Bugle that sounded the advance at the Somme to sound again 100 years later

The bugle that sounded the advance of the 36th(Ulster) Division at the Battle of the Somme on July 1, will be sounded early on Friday morning in Enniskillen to mark 100 years since the historic battle took place.
The first day at the Somme was one of the most horrific of the First World War and among the 2,000 Irish soldiers who died, 604 were Inniskillings serving with the 36th(Ulster) Division.
100 years ago, Drummer Jack Downs of the 10th Battalion, Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, sounded the Advance of the 36th(Ulster) Division at the Battle of the Somme using the bugle which is now held in the collection of the Inniskillings Museum. 
On Friday, July 1, it will be part of the Somme commemoration at Enniskillen Castle beginning at 7am.
50 years ago, the bugle was sounded by a Fermanagh man, Corporal Kenneth Johnston, from the 1st Battalion, The Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers then stationed in West Berlin.
He along with a party of 150 from the Inniskillings, took part in the 50th anniversary of the battle in two ceremonies, the first at the 36th(Ulster) Division Memorial, Ulster Tower, near Thiepval and the second ceremony in the evening.
At the time it was considered an outstanding honour for Corporal Johnston, a former student of Enniskillen Technical College as he was chosen as the Battalion’s 1966 champion bugler and presented with a silver trophy.
The 100th anniversary of the Battle of the Somme on July 1 in Enniskillen will also include wreath laying by the Enniskillen Branch of the Royal British Legion and an ecumenical Service of Reflection in St. Macartin’s Cathedral, Enniskillen at 7.30pm when a new Inniskillings Window will be dedicated.
At the service, a poem written by William Copeland Trimble, then editor of The Impartial Reporter called “Son” after his youngest son, Noel was killed on April 29 1917 at Hulloch will be read. The first paragraph reads; 
“Out of the deep of byegone years,
Out of the mist of joy and tears, 
Of childhood’s smile and boyish fears,
You come. Beloved son!
No mother near to soothe you now,
The spirit cheer, or smooth the brow
No crooning, runeing, lullaby
For you, my baby son.”