My grandfather, Douglas Arthur Crow, a Brighton surgeon and proselytising pacifist, died in 1945. But it was the First World War, not the Second, that ultimately caused his death.

His service in the 31st Field Ambulance Unit in Salonika from 1916-1917 had left him so horrified by the waste of war that he came back determined to fight for peace with the weapons he wielded best: words. In the end, the black moods of depression that had dogged him since he was a young medic caught up with him – but his words remain. This blog aims to make sure they are not forgotten.

In speeches, pamphlets, letters to The Times – even cartoons – he fired volleys of invective against those he saw as warmongers. Often very funny, always readable, these still have a powerful message for us today.

IMG Brontosaurus


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