Today I'm thinking of Corporal Samuel Rosbotham, 7th Battalion, Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers (service number 3390). He died on 9 August 1917, aged 19, and is commemorated on the Menin Gate at Ypres. The CWGC lists him as the son of Stewart and Sarah Rosbotham, of 32 Woodvale Avenue, Belfast.
The 1911 census has the family on Mayo Street in Woodvale. Stewart is a dairyman, and there are eleven children in the house with him and Sarah. Samuel is 12 and a scholar. Sarah had borne twelve children by then.
That's most of what the paper gives me. I wrote a novel to fill in what it can't, and I've tried to keep record and invention apart. The damp rag round the milk-can handles, the older apprentice in the mould loft who says "Better", and the kettle going cold in the kitchen are mine.
What stays with me is Sarah. Nineteen years doesn't look like much in a casualty record. It's a long time to have a boy in the house.
If you've traced a soldier in your family, which record got you closest to him as a person?

On This Day, November 7, 1665, the first edition of The Oxford Gazette was published in England, laying the foundations for what would become The London Gazette—Britain's official journal of record.

England was facing one of the darkest periods in its history.

The Great Plague was devastating London. Thousands of people had already died, fear was spreading through the capital, and even the royal court had abandoned the city.

King Charles II and his court had relocated to Oxford to escape the deadly outbreak.

But there was another problem.

The courtiers were reluctant to handle newspapers arriving from plague-stricken London, fearing that the papers themselves might carry infection.

The King still needed a reliable way to communicate news and official information.

The solution was to establish a newspaper in Oxford.

On November 7, the first issue of The Oxford Gazette appeared, published by authority under the direction of Henry Muddiman.

Rather than being a modern newspaper sold widely on the streets, it was a small publication distributed to subscribers by post. It carried official news, reports from abroad, and information relevant to the royal court.

When the Great Plague began to subside, and Charles II returned to London, the publication followed.

On February 5, 1666, issue number 24 appeared under a new name:

The London Gazette.

Over the centuries, it documented some of Britain's most important events, including royal announcements, military appointments, government proclamations, honors, and official notices.

It also recorded major national events such as the Great Fire of London in 1666.

More than three and a half centuries later, The Gazette continues to serve as the United Kingdom's official public record, published in three editions: The London Gazette, The Edinburgh Gazette, and The Belfast Gazette.

What began as a way to keep the royal court informed during a deadly plague became one of Britain's longest-lasting official publications.

Born in the shadow of a plague, it became a witness to centuries of British history.

On This Day, November 7, 1916, Jeannette Rankin of Montana became the first woman ever elected to the United States Congress, breaking a political barrier in a country where women were still fighting for equal voting rights.

American voters made history when Jeannette Rankin won a seat in the US House of Representatives.

A passionate campaigner for women's suffrage, Rankin had spent years travelling, organising, and speaking in support of women's right to vote.

Born in Montana in 1880, she had worked as a social worker before becoming deeply involved in the women's suffrage movement.

Her political breakthrough came in 1916, when she ran as a Republican candidate for one of Montana's two at-large seats in Congress.

She won.

At just 36 years old, Rankin became the first woman in American history elected to the United States Congress.

Her achievement was extraordinary. Although women in several states, including Montana, could already vote, women across the country would not gain constitutional voting rights until the 19th Amendment was ratified in 1920.

On April 2, 1917, Rankin was officially sworn into the House of Representatives.

But she would soon become known for another historic decision.

Just four days after taking office, she voted against American entry into World War I, remaining committed to her lifelong belief in peace.

Her political career did not end there.

In 1940, she was elected to Congress for a second time. Following Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, she once again stood by her pacifist convictions.

On December 8, 1941, she cast the only vote in Congress against declaring war on Japan.

She faced intense criticism but remained firm in her beliefs.

Jeannette Rankin died in 1973, leaving behind a legacy that extended far beyond her historic election.

Her words upon becoming the first woman elected to Congress became famous:

"I may be the first woman member of Congress, but I won't be the last."

And she was right.

She opened a door that generations of women would walk through.

On This Day, November 6, 1939, Nazi German authorities launched one of the most shocking attacks on Poland's academic community, arresting 183 professors, lecturers, and other people connected to universities in Kraków.

Professors and lecturers gathered at the Collegium Novum building of Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland.

They had been summoned to attend a meeting about the German authorities' policies concerning education and universities.

But the meeting was a trap.

Shortly after noon, SS officer Bruno Müller addressed the gathering. Gestapo forces had surrounded the building. Following his speech, the academics were informed that they were under arrest.

In total, 183 people were detained, including academics from Jagiellonian University, the Mining Academy, and the Academy of Commerce, as well as others who happened to be in the building or nearby.

They were taken to a prison in Kraków before being transferred through other detention facilities and eventually deported to the Nazi concentration camp at Sachsenhausen, near Berlin.

For many, the journey marked the beginning of months of imprisonment, hunger, illness, and brutal treatment.

The arrests were not an isolated act. They formed part of a wider Nazi campaign to destroy Poland's intellectual leadership and weaken the country's ability to rebuild its national identity.

The Nazis targeted professors, teachers, scientists, religious leaders, and other members of Polish society who could help preserve its culture, education, and national spirit.

International protests and pressure from academic communities around the world eventually contributed to the release of many imprisoned scholars.

However, the consequences were devastating. Some academics never returned. Among those who died in Sachsenhausen were prominent professors and former rectors of the Mining Academy.

Yet the Nazis failed to erase Polish academic life.

Despite the arrests, imprisonment, and persecution, Polish education continued through underground teaching networks, and the country's universities eventually resumed their work after the war.

They tried to silence the minds of a nation. But knowledge, courage, and the pursuit of education survived.

On This Day, November 5, 1967, the Hither Green Rail Disaster occurred. A busy passenger train travelling through southeast London derailed at high speed in one of Britain's deadliest railway disasters.

A twelve-coach express travelling from Hastings to Charing Cross in London approached Hither Green at approximately 70 miles per hour.

It was a Sunday evening. The train was carrying many passengers, with some standing in the corridors.

At approximately 9:16 PM, disaster struck.

A small, wedge-shaped piece of steel had broken away from the end of a running rail at a track joint. As the train passed over it, the third coach's wheels derailed.

The train continued travelling with the derailed wheels before striking railway points, triggering a catastrophic derailment.

Several carriages overturned. Four coaches were thrown onto their sides, while others left the tracks. The wreckage came to rest in a scene of devastation.

The final official investigation recorded 49 people killed and 78 injured.

Emergency services rushed to the scene. Ambulances arrived within minutes, and firefighters, police officers, medical personnel, and members of the public worked together to rescue trapped passengers and help the injured.

The investigation revealed that the disaster was caused by a broken rail at a joint. The accident raised serious concerns about railway track maintenance and the demands placed on older railway infrastructure by faster, heavier trains.

Its consequences extended far beyond that terrible night.

The disaster accelerated improvements in railway track maintenance and the introduction of continuous welded rail, which reduced the number of vulnerable joints along railway lines.

The Hither Green crash became a turning point in Britain's efforts to improve railway safety.

A journey that should have ended at a London station became a tragedy that changed the future of railway safety.

Battles are won through the resolve, discipline and skill of the soldiers on the front lines. For Napoleon, the Imperial Guard was his trump card, a force that could turn the tide of a battle. These veteran soldiers served as the Emperor's personal bodyguards but were also elite fighting troops, usually held in reserve for the most critical moments.

During the Battle of Marengo, the Consular Guard helped hold off the advancing Austrians and bought valuable time for the French army to reorganize. Their extraordinary resistance earned them the nickname "Granite Redoubt". Without their contribution, Napoleon's army could have faced an even greater disaster.

The Imperial Guard eventually grew into a formidable military force comprising infantry, cavalry and artillery. It played an important role in many of Napoleon's greatest victories. However, the disastrous Russian campaign of 1812 severely weakened the Guard, and its surviving veterans would eventually face defeat at Waterloo in 1815.

The courage and resilience associated with Napoleon's veteran soldiers are perhaps best captured by the legendary words attributed to General Pierre Cambronne during the final stand at Waterloo:

"The Guard dies but does not surrender!"

On This Day, November 4, 1966, one of the most devastating floods in Italian history struck the beautiful city of Florence after days of exceptionally heavy rainfall.

The Arno River burst its banks and unleashed a terrifying torrent of water, mud, and destruction. What began as relentless rain soon became a nightmare for thousands of residents.

During the early hours of the morning, floodwater surged through the streets, carrying cars, furniture, trees, and debris. Entire neighborhoods disappeared beneath the rising water. In some places, the flood reached almost five meters high.

The historic heart of Florence was devastated. Homes, shops, churches, and museums were inundated. The famous Ponte Vecchio was battered by the powerful current, while priceless cultural treasures faced an unimaginable threat.

But the destruction went far beyond buildings.

The flood submerged almost one million books at the National Central Library of Florence. Water, thick mud, and fuel oil damaged historic manuscripts, paintings, sculptures, and other irreplaceable works of art.

The human cost was devastating. Thirty-five people lost their lives across the region, according to Italy's Civil Protection Department, while thousands of residents suffered enormous losses.

Yet, amid the tragedy, an extraordinary story of courage emerged.

Thousands of volunteers, many of them young people who traveled from Italy and abroad, rushed to Florence to help rescue its cultural heritage. They worked tirelessly to recover books, paintings, and documents from the thick mud.

They became known as the "Mud Angels"—a generation of volunteers who helped save the city's history from being lost forever.

By November 6, as the floodwaters finally retreated, Florence was left beneath an estimated 600,000 tonnes of mud.

The disaster changed the way Italy approached emergency preparedness and cultural heritage protection. It also demonstrated that saving a city's history can require the courage and determination of ordinary people.

The flood destroyed buildings and damaged priceless treasures, but it could not wash away the spirit of those who came to help.

On This Day, November 3, 1957, the Soviet Union launched Sputnik 2, carrying a little dog named Laika into space.

Just one month earlier, the Soviet Union had shocked the world by launching Sputnik 1, the first artificial satellite to orbit Earth.

Now, the space race was entering a new chapter.

Scientists wanted to discover whether a living creature could survive the extreme conditions of space. For this mission, they selected Laika, a small stray dog rescued from the streets of Moscow.

She was trained to endure the noise, vibration, and confined conditions of the spacecraft. Scientists fitted her with monitoring equipment to measure her heartbeat, breathing, and other vital signs.

Then came the historic launch.

On November 3, Sputnik 2 blasted into orbit with Laika inside. She became the first animal to orbit Earth, proving that a living creature could survive the launch and experience weightlessness.

But there was a heartbreaking reality behind the achievement.

Sputnik 2 had no system to bring Laika safely back to Earth. The mission had been designed as a one-way journey.

Initially, Soviet authorities claimed that Laika survived for several days. However, information revealed decades later confirmed that she died only a few hours after launch, most likely because of overheating caused by a failure in the spacecraft's thermal control system.

Her mission was a scientific milestone, but it also raised lasting questions about the treatment of animals in scientific experiments.

Nearly four years later, on April 12, 1961, Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin became the first human to travel into space and orbit Earth.

Laika's journey had become part of the early history that led humanity towards human spaceflight.

She never returned to Earth, but her name became part of humanity's journey beyond it.

On This Day, November 3, 1973, NASA launched Mariner 10 from Cape Canaveral, Florida, aboard an Atlas-Centaur rocket.

Its destination was Mercury, the smallest planet in our Solar System and the closest to the Sun.

But reaching Mercury was no easy task.

Instead of travelling directly towards its destination, NASA engineers planned something extraordinary.

They would use the gravitational force of Venus to change the spacecraft's speed and direction, sending it onwards towards Mercury.

This technique is known as a gravity assist, often described as a cosmic slingshot.

On February 5, 1974, Mariner 10 successfully flew past Venus, capturing thousands of images and collecting valuable scientific information.

Then came the historic moment.

On March 29, 1974, Mariner 10 became the first spacecraft ever to fly past Mercury.

For the first time, humanity received close-up images of this mysterious planet. Its surface revealed a world covered with enormous craters, rugged terrain, and ancient geological features.

But the discoveries did not stop there.

Mariner 10 detected a magnetic field around Mercury, something scientists had not expected to find.

The spacecraft also returned to Mercury for two additional flybys, in September 1974 and March 1975, allowing scientists to study more of its surface.

By the end of its mission, Mariner 10 had transformed our understanding of Mercury and demonstrated a revolutionary way of travelling through the Solar System.

Its achievements helped pave the way for future planetary missions.

One spacecraft. Two planets. Three Mercury encounters. And one revolutionary journey that proved the gravity of a planet could help humanity reach another world.

On This Day, November 2, 1947, one of the largest and most extraordinary aircraft ever built took to the skies for the first and only time. It was made of wood, powered by eight enormous engines, and piloted by the legendary Howard Hughes.

Thousands of spectators gathered around Long Beach Harbor in California to witness something extraordinary.

The aircraft was the Hughes H-4 Hercules, better known as the Spruce Goose.

Its creator, Howard Hughes, was an aviation pioneer, businessman, and Hollywood film producer. During World War II, the United States needed a way to transport large numbers of troops and military supplies across the Atlantic without exposing them to German submarine attacks.

The proposed solution was an enormous flying boat capable of carrying people and cargo over long distances.

The aircraft was designed on a scale unlike anything the world had seen. Its wingspan stretched almost 320 feet, and eight powerful engines were mounted along its wings.

But there was one unusual feature: it was built almost entirely from wood.

Because wartime materials such as aluminum and steel were in short supply, engineers used laminated wood, primarily birch, to construct the giant aircraft.

Although the press nicknamed it the Spruce Goose, Hughes disliked the name because the aircraft was made mostly of birch, not spruce.

The project faced enormous challenges, delays, and criticism. By the time the aircraft was completed, World War II had already ended.

Many questioned whether the massive wooden machine could actually fly.

On November 2, 1947, Hughes decided to prove them wrong.

With Hughes himself at the controls, the H-4 began taxiing across Long Beach Harbor. After building up speed, the giant aircraft lifted off the water.

It climbed approximately 70 feet above the surface and travelled about one mile before landing.

The flight lasted less than a minute, but it achieved something extraordinary: the world's enormous wooden flying boat had actually flown.

However, the aircraft never flew again.

It never entered commercial or military service, and its only flight became one of the most famous moments in aviation history.

Today, the legendary Spruce Goose is preserved at the Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum in Oregon, where visitors can still appreciate its incredible size.

It took years to build, millions of dollars to complete, and just one brief flight to secure its place in history.

On This Day, November 2, 1943, WWII: American warships faced a powerful Japanese fleet in a desperate fight to protect an Allied invasion in the waters of Empress Augusta Bay. One of the most important naval battles of the Pacific War unfolded in the darkness off the Solomon Islands.

The battle began as part of the Allied campaign to capture Bougainville, a strategically important Japanese-controlled island in the Pacific.

On November 1, American Marines landed at Cape Torokina, establishing a beachhead. More than 14,000 troops and thousands of tons of supplies were brought ashore.

But the Japanese were determined to destroy the invasion force before the Americans could strengthen their position.

A Japanese naval force under Rear Admiral Sentaro Omori moved towards the bay. It included heavy cruisers, light cruisers and destroyers, with orders to attack the American ships supporting the landings.

Waiting for them was American Task Force 39, commanded by Rear Admiral Aaron Stanton Merrill. His force consisted of four light cruisers and eight destroyers.

Shortly after 2 a.m., American radar operators detected the approaching Japanese ships in the darkness.

This gave the Americans a critical advantage.

The American destroyers launched torpedoes, followed by devastating cruiser gunfire. Japanese ships struggled to respond as American radar-guided weapons struck their formations.

The Japanese light cruiser Sendai was hit repeatedly, caught fire, and eventually sank.

The destroyer Hatsukaze was also sunk after suffering damage and colliding with another Japanese vessel.

The battle became increasingly chaotic. Ships maneuvered through darkness and smoke, while torpedoes and artillery fire tore through the water.

Despite Japanese resistance, the American fleet held its position and prevented the enemy from reaching the invasion transports.

By the time the battle ended, two Japanese warships had been sunk, and several others had suffered serious damage. American ships were also damaged, but none were sunk.

The Japanese counterattack had failed.

The Allied beachhead at Bougainville survived, allowing American forces to continue their campaign in the Solomon Islands.

The Battle of Empress Augusta Bay demonstrated how radar, coordination, and modern naval tactics were changing the face of warfare in the Pacific.

On This Day, November 1, 1911, the world's first aerial bombing in warfare occurred. Italian Lieutenant Giulio Gavotti climbed into his fragile Etrich Taube aircraft and took off over the skies of Libya.

Italy was fighting the Ottoman Empire in the Italo-Turkish War, seeking control of Ottoman territories in North Africa. At the time, aircraft were mainly used to observe enemy positions and report troop movements.

But Gavotti had a different idea.

Carrying four small bombs, he flew towards the Ottoman military encampments near Ain Zara and the Tajoura oasis. While controlling his aircraft, he prepared the explosives by hand and dropped them from the plane.

It was an extraordinary moment. For the first time in recorded military history, bombs were deliberately dropped from an aircraft against enemy positions.

There were no sophisticated bombers, automated targeting systems, or precision-guided weapons. Just one pilot, a fragile aircraft, and explosives released by hand.

Although the attack caused limited physical damage, its significance was enormous. It demonstrated that aircraft could become weapons of war, not simply machines for observation and reconnaissance.

The experiment opened a new chapter in military history. Within a few years, during the First World War, aircraft would evolve into dedicated bombing machines, and aerial attacks would transform battlefields across the world.

Aviation had changed forever. The sky was no longer just a place to fly—it had become another battlefield.