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Dear all
A hundred years ago… at
home fear and bitterness probably reached a new peak in the North after the
December 16 German Naval raid made “Remember Scarborough!” a key recruiting
slogan for a while (although Hartlepool suffered the majority of the 592
casualties). On the Western Front, the new yet already perceived by some on
both sides as interminable slog of trench warfare proceeded most intensely in
The First Battle Of Champagne, mainly carried by the French Army. But, of
course, the event of the week was the Christmas Truce, 100,000 men, British,
German, French, downing weapons to sing, talk, exchange souvenirs, play
football in some fashion – just stop. This morning (Dec 20, 2014) I heard Jon
Snow on the radio saying, if TV news cameras had been there and the whole world
seen the footage within hours, the war would have had to end there and then...
it’s quite a thought, though easy enough to pick holes in given the way highly
scrutinised modern wars continue (see my father’s summation of his experience
which sits at the top of every page of this blog, through to the Peace Parade
Centenary in July, 2019).
Meanwhile, their Royal Fusiliers Battalion billeted with the
good people of Tonbridge, Kent, Sam Sutcliffe, 16, his older brother Ted, and
their fellow, still unarmed volunteers training to enter the conflict at some
unknown point started to think about Christmas...
FOOTSOLDIERSAM SPEAKS
Naturally, everyone wanted to get home – which,
for Sam and Ted, meant Edmonton, north London. Well, by a remarkable feat of
thoughtlessness, their tyro officers managed to turn the festive season into a
near-mutiny – albeit with an appropriately happy ending. Here’s my father’s
story of the build-up to Christmas, 1914 (noting as ever, that in these early
parts of his Memoir he wrote in the third person and called himself “Tommy”):
‘As Christmas 1914 approached, and it appeared likely the
Battalion would remain in England during the holiday, the chaps began to
speculate about whether they would be allowed home. “They’re sure to grant two
or three days leave,” was the general opinion. So, warming anticipation of
reunions with families gave rise to a happiness which permeated all the men.
Officers must have noticed the prevailing joyfulness but, perhaps, did not
realise what caused it.
An announcement
that Christmas Eve would be free of parades and work contained no reference to
leave of absence. Puzzlement and doubt replaced anticipatory elation. Then, as
groups of men discussed the strange silence about Christmas plans, anger caused
some men to threaten to go home without permission. “But that would be a crime,
either desertion with trial by court martial or else a charge of being absent
without leave” — so cautious men told the impatient ones.
It developed into
a serious situation; on the morning of Christmas Eve, no guidance having come
from above, a large number of men gathered on the London platform at the
railway station. They had bought their tickets and were now committing their
threatened breach of military discipline. But somebody had informed the RSM
about the looming exodus and his powerful voice could be heard ordering all men
to return to their billets.
Most anxious not
to provide authority with any excuse for questioning his stated age and discharging
him, Tommy had not made a decision about joining this rebellion. He had found a
position outside the station from which he observed the following scene, and
even heard much of what was said.
He saw no general
movement by the, shall we say, insurgents to leave the platform and, quite
suddenly, the booming voice of the RSM fell silent. All faces turned towards
the station entrance. The Colonel marched in with a substantial group of
officers, followed by porters carrying a large number of bags. The party
stopped abruptly at the sight of the assembled troops.
The Colonel’s face
expressed great surprise, as Tommy could clearly see. Then he turned to confer
with Captain Blunt, his adjutant. Other officers moved in closer and there was
much quiet discussion.
Some Privates
standing nearby were called forward and, like good soldiers, all saluted
correctly together, straight and upright, eyes looking straight ahead and not
at the officers asking the questions. They may have contemplated doing a bunk,
thought Tommy, but they had remembered their training. Soon the men saluted,
turned about and rejoined their comrades. Then the Colonel came forward and
addressed the men.
A terrific cheer
followed his speech so Tommy readily guessed its import. He climbed down from
his perch, passed through an open gate on into the station coal depot and
crossed several railway lines till he came to iron railings and called to men
on the platform, asking for information.
He learnt that the
amateur officers had made their first major blunder. They had taken no thought
of what was to happen to their men during the Christmas festivities. Vaguely,
they had assumed that the rank and file would remain mostly in their billets
and take meals with the families. For a start, this rather haughtily assumed
that those families would or could supply Christmas fare for comparative
strangers and also took for granted that the soldiers would wish to remain in
billets in such awkward circumstances. Yet the officers themselves had no doubt
as to where they were going to spend the holiday.
Of course, not all
the men had gathered at the railway station, so volunteers offered to go to
each CSM and pass on the good news: two-day leave had been granted to all.
Thus, the remainder of the men would travel to town by the next train — as
Tommy resolved to do.
Hurrying back to
Leigh Drive, he yelled the good news about Christmas leave to the few men he
passed. Mrs Fluter, kindliest of women, said she could have managed easily had
the lads been staying over the holiday and she thought her husband might even
be disappointed that they were not to share the good times together [Tommy’s
hosts had no children]. Tommy had not seen Churniston [with whom he shared the
billet] since breakfast, but assumed he also would travel to London. No worry
on that score, said Mrs F; she would tell him about the unexpected two days
off.’
So Sam/Tommy caught the
train and set off for home:
‘A few hours later, Tommy received cheerful greetings at
home and found Ted already there, as he’d expected. “Bet your life I got on
that first train,” he said. “We knew there would be nothing to do during
Christmas, and no order had been given to forbid us leaving Bunbridge, so we
were on our way regardless. The officers must have felt foolish when they
realised they hadn’t given any instructions as to what we should do during the
next two days. Still, who’s grumbling, eh?”’
All the best, and
season’s finest— FSS
Next week: Christmas at home, 1914...
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