| Birth |
1894, Froyle, Hants |
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| Parents |
Son of Alfred & Martha Binfield |
| Residence |
Workhouse Cottages, Lower Froyle |
| Occupation |
General Labourer (1911 Census) |
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| Enlisted |
Aldershot, Hants |
| Regiment |
48th Siege Battery, Royal Garrison Artillery |
| Regimental No: |
39472 |
| Rank |
Gunner |
| Service Record |
Formerly 9204, Dorset Regiment |
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| Death |
24th January, 1915, died aged 21 |
| Theatre of War |
France & Flanders |
| Commemoration |
Wimereux Communal Cemetery - Plot I.C 24, Pas de Calais |
| Medals |
Victory Medal, British War Medal |
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Andrew David Binfield was born in Lower Froyle in 1894. He was the son of Alfred & Martha (née Bunce) Binfield and the family lived in one of the Workhouse Cottages in Lower Froyle.
In the 1911 Census he was described as a General labourer.
When war broke out all six of the Binfield’s sons decided that they wanted to serve their King and country. They even got a special mention in the local paper of the time.
He enlisted in Aldershot in 1914 and served with the Dorset Regiment, no.9204. At the time of his death he was with the 48th Siege Battery, Royal Garrison Regiment, as 39472 Gunner Andrew Binfield.
Andrew died of his wounds in hospital in Boulogne, France on 24th January 1915, aged 21 years.
Gunner Andrew Binfield is buried in the Wimereux Communal Cemetery - Plot I.C.24, Pas de Calais. |
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| The following, printed in a local newspaper, was sent to us by Julie Jones, a descendant |
The following verses were written by the late Gunner A.D. Binfield, R.G.A.,who recently died of wounds in hospital in Boulogne. He has six brothers still serving of whom two have been wounded. Their parents reside at Froyle;
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We have been thy sons, dear father.
For more than twenty years,
But we would die now rather
Than see thy face in tears
Do not weep, we cannot bear it,
For we must go away,
There is war and we must share it,
It comes in our young day.
Hark! Hark! the danger is on us.
Screams of the dying tell
That peace is further from us,
Dear father, fare thee well.
Try to forget, dear mother,
That we were ever thine,
And let your love some other
Responsive heart entwine.
Think not at bedtime of us.
Nor on thy pillow weep,
Nor fancy that we’re lonely
And sinking in the deep;
Think not that we are lying
In some dark prison cell,
Nor on the cold ground dying.
Dear mother, fare thee well,
Dear sister, keep up courage,
There is peace and joy to come,
And peace again shall flourish.
When the battle has been won;
When in the trenches fighting
Our thoughts shall turn to thee,
And fancy you are weeping.
And mother, too, for me,
Try to ease her sorrow,
And tell her we are well,
And think of every morrow,
Dear sister, fare thee well.
Dear brother, you are younger
And smaller far than I,
But time will make you stronger
And fit to fight and die.
So ¡f we never should come back,
And war continues-a-well,
Take up my gun and accoutrements,
And fight for those who fell.
Let not the tyrants injure
The land we love so well.
Although we welcome strangers
Dear brother, fare thee well.
We see the clouds of danger
Round Britain’s well-loved coast,
But rather than the stranger
Should humble our proud boast,
Our little all we’ll give thee.
Our hands and hearts we’ll give,
For ‘tis Joyful thus to serve thee,
In Britain’s freedom strive.
So wave the standard freely,
And shout the victory well,
To conquer now we leave thee.
Kind friends, now fare thee well.
GUNNER A. D. BINFIELD
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