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My dear mother died of grief shortly after my father was killed at the start of the First World War. It was then left to my father's sister to raise me along with her two daughters. Her husband was also away commanding a regiment of fusiliers somewhere in northern France and, my aunt, far from being enthusiastic about having a thirteen year old boy joining the household, resigned herself to yet further inconvenience of that damnable war and reluctantly allowed me shelter and succour within the bosom of her household provided that my own governess accompanied me and that we...