THOUSANDS of eager young men enlisted as a wave of patriotic fervour swept Durham in the early years of the First World War.

Among them was recently-married miner Michael Joseph Lowery, who volunteered early in 1915 to do his bit for King and Country.

Born in Sligo, Ireland, in 1893, Mick Lowery’s family worked at mines around the Durham coalfield, before finally moving to the newly-built village of Bowburn where he worked in the pit.

He met and married local girl Eliza McKeown and they moved in with her family in Clarence Street, but their married life was to be short-lived.

Later that year, Michael Lowery together with brother-in-law James McKeown and next-door neighbour Jackie Hunter joined the Northumberland Fusiliers “Tyneside Irish” battalion and left the village for basic training.

Eliza was expecting their first child when Michael left for France. On May 8, 1916, Michael wrote home to his sister Sarah: “You think I will get a surprise when I come home and see that little son of ours. Eliza tells me he is the picture of health but it’s to be hoped it won’t be long now before I get home to see him and you all. It will be a big day when we all get home for good. I wish the time was here now and I’ll bet you are all wishing the same. But we will wait till it is God’s will to end this war.”

He added: “I wish I could get leave to see him, but I don’t think we will be long now before we are in the trenches. We are just a short distance behind the firing line and you can hear the guns going off and I can tell you that it isn’t very pleasant to hear them.”

Michael Lowery would never meet his son. On July 1, 1916, he found himself – along with James McKeown and Jackie Hunter – in formation along the Albert to Bapaume road on the battlefield of the Somme.

All three were in reserve with a panoramic view over the battlefield when the ranks of the Grimsby Chums went over the top and were massacred before their eyes. Then it was the turn of Michael, James and Jackie.

Their bodies were never found and there is no account of their final moments – they were just three of the 19,240 British soldiers killed on that one day.