Reclaimed stories: Norman Evans.

Here follows two dicoveries:
One about a man unlocked by an object.
One of an object found on a trip.

The medal.
I was twelve when Mrs. L died. And when that happened I was left in charge of a piece of the family legacy, A medal. The ribbon was orange, black, blue & white. On one side it featured a bearded man in profile, the other a naked rider holding a short sword, his mount was stepping on a shield with a germanic eagle on it. Beside the sheild lay a skull w. crossed bones. on the rim it had an inscription: 214968 DVR N. Evans R.A.
Twelve years went by and I moved to London. Upon returning four yrs. later I got the medal from my sister's basement. And using the inscription I found a document (shown above) in the The National Archives. Apart from the medal under my protection it told of another one I remember wagely. It featured the same bearded man only on this he was wearing a crown. on the other side was a sandstone fortification. From the document I could decipher that the medal had a bar on it, 'Afghanistan 1919' it reads.
Norman Evans was my great grandfather and what I learned of him was this: He was responsible for two of the six horses in an artillery battery, and one of eigth men manning it. He served in the great war and in the 3rd Afghan war.

A postcard.
When I was living London, I went on a trip to Llangollen that lies on the river Dee in North Wales. This Is where Norman Evans lived before for death of his second wife and he moved to Denmark to be with his daugther Mrs. L. I visited his house, the cornmill he work in as a clerk and visited on a trip from Denmark when it had been turned into a weaver's workshop- I had a pint and a meal there, because it was now a gastro pub. I also visit local history museum where my mother years before had met a woman who knew Norman Evans. I met her and she told me that when she was a girl she brought eggs to him, eggs he got in exchange for corn he gave her mother to feed the chickens. 'It was a long way to his house from the town, and you had to walk up a hill'. But he was always gave her a soda when she visited.
She gave me a postcard he once sent her mother for christmas, it featured a picture of the house my mother grew up in. 'They where good friends, he would always send my mother a card for christmas. Alot of things got burned or thrown away when mother died, but this survived I have no idea how or why.'