I love sharing. I was once "corrected" when I used the term "grand-aunt" to "oh, you mean your great aunt". Uh, no, I didn't. Look at the generations. Brother or sister of grandparent equals grand-aunt or grand-uncle. Great is another generation up! 
I was doing some profiles the other day and the one brother of my mother's uncle had written letters to his sweetheart, They were included in his military records because she had to have sent them in to help prove her right to be beneficiary to his Will because the military had lost it (the Will) somehow. He had had the forethought to send her a copy of his Will in one letter. That he mentioned it and his intentions in two letters is how I got to read them .. and to weep over what was never to be. I don't know for sure that the little one mentioned was *his* daughter, but it sure felt that way, so there were two more lives grieving his loss. (He asked her to not forget to go and see his dear old mother in Scotland, Told her his parents would be happy to see her. Told her not to worry about him as he was keeping cheerful.)
Same with his brother, the one who survived. He knew his wife was pregnant and that he might never know if he had a son or a second daughter, but he signed up and went anyway.
I was told that my grandfather and his next oldest brother signed up BECAUSE their eldest brother (surviving childhood) had been on Gallipoli. They, by then, knew what was happening "over there", but went anyway.
My grandmother also signed up and served in France. My mother once "pooh-poohed" Grandma's service because, as (my darling) Mother said "she was just a telephonist". But, as with the supply lines, communications were under constant threat; and she wasn't sitting safe and sound back in England. She'd already lost her brother, but she went anyway.
And what about all the nurses? Do we remember them? They served, as did the cooks, the horse handlers, the (more modern) mechanics, the ones who kept aircraft repaired for the pilots, the Land Army Girls who may not have been under fire, but kept things going, and also those in the factories making the uniforms and the munitions for those doing the fighting. They ALL served. We should remember them, too.
Someone mentioned war widows. They and the mothers and the fathers and sister and brothers should also be remembered. They all did their part. <3
Both my parents served during WWII. I think my mother was in more danger "back home" than my father was over in England, because she was in Townsville when it was bombed by the Japanese. She knew girls who'd been in Indonesia and saw the terrors they suffered afterwards. (Today we'd call that PTSD.) She never got used to seeing "the boys" go off, never knowing which would return. She said goodbye to the love of her life on one of those days. It changes you. (She was later stationed in Brisbane, working in intelligence, in the same building where Douglas MacArthur had his headquarters.)
I shall stop now. This subject just happened to hit one of my "buttons" and I could talk on and on, boring everyone else around.
