George Coppard was born in Brighton on 26th January, 1898. After attending Fairlight Place School he left at thirteen to work at a taxidermists.

Like many young men, Coppard volunteered to join the British Army in August, 1914. Although only sixteen, he was accepted after claimed he was three years older. He became a member of the Royal West Surrey Regiment and sent to Stoughton Barracks in Guildford for training.

Private Coppard was sent to France in June, 1915 as a member of a Vickers machine-gun unit. In September of that year he took part is the Artois-Loos offensive where the British Army suffered 50,000 casualties. The following he was involved in the Battle of the Somme.

On 17th October, 1916, Coppard was accidentally shot in the foot by one of his friends. For a while, Coppard was suspected of arranging the accident with his friend and he was sent to hospital with a label attached to his chest, SIW (Self-Inflicted Wound). Both men were eventually cleared of the charge but it was not until May, 1917, that Coppard was able to return to the Western Front. Soon afterwards, he took part in the Third Battle of Arras and in October, 1917, was promoted to the rank of corporal.

On 20th November, 1917, Coppard took part in the Battle of Cambrai. Coppard and other members of the Machine-Gun Corps followed 400 tanks across No Mans Land towards the German front-line. On the second day of the battle, Coppard was seriously wounded by a German machine-gunner. The bullet severed the femoral artery and it was only the swift action of a lance-corporal that used his boot-laces as a tourniquet that saved his life.

(1) George Coppard was sixteen when he joined the Royal West Surrey Regiment on 27th August, 1914.

Although I seldom saw a newspaper, I knew about the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand at Sarajevo. News placards screamed out at every street corner, and military bands blared out their martial music in the main streets of Croydon. This was too much for me to resist, and as if drawn by a magnate, I knew I had to enlist straight away.

I presented myself to the recruiting sergeant at Mitcham Road Barracks, Croydon. There was a steady stream of men, mostly working types, queuing to enlist. The sergeant asked me my age, and when told, replied, "Clear off son. Come back tomorrow and see if you're nineteen, eh?" So I turned up again the next day and gave my age as nineteen. I attested in a batch of a dozen others and, holding up my right hand, swore to fight for King and Country. The sergeant winked as he gave me the King's shilling, plus one shilling and ninepence ration money for that day.