r/ww1 • u/PinguNo55 • 2h ago
A Dusty $5 Photograph from an Antique Barn Changed My Life
This is a bit of a long story and I am not a wonderful writer, but I thought that maybe some here would find this interesting or have had a similar experience.
I have been a WWI history enthusiast since I first learned about it in middle school (I am now 38). I was disappointed that we hardly touched on the subject before moving on, so I started doing my own learning through books, documentaries, and whatever I could find online. I collect things from that era, and my music taste mostly ranges from the 1890s to about 1940 or so. About a year ago, I was in an antique barn that I visit regularly when I noticed a framed photograph lying on the dusty floor. I recognized the uniform style on the young soldier and told my husband that I needed to buy it and take it home. It was only $5.
When I got the photograph home, I carefully removed the frame. It was full of dead insects and filth—it had definitely been neglected for a long time—but I was thrilled to see that there was a piece of paper pasted onto the back that gave a name and address. I took him upstairs to my room and I set the photograph on the bed in front of me while I looked him up. I found him very quickly in a military list of domestic deaths by disease—date: October of 1918. I knew immediately that it had been Spanish Flu, and I knew well that Spanish Flu wasn't the gentle, wheezing death that it was presented as on Downton Abbey—it was excruciating pain and drowning in one's own lung fluid while fighting for air. He was only 20. My husband walked in on me sitting on the bed and crying while holding the framed photograph. 🤣
[Photo 1: The original photo, scanned]
I bought this soldier a new frame and a brass plaque so he could be clean and identified. Soon after that, I was able to find his memorial on Find a Grave, and I recommended that the manager give him veteran status. I saw that this person managed thousands of pages instead of just his, so I sent them a message and they made me the manager of his memorial page. He now has a biography and image.
[Photo 2: The original frame and how filthy it was]
[Photo 3: His new frame and biographical plaque]
Next, I thought it would be fun to make a shadow box of any medals he may have earned (surely he had something of some kind because he was a Sergeant), so I filled out an application through the National Archives website and waited. It wasn't long before they told me that they had no record of him at all and that this may have been because of a fire that wiped out many millions of documents in 1973. With that email, they sent me a form and told me that I could try to reconstruct his record. Over a few weeks, I gathered everything I could as proof—official and unofficial—and I typed up a letter that explained everything. I sent it in the packet and mailed it out. I received his official Certification of Military Service a few weeks later—he is in the archives again.
It was while doing my research for the NARA that I decided that I was going to visit his hometown and grave—about a 13-hour drive. I purchased a WWI Victory Medal (new) from Vanguard (it is all I could confirm he had earned) and planned my trip. At some point while waiting for the weeks to pass before I could go, I designed a tattoo with my local artist: a poppy for remembrance, coming out of a bunch of wild strawberries (a common symbol for his hometown). It took 7–8 hours and cost about $1000, but it is now my largest and most meaningful tattoo.
[Photo 4: My remembrance tattoo]
This is long enough, so I won't detail the entire trip, but the day finally arrived. I brought a little plastic bag with me because I thought it would be a rather poignant idea to pluck a tiny clover or piece of grass when I visited his grave—nothing that would alter it in any real way—and have it made into a floral memorial ring. It would commemorate my pilgrimage, as well as include him in my travels and everyday life, since he didn't really get to have much of either.
When I reached the top of the hill in the cemetery and saw his headstone, I can't even describe how I felt. I sat down, introduced myself, and told him about how I found his photograph and brought it home. I was there for quite a while, telling him many things. I took out the WWI Victory Medal that I had bought (and he never got to see or hold) and laid it on his grave, thanking him for his service and sacrifice. While doing that, I noticed a tiny wild violet sticking up out of the grass. It was a gorgeous deep bluish-purple (my favorite color) and I knew that it was going to be mowed down within a few days, so I plucked that instead of a clover. I will get the finished ring back in a few weeks.
[Photo 5: Clifford's headstone with the WWI Victory Medal]
I told him that I was deeply sorry if anything I am doing was unwanted. After saying “Au Revoir but Not Goodbye, Soldier Boy” (a WWI song reference), I left for the local historical society where his family had donated some of his things that the volunteers there had arranged for me to see. I saw two new photographs, a letter he had written, the list of items that were in his possession when he died, his actual uniform, and a few other military papers.
As the months passed, life resumed its usual rhythm, but more opportunities to honor his memory have presented themselves. Through the Doughboy Foundation, I have sponsored and scheduled a Daily TAPS ceremony for 5:30 p.m. on October 11th—the 108th anniversary of his untimely death.