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The Scouts who gave their lives

By Black Country Bugle  |  Posted: September 01, 2014

By Ian Henery

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(In memory of John Robert Henery, 1st Syerston Air Scouts, 10th Walsall Cub Scouts)

Promised to do their best, now they are gone

But we will remember them forever;

On us, their service and courage shone

So tell me – should we forget them? Never!

They are an example, we owe a debt,

The Scouts who gave their lives, lest we forget.

They helped other people, did their duty,

Promise kept, they live in our hearts and thoughts,

Service given to their communities.

We remember their names and battles fought,

Role models who gave their all with no regret,

The Scouts who gave their lives, lest we forget.

Scouting represents peace across the world, It's a global youth organisation;

Core values raised where our flag is unfurled,

Baden Powell, founder and inspiration,

Fellowship on which the sun never sets:

The Scouts who gave their lives, lest we forget.

We all look for heroes but they are here:

They are in Scouting and support our youth;

Uniforms, but we are all volunteers,

The purple membership badge is our truth.

Times change but we will remember them yet,

The Scouts who gave their lives, lest we forget.

So the years roll on, fashion comes and goes,

Hopes get jaded, there's sadness and strife; Like the Northern Star, one beacon we know, A compass through the rocky storms of life:

In remembrance when alone and upset,

The Scouts who gave their lives, lest we forget.

My father, John Robert Henery was born into a coal mining community in Horden, County Durham. My Grandpa, George Ernest Henery, when not down the pit at Easington Colliery, was in the local scout hut as a Scout leader. He raised his two sons, John and George, as Scouts. My Grandpa was moved to the Nottingham coal mines when the coal started to run out at Easington and he continued his Scouting at Calverton. Uncle George and my father both became Scout leaders in Nottingham. My Grandpa died of injuries sustained in the coal industry after a lifetime of service to Scouting. My Uncle George, who was named after my Grandpa, died of cancer and was also a big advocate of Scouting. As for my father, he had only three topics of conversation: his experience of the 1957 World Jamboree in Sutton Park, my mother – he married her in the same year – and the 1957 World Jamboree in Sutton Park. When he died I placed his wood badge and his Gilwell Woggle in his left hand and a cross my children made him in his right hand.

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