Dear all
A hundred years ago today… the UK
declared a naval blockade on Germany. The next day the German Navy shelled the
British coast near Gorleston and Yarmouth. During the following week, while
battles on the Western Front (especially Ypres) continued to feed the cannon,
in northern Turkey Russia launched the Bergmann Offensive against the Ottoman
Empire, in German East Africa (now part of Tanzania) the German Colonial Army
beat back the British, and the British and Indian Armies took the Ottoman fort
of Fao in Mesopotamia (now Iraq) – this last motivated by the need to protect
oil supplies from the Persian Gulf.
Back
in scrape-a-living north London, 16-year-old volunteer Sam Sutcliffe and his
Royal Fusilier pals gradually inched away from their peacetime lives.
FOOTSOLDIERSAM SPEAKS
Last week I left Tommy (my father Sam’s alias
for himself in the early chapters of the Memoir which he wrote in the third
person) worrying about his strong feelings when the Army finally gave his
Battalion their uniforms and great changes in his life became imminent – could
he ever be a “real man” when such childish or even “feminine” turmoil roiled
within him? Separations loomed: from his family and even the three lads – his older
brother Ted, Len Winns and Harold Mellow – he’d joined up with. He writes in
his Memoir:
“The present emotions stirred
because of Tommy’s realisation that each member of his group of four had
already begun to act independently. No longer did they wait for each other at
the end of the day’s training, for their Companies often used different parade
grounds... Tommy hoped he and his brother would try to spend time together as
often as possible, but he would not make a nuisance of himself by hanging on,
as he put it to himself.”
The evening after they got their uniforms,
Tommy/Sam and Ted took a “promenade” around their neighbourhood, Edmonton, and
received “approving smiles” from passers-by “allaying Tommy’s continuing fears
that his obvious lack of years might be noticed”. But his growing confidence
soon took another shaking:
“... they met Madge
Rocks, Harold Mellow’s (sort of) half-sister. Their family structure had its
mysteries: a sister of Harold’s mother lived with the family and, when she too
produced her contribution in the form of a bonnie baby girl, some arrangement
agreeable to all must have been evolved, for later on she added a son to the
growing population in the small house. The father, a quiet man, spent his days
providing for all these healthy eaters. It was not disclosed how he spent his
nights.
Nevertheless... Madge became a
competent shorthand typist and a solid church worker. She was wide. Wide, that
is, of shoulder and hips, not in the worldly, knowledgeable sense. A little over
five feet tall and wide, her face wide and attractive, her fine hazel eyes wide
apart, her wide mouth usually further widened by a smile. As to the rest of
her, the long skirts of the period meant that no one really knew what allowed
Madge to perambulate except that, of course, the wide shoes she wore doubtless
covered a pair of wide feet. But those who knew her valued her good will, so
when she cheerily answered Ted’s greeting, then looked at Tommy and laughed,
she mangled the boy’s pride. He really took offence and, red of face, walked
away and went home.”
A couple of days later, Tommy/Sam’s H Company
learned, via a hubbub of rumour, rather than official announcement that “We’re
going!” Nobody told them where, except that the journey would begin on Saturday
morning (probably November 7) at London Bridge station and “an important job”
awaited them when they detrained. Tommy/Sam reckons it was only then he
realised that “he had become a little ashamed of the almost-peacetime way of life which
had continued since he and the other three quit their office jobs.”
“That evening, when he and Ted explained the day’s
developments, their parents said they were pleased there was no immediate risk
of their sons going to the battlefront. They had read the casualty lists the
daily newspapers published — lists headed by the names of commissioned officers
and their Battalions, followed by the numbers of ‘other ranks’ killed or
wounded. This practice must have been customary in previous wars, but this time
the numbers of dead and wounded soon grew far too large to catalogue daily —
secrecy, too, concerning the whereabouts and movements of troops, came to take
precedence over the honourable mention of casualties among officers and
gentlemen.
They all
assumed that, initially, they would not travel far away and they would be able
to come home fairly frequently, so they said their farewells that Saturday
morning at home without any suggestion that father, or anyone else, should go
to London Bridge to see them off. Kitbags slung over shoulders, the brothers
hurried away, pausing on the corner at the top of the street to wave to the
family standing outside the house.
His usual
phlegmatic self in a family not given to demonstrations of affection, Ted
didn’t tell Tommy that he had any particular pleasure or regret at the coming
change in their lives. So Tommy imitated this almost casual treatment of what
was surely a very important occasion. As far as he could judge, he might be the
only one who did feel sad about the parting — if so, he too would also show no
sorrow.
Of course,
Tommy may have been wrong about this. Perhaps mother would miss Ted; she had
always been proud of his achievements. But little about himself appeared to
have pleased her, Tommy thought. He lacked the push and drive and confidence
she frequently preached about. He always tried to behave as if he had no doubt
about his own abilities and, among strangers, he usually did feel able to cope
with most situations. But at home with his family, a sense of inadequacy
assailed him often. A psychiatrist would have a convincing explanation ready,
but Tommy found no good reason for it, much as he regretted it…
However,
before he left the house, Tommy’s father had shaken hands with him, wished him
well and looked directly at him while doing so, which made Tommy feel that,
probably, here was one who had some affection for him. Mother let him kiss her
cheek, which was something — he could not remember when such a thing had last
occurred... These thoughts nagged at him when he and Ted turned the corner and
walked away from home.
Even so,
anticipation of where they were going, where they might sleep that night and
under what conditions, soon put a spring in his stride.”
All the best — FSS
Next week: Sam’s journey into the unknown ends... in Kent
No comments:
Post a Comment