THREE soldiers, a major and two privates from the Belgian Army, who were desperately wounded in the fight for the road to Calais and reached Southampton by hospital ship only to succumb to their injuries, found a final resting place far from the fighting line in Southampton Cemetery.

One was Major Poncher, from a unit not named, the second Private Lambrecq, and of the third the breastplate on the coffin simply read “A Belgian Soldier. Name Unknown. Died October 24th. RIP.”

The poor Belgian servicemen, who gave their lives for their country and for the great cause for which the allies were fighting, were mourned in a touching service held in the town 100 years ago this month.

Accompanied by a military escort and a firing party, the latter with arms reversed, the cortege proceeded from the town quay to the cemetery, with the many spectators along the route taking off their hats as the unusual procession passed.

Among those at the graveside were Mr T Fladgate, the Belgian Consul at Southampton; the town sheriff Councillor G. Etheridge, various ecclesiastical figures from the district and numerous civic dignitaries, including those involved with the Belgian Refugees Committee, which had come to prominence with the aid it had been offering the war-weary Belgian refugees and soldiers who had landed at Southampton earlier in the week.

A number of Belgian refugees from their temporary home at Highfield also figured prominently in the circle of those who had come to pay a last tribute to the memory of the brave men.

The last rites, according to the solemn liturgy of the Roman Catholic Church, were conducted |by Father Coghlan and was assisted by Father Conolly.

The khaki-clad escort, which had stood silent, bare-headed and statuesque around the grave, stiffened to attention, the bugle sounded the Last Post, and the firing party fixed bayonets and presented arms.

As is customary in active warfare, no volley was fired.

The soldiers marched away, the onlookers slowly dispersed, and the three unknown heroes, who deeds remain unknown and unchronicled, were left to sleep in another land with the autumn leaves of England falling softly around.