As we commemorate the start of the Great War, and the loss of a generation, most will no longer have people who can give them first hand accounts of what it was like to be back home as children, and hear the news from the front.
But apart from the obvious participants, we should also I think be grateful to those who took the pictures, both moving and still.
Without their efforts, our understanding would be diminished surely of such a catastrophic event and time in our history.
And do not forget, they did not have the latest scientific precision tools that we pretty much have today. Or the ability to shoot as many shots as they really wanted, and at any stage to start again.
Nor work with feedback as you go to see what you are capturing. And so it goes on.
No, these were real photographers, working in difficult conditions few of us can truly understand today.
And while at the onset of the hostilities, apparently many people were in patriotic fervour, as can be seen in the images. But as time wore on, what would you have felt like, having to photography injured, demoralised, and exhausted people? The human and animal carnage and destruction in general?
Thankfully they did, and it shows the importance to us I think to record our time, for posterity and future generations. And of course, to do what we can to protect and archive those efforts.
Like many, I had relations who fought in this conflict.
The images I see of those times, help to make me realise, what it was they endured, and ultimately went through on our behalf.
For all the diaries, the poetry and the other art forms, photography helped make sure we can respect those times and those who lived through them.