inspired by the landscape around his home in snowdonia, he was a reluctant soldier, conscripted into, a pickaxe and the shears, and never in his life had a rifle in his hand. you might as well say he was going to the front line naked. he was killed within hours. a few weeks later, a poem he had sent from the front line won the highest honour in wales, the chair of the national eisteddfod. his absence at the prize—giving ceremony came to symbolise a lost generation felt by many farming communities. all the cream of the young men had been killed. for what, i don't know. to me it doesn't make sense whatsoever. # guide me, 0 thou greatjehovah #. hedd wyn was honoured today in a special service. among those taking part, sian rees, who has her own story to tell. her grandfather, bert hinder, was 19 when hejoined up. he survived the battle and made his home in the seaside town of rhyl. sian cherishes her memories of him. he was jolly, he was small, he had terrible jokes and he always used to give me a sixpence on a saturday morning. like so many, bert never spoke about the horrors he saw. t