Jim Shannon

I thank the hon. Gentleman for giving me that chance to gain some composure. Picture Lance Corporal David John Thompson, serving proudly with the 13th Battalion, Royal Irish Rifles—the County Down volunteers. As the clock ticks towards half-past 7 in the morning and the deafening roar of the British artillery barrage shakes the very earth beneath their feet, young David’s mind is not in France; his heart is back home in County Down. He can almost smell the air drifting off Strangford lough—there is nothing quite like a breath of air from Strangford lough. He remembers the quiet mornings walking past Scrabo tower, which stands sentinel over the town; the warmth of his mother’s kitchen; and the familiar faces in Conway Square in Newtownards. He longs for the peace of home, for his Sunday morning service at First Ards Presbyterian church, and for the simple, honest life he left behind when he answered his King’s call. Yet, as he looks down the trenches at the pale, mud-streaked faces of the young men under his command—fellas he grew up with in Newtownards, Comber and Donaghadee —fear gives way to duty. He knows that the whistle is about to blow. He knows that climbing over the parapet means walking into a storm of German machine gun fire. He has no desire to die in a foreign land, yet he is entirely prepared to do so. Why? Because Lance Corporal David John Thompson understands that the freedom of his family back in Newtownards, the preservation of the British way of life and the defeat of tyranny are worth a great price. He is willing, along with others, to pay that price for that which he honours more than his own life. So, when that shrill whistle blows, 19-year-old Lance Corporal Thompson does not hesitate. With his Lee-Enfield rifle gripped tight, standing beside his brothers in arms with Orange sashes beneath many of their tunics, he climbs into no man’s land, shouting over the din to rally his boys forward. He leads them across the cratered earth towards the Schwaben redoubt, not out of hatred for the men in front of him but out of an unshakeable love for the home and the country he has left behind. He pays the ultimate price at 19 years of age. That is the calibre of the men of Ulster: young men who loved their homes fiercely, yet loved their duty and their freedom even more. Captain Wilfrid Spender said: “I am not an Ulsterman, but yesterday, the 1st July, as I followed their amazing attack, I felt that I would rather be an Ulsterman than anything else in the world. My pen cannot describe adequately the hundreds of heroic acts I witnessed. The Ulster Volunteer Force, from which the Division was made, has won a name that equals any in history. Their devotion deserves the gratitude of the British empire.” What lovely words from a man who witnessed that attack of the 36th (Ulster) Division. The blood of those who fell at the Somme runs through the very veins of the people I represent. We carry their legacy with pride and their resolve in our hearts. Come what may, the people of Ulster will continue to stand unbowed and unbroken for freedom, for the rule of law, for our Christian faith and for God, and for this precious United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. For us, “We will remember them,” is not just a phrase; it is always our promise.