Category: Walter Tull

Even though Walter Tull’s body (and his diary) was never recovered, a fascinating document has recently come to public notice that sheds light on Walter’s life and ancestry.
It was found in the journal of Captain Cobham-Smith of Little Withens, Hampshire. This journal had lain in a cabinet drawer until house clearance on the death of his daughter, and only child, Lucia Cobham-Smith.

To Posterity
Last night, I had the great honour to share an hour with Lieutenant Walter Tull – an extraordinary fellow – who showed me a deeply personal manuscript that he keeps folded in his diary. This note reveals that Walter is an even more remarkable fellow than I had first surmised.
I penned this record of events straight after Walter left me. I have tried to be as faithful as humanly possible to the words I saw and heard.

To Whom It May Concern

In the event of my death, I hope this account of my ancestry will let Posterity know of my Past, and inform the Present of how we may build a new Future.
When I was a boy, my father told me of his mother’s life, together with her memories of her – and my – lineage. My grandmother had told my father that her mother would sit her on her aged knee and sometimes whisper and sometimes sing and sometimes cry this tale:
‘Child, we came here to Barbados more than a hundred years ago. From a land called Africa, far away to the East across this shining sea. Our people, my child, your ancestors and mine, were taken from the secure and happy compound of family. A happy land of plenty and comfort: sheep and goats and the cow, and the yams and the corn and bananas and palm wine.
We lived the gladsome life of the free and easy; this was the way of life of our people, the Isha Yoruba near Bante; a peaceful, peace-loving people. No war. No killing. No slaves. The old gods. Even though I revere the past, my child, heed this:
I no longer trust the old gods and neither must you, child.
Once I learned the English language, and alphabet, and learned how to understand the Bible, I learned that the old gods were the wrong gods, child. I know the true God now, the Christian God and the Lord Jesus Christ.
And the Bible emancipated me in other ways, too.
I used to think the letter B was juju, with a malediction from Hell, my innocent one. To me, it signified the Bight of Benin, where we were chained in the Baracoon before the manacles and chains on the ocean voyage to Barbados.
Bight, Benin, Barracoon, and the slave ship from Bristol with its guns and kettles and pans from Birmingham, and its scarlet Stroud cloth.
I now know that the letter B in fact leads to freedom. The Bible!
When the Halleluja Day comes with its Jubilee, we shall all be free from bondage. No more Bondage! No more Barracoons! No more Barricades! No more Barriers!’
“Remember this, Walter, as you pass through your life. Your grand-mother was once owned by another human being – she was the property of a certain Reverend Joseph Duncan Ostrehan of Sheepscombe, near Stroud. But she helped me gain a trade and become a master carpenter, a master of the grain and of the plane: the calling of The Lord Jesus Christ. Remember my mother’s words: A Jubilee! No Barriers!”

Walter turned to me as he left: ‘I know that the letter B curse superstition is balderdash … But I sometimes wonder about the letter S: Shackles, Stroud, Scarlet, Sheepscombe … and now we’re at the Somme …’
March 13th 1917

Postscript

After the war, I became something of an anthropologist and was fortunate enough to be invited to the United States, where I had the even greater good fortune, there, to meet Zora Neale Hurston. She spoke of her conversations with the former slave, Cudjo Lewis, and her proposed book Barracoon. Her conversations with Cudjo and his acute memory of life confirm as true the recollections of Walter’s great grandmother.
The word Barracoon is derived from the Spanish language and denotes a building to hold those awaiting the middle passage from Africa to the West Indies and the Americas as slaves.
(Barraca meaning hut; or a barracks.)

Walter was killed at the Somme on March 25th 1918. RIP, Walter.

Let the living answer the roll call of the dead:
Walter Tull of Spurs and Northampton Town KIA 1918;

And now the names of other Cobblers:
Harold Redhead KIA 1918
George Badenoch KIA 1915
Bob Bonthron
Harry Hanger KIA 1918

Harold Springthorpe 1915

Harry Vann KIA 1915

Bernard Vann VC KIA 1918

Frank Taylor survived the war
Frederick Walden survived the war
Frederick Whittaker survived the war

Names from another century come back to haunt us:
Harold, George, Bob, Harry, Freddie, Bernard, Frank,
Names once shouted over a football pitch,
‘Give it to Walter’,
‘Over here, Freddie,
‘Shoot, Harry’;

The imperatives of a football team
Replaced by new orders in khaki, with
Night patrols, barbed wire and machine guns;
Muddied football boots forgotten
In the trench foot fields of Flanders;
The clamour from the ground and stands
No match for whizz bangs, mortars and howitzers;
The fogs of a November match,
Innocent memories in a gas attack:

‘Over the top tomorrow, Freddie’,
‘Keep your head down, Harry’,
‘Stay quiet. Don’t shoot, George’,
‘Don’t worry, mate. We’ll get you on this stretcher’,
‘Where’s Frank?’

You would have known each other,
Played with or against each other,
Trained together,
Boarded ships and trains together,
Relieved each other in the trenches,
And who knows?
Some of the Northampton players who survived the war,
May have searched for your body, Walter,
Before and after your last breath and memories,
Memories of Spurs and Northampton,
And childhood,
And a grandmother who had been a slave,
And you, an officer now,
Revered and loved by his men,
Searching for you out there in no man’s land,
As you breathe your last breath,
In whatever corner of a foreign field,
Which will always be an England,
Where the wind rushes by.

They were summoned from the hillside,
They were called in from the glen,
And the country found them ready
At the stirring call for men.
Let no tears add to their hardship,
As the soldiers pass along,
And although your heart is breaking
Make it sing this cheery song:

Keep the home fires burning
While your hearts are yearning,
Though the lads are far away,
They dream of home.
There’s a silver lining,
Through the dark clouds shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out,
Till the boys come home.

1914
4th August: 7.49 p.m.

The factory hooter blows ten times: the order to mobilize: war.

Men march in the streets between Swindon Junction and Swindon Old Town stations; transportation of military personnel and equipment starts. The mayor speaks, to loud cheers: ‘You are leaving home and friends at the call of duty … We will see that they do not want. Our good wishes go with you … Be of good cheer. Goodbye, Good luck, and God bless you all!’
Mixed emotions on the platform as the train left for Portsmouth.

11th August

The mayor releases his plan to boost recruitment. Meetings in the Great Western Park and the Mechanics’ Institute: two hundred join up by the end of the month.

August 15th-17th

45 troop trains leave Swindon. Will it really, ‘All be over by Christmas’?

The Army and the Navy need attention,
The outlook isn’t healthy you’ll admit,
But I’ve got a perfect dream of a new recruiting scheme,
Which I think is absolutely it.
If only other girls would do as I do
I believe that we could manage it alone,
For I turn all suitors from me but the sailor and the Tommy,
I’ve an army and a navy of my own.

Lydiard Millicent’s Viscount Bolingbroke enlists as a private – uniquely for an aristocrat. He will suffer from shell shock and be eventually discharged from the army.

5th September

The first reports of the deaths of the some 1,000 Swindonians: that of William George Sheldon (his ship, HMS Pathfinder, was blown up by a mine). Then comes the news of the death of Captain Gerald Ponsonby (died from wounds), son of the former vicar of St Mark’s Church.

September 13th

‘On our left at the Battle of the Aisne were the Wiltshires located in trenches outside a wood. The Germans came through the wood in mass … with bugles blowing … At about seventy-five yards range an officer sprang from the trench and yelled “Fire!” Then the Germans got a taste of … 15 rounds a minute … The Wiltshires then sprang from their trenches and charged with the bayonet … It was a horrible din … as dusk settled down all that could be heard were the groans of the wounded.’

September

The ‘Liberal Women’ of Swindon collect clothing for Belgian refugees. Refugees arrive in Swindon for the duration. Some thirty homes furnished; a hostel established in Bath Road, too. ‘How hospitable Swindon has been! And what great sympathy we received everywhere!”

By the end of the month over 3,000 Wiltshiremen enlisted; Lord Methuen said this showed their sobriety and their resistance to the demon drink.

On Sunday I walk out with a Soldier,
On Monday I’m taken by a Tar,
On Tuesday I’m out with a baby Boy Scout,
On Wednesday a Hussar;
On Thursday I go out with a driver,
On Friday, the Captain of the crew;
But on Saturday I’m willing, if you’ll only take the shilling,
To make a man of any one of you.

‘It was about this time that … A German corps sent forward the front files dressed in the uniforms taken from the killed and wounded of the Wilts Regiment. The English commander was suspicious and gave orders to fix bayonets … ‘Nein, nein! … Ve are de Vilts.” The dialect was hardly suggestive of the Downs, and the English officer gave the order to charge.’

October 8th

Milton Road baths converted into a hospital.

I teach the tenderfoot to face the powder,
That gives an added lustre to my skin,
And I show the raw recruit how to give a chaste salute,
So when I’m presenting arms he’s falling in.
It makes you almost proud to be a woman.
When you make a strapping soldier of a kid.
And he says ‘You put me through it and I didn’t want to do it
But you went and made me love you so I did.’

Autumn

The railway works commences its war time role: producing locomotives, wagons, trucks, carriages, water carts, shells, cranes, fuses, guns, gun carriages, ammunition wagons, limbers, bombs, stretchers …

And with so many troops passing through the town in transit, the mayor, again: ‘To ask all householders on whom soldiers may be billeted to do the best they can for the men and to give them a kindly welcome. It will mean some inconvenience, but I am sure we are all willing to put up with this in this great national emergency.’

‘I’ll do my best for him, Sergeant, I’ve a boy of my own joined up and billeted somewhere’; ‘I’ve no one who could go in my own family, and so I’ll do my best for those who are going to fight for us’.

On Sunday I walk out with a Bo’sun.
On Monday a Rifleman in green,
On Tuesday I choose a ‘sub’ in the ‘Blues’,
On Wednesday a Marine;
On Thursday a Terrier from Toot Hill,
On Friday a Midshipman or two,
But on Saturday I’m willing, if you’ll only take the shilling,
To make a man of any one of you.

Schools such as Westcott Place, Ferndale Road, Clarence Street and the Higher Elementary are turned into barracks.

5,000 camped out at Chiseldon and Draycot Foliat. Constant traffic from Swindon Junction up Victoria Hill to the MSWJR at Old Town, and then on to the branch line. Worries that some onlookers gazing out from the bridge over Devizes Road could be spies lead to the parapet being raised and obstructed with new fences.

Lord Kitchener sends a telegram on the subject of the construction of the Chiseldon camp: ‘ … I should like you all to know that it is fully recognised that they, in carrying out the work of helping to supply accommodation for the troops, are doing their duty for their King and country equally with those who have joined the army and active service in the field.’

Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,
And smile, smile, smile,
While you’ve a Lucifer to light your fag,
Smile, boys, that’s the style.
What’s the use of worrying?
It never was worthwhile, so
Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,
And smile, smile, smile.

1st November

F Beard KIA, HMS Good Hope at the Battle of Coronel.

13th November

Billy Brewer, STFC, KIA Hooge, Belgium, aged 21
Enlisted 1st September 1914; name on the Menin Gate.

Christmas 1914

The 1st Wiltshire Battalion’s trench was only 30 yards from the German, ‘and was only a big ditch full of water and mud’; the 2nd Battalion was 300-400 yards from the German position: ‘A kind of informal truce was arranged … both on Christmas Day and Boxing Day between the hours of 9 a.m. and 4 p.m., during which the English were chiefly employed in recovering and burying their dead, and conversations were held between members of both armies; the doctor says, ‘One of the soldiers recognized a German who had been working with him in Yorkshire; they were apparently old friends, and had a long talk together.’

I wonder if any STFC supporter, by then in uniform, kicked a ball anywhere out there in no man’s land in those kick-a-bouts of legend? But it is very likely that George Bathe of STFC witnessed some of all this (he is buried at Kemmel Cemetery – see 20th January 1915).

http://radicalstroud.co.uk/the-1914-truce-in-contex/

1915
January

The Swindon unit of Royal Engineers marches to Ypres.
Six blasts of the hooter will be sounded in the event of Zeppelins approaching Swindon.
Committee decides to spend £2 a week on groceries for Wiltshire POWs.

20th January

George Bathe, STFC, Wiltshire Regiment, killed.

February

Trade Union and Co-op complaints about ‘the uncalled-for rise in prices of food and fuel,’ with calls for government intervention and ‘steps to remove that burden from the worker’ – prices some 25% higher than before the War. You can only get four of ‘the humble’ Woodbines for a penny now too, instead of five. Licensing hours restricted too.

February 5th

Swindon Town Miniature Rifle Club propose that a local Volunteer Training Corps be formed with of men ineligible for the army but who could be trained for the possibility of confronting invasion. An outdoor rifle range will follow at the Town Gardens and Gorse Hill School will be used for drilling.

The new Army Cyclist Corp is formed, based at Chisledon. Its brief is to patrol the coast so as to respond with mobile alacrity in the event of invasion.

Goodby-ee,! Goodbyee!
Wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eye-ee,
Though it’s hard to part I know,
I’ll be tickled to death to go!
Don’t cry-ee, don’t sigh-ee,
There’s a silver lining in the sky-ee!
Bon soir, old thing, cheerio, chin chin,
Nah-poo, toodle-oo, goodbye-ee!

March 10-12th

‘the desperate battle of Neuve Chapelle’; Wiltshire 2nd Battalion in the thick of it with terrible losses; a letter home ran thus: ‘It was a terrible fight, for all my poor mates fell, and how I came through is a miracle. We are proud to say we drove the Germans out of their trenches and captured about 1,000 prisoners. The Germans don’t like cold steel … It was a terrible sight to see so many dead with which the ground was littered’.

7th May

Lusitania sunk with two Swindonians on board: Mrs Chirgwin and Richard, her son, on board returning from a holiday in Cuba, killed.

15th May

The large hall within the Town Hall opened as a ‘soldier’s rest’ with tea, meals and concerts – a welcome contrast with camp life at Chiseldon.

23rd May

Battle of Loos sees men of Swindon in action: 2nd Wilts.

The Soldier’s Rest in Newport Street is so popular with its quiet facilities for reading, writing, tea and whist that 3,000 soldiers use it in just one weekend. With costs increasing beyond the income from subscriptions, the committee decides it would have to charge 3d. a head per visit.

Sister Susie’s sewing shirts for soldiers,
Such skill at sewing shirts our shy young sister Susie shows!
Some soldiers send epistles, say they’d rather sleep in thistles
Than the saucy soft short shirts for soldiers sister Susie sews.

June

A new hospital at Chiseldon replaces the temporary one at Milton Road; beds in tents, too.

Who’s for the game, the biggest that’s played,
The red crashing game of a fight?
Who’ll grip and tackle the job unafraid?
And who thinks he’d rather sit tight?
Who’ll toe the line for the signal to ‘Go!’?
Who’ll give his country a hand?
Who wants a turn to himself in the show?
And who wants a seat in the stand?

Rex Warneford shoots down a Zeppelin, when flying over Brussels. Awarded the VC.

William Legget dies with his brother Ernest by his side: ‘He was a very brave chap and was very happy, right up to the last. I was proud of the way he stuck it out’ is what Ernest wrote to their mother. (Ernest would later be KIA.)

July

GWR ‘Trip’ cancelled, though hopes held out for a September holiday.

The Wiltshires arrive at Gallipoli. Their bravery will earn them the sobriquet: ‘The Iron Division’.
‘If I should die, think only this of me:
That there is some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England …’

12th July

Jim Chalmers, STFC, KIA Gallipoli, aged 37, Royal Scots Fusiliers.

14th July

Edward Thomas joins up and writes ‘For These’: his reasons for enlisting.

‘ … And also that something may be sent
To be contented with, I ask of Fate.’

My mum born and is named Nancy Mary Lorraine ‘in honour of our gallant French allies.’ It is Bastille Day.

September 4th

STFC open the season with an amateur team and lose to Portsmouth five goals to two.

Who knows it won’t be a picnic – not much-
Yet eagerly shoulders a gun?
Who would much rather come back with a crutch
Than lie low and be out of the fun?
Come along, lads –
But you’ll come on all right –
For there’s only one course to pursue,
Your country is up to her neck in a fight,
And she’s looking and calling for you.

Wiltshires involved at Loos.

Poor Law Unions report a decline in vagrancy but an increase in the number of casual tramps. Stratton Workhouse reports on a reduction in inmates and the provision of outdoor relief.

The roads continue to deteriorate with so much military traffic – and the streets are dimly lit … potholes a constant menace.

If you want to find the old battalion,
I know where they are, I know where they are, I know where they are
If you want to find the old battalion, I know where they are,
They’re hanging on the old barbed wire,
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.

October

Parcels now being sent to 600 Wiltshire POWs.

December

Care of POWs now transferred to the Red Cross, under orders of the War Office. Swindonian POWs number almost ninety – the total will not radically increase until the March 1918 German offensive.

The ‘Bantams’ arrive in town – men of five feet in height seen marching in unison with six-foot sergeants.
Scarlet fever epidemic hits the town: an embargo on the Soldier’s Rest.

Christmas Day

Stratton Workhouse inmates did have their usual dinner, a tree and a visit to the Arcadia picture house …

It was Christmas Day in the workhouse,
The ‘appiest day of the year,
Men’s hearts were full of gladness
And their bellies full of beer …

Christmas Day

Reading 4 Swindon 3

Boxing Day

Swindon 4 Reading 2 (‘a farcical game in a hurricane.’)

We’ve watched you playing cricket and every kind of game,
At football, golf and polo you men have made your name.
But now your country calls you to play your part in war.
And no matter what befalls you
We shall love you all the more.
So come and join the forces
As your fathers did before.
Oh, we don’t want to lose you but we think you ought to go.
For your King and your country both need you so.
We shall want you and miss you
But with all our might and main
We shall cheer you, thank you, bless you
When you come home again.

December 31st: “ Hopes that were high last New Year’s Eve have been brought down to the dust of realities…We have learned that there can be no such thing as an easy victory; the price must be paid to the full.”
Public praise for individuals contributing to the war effort – for example: Mr Haine of Sevenhampton with one acre of cabbages and one of turnips; the Hon Mrs Agar with the crops from eight apple trees and five walnut trees.

I don’t want to be a soldier,
I don’t want to go to war,
I’d rather stay at home,
Around the streets to roam,
And live on the earnings of a lady typist.
I don’t want a bayonet in my belly,
I don’t want my shoulders shot away,
I’d rather stay in England,
In merry, merry England,
And eat and drink my drunken life away.

1916
21st February

In the wake of conscription, the first tribunal meets to hear appeals:
‘Oh. Don’t you take him from me, gentlemen, I shall be left alone.’
And, ‘A month’s exemption was granted’ for ‘a carriage fitter, and widower with three children. He said that he cooked the meals and made the beds’.

All night long I hear you calling,
Calling sweet and low;
Seem to hear your footsteps falling,
Ev’ry where I go.
Tho’ the road between us stretches
Many a weary mile,
I forget that you’re not with me yet
When I think I see you smile.
Chorus:
There’s a long, long trail a-winding
Into the land of my dreams,
Where the nightingales are singing
And a white moon beams.
There’s a long, long night of waiting
Until my dreams all come true;
Till the day when I’ll be going down
That long, long trail with you

May 5th

HMS Hampshire goes down off Orkney. Lord Kitchener dies, as do men of Swindon who are in the crew: William Saloway and Arthur Marshall.

May 21st

‘Daylight Saving’ introduced at 2 a.m. – ‘but of course the public put their clocks forward an hour before going to bed on Saturday evening.’

25th May

Ted Murphy, STFC, North Staffs Regiment, dies of head wounds at the King George V Hospital, Lambeth, aged 35.

‘Middle of the year’

The War Office acquires land between Gorse Hill and Stratton for a new munition works.

July 1st

The Battle of the Somme

Bombed last night, and bombed the night before.
Going to get bombed tonight if we never get bombed anymore.
When we’re bombed, we’re scared as we can be.
Can’t stop the bombing from old Higher Germany.
They’re warning us, they’re warning us.
One shell hole for just the four of us.
Thank your lucky stars there are no more of us.
So one of us can fill it all alone.
Gassed last night, and gassed the night before.
Going to get gassed tonight if we never get gassed anymore.
When we’re gassed, we’re sick as we can be.
For phosgene and mustard gas is much too much for me.
They’re killing us, they’re killing us.
One respirator for the four of us.
Thank your lucky stars that we can all run fast.
So one of us can take it all alone.

13th August

The Wilts Battery of the 3rd Wessex R.F.A. at Vimy Ridge, ‘was for twelve hours shelled with eight-inch shells; the bombardment was witnessed by His Majesty the King from Mont St. Eloy, and he sent two aides-de-camp the next day to ascertain how the Battery had fared, believing that they must have been annihilated … A week later the Battery was subjected to a gas attack …’

22nd August

Edward Bevan killed when submarine HMS E16 goes down off Yarmouth.

September 6th

Town Council: ‘this Council views with alarm the continued high price of commodities, and calls upon the Government to introduce at once measures whereby this may be prevented … a copy of the resolution be sent to the Prime Minister …’

Stratton Road slaughterhouse allowed to pass on the flesh of horses for local consumption.

16th September

SWINDON versus FLYING CORPS (Farnborough)

Ground 4d Boys 2d
Grand stand Gents 1/2 Ladies 7d
The Flying Corps included players from Arsenal, Chelsea, Everton,
Millwall, Fulham, Bolton, Maryhill and Oldham.

The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling,
For you but not for me,
And the little devils how they sing-a-ling-a-ling,
For you but not for me.
Oh death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling,
Oh grave, thy victory?
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me.

19th October

A future mayor of Swindon, William Robins, loses his brother, Harold, killed at Dunkirk. William is a C.O. and a pacifist.
Another objector said ‘He could not take the military oath to kill anyone … contrary to his religious belief … objected to military service of any kind. He was quite willing to help in saving life in his private capacity, but he could not take part in any duties in a military capacity … had held his present views … since July, 1912 … asked that other points … should be heard in camera … After considerable discussion and argument … the applicant was granted conditional exemption.’

Hush, here comes a Whizzbang.
Hush, here comes a Whizzbang.
Now you soldiermen get down those stairs,
Down in your dugouts and say your prayers.
Hush, here comes a Whizzbang,
And it’s making right for you.
And you’ll see all the wonders of No-Man’s-Land,
If a Whizzbang, hits you.

Streets get darker; shops close earlier; shop lights shaded – the Defence of the Realm Act. Restrictions on drink such that ‘treating’ whereby ‘a man buys a drink for his wife when he buys one for himself’ is technically illegal. Church bells cease ringing for evening service from November onwards at Christ Church, too, ‘lest their notes should be a guide to some prowling foe in the air.’

Up to your waist in water, up to your eyes in slush,
using the kind of language that makes the sergeant blush,
Who wouldn’t join the army? That’s what we all enquire.
Don’t we pity the poor civilian sitting by the fire.

(Chorus)
Oh, oh, oh it’s a lovely war.
Who wouldn’t be a soldier, eh? Oh it’s a shame to take the pay.
As soon as reveille has gone we feel just as heavy as lead,
but we never get up till the sergeant brings our breakfast up to bed.
Oh, oh, oh, it’s a lovely war.

what do we want with eggs and ham when we’ve got plum and apple jam?
Form fours. Right turn. How shall we spend the money we earn?
Oh, oh, oh it’s a lovely war.

1917

January

Old Swindonian Lieut. A. E. Hall sends a letter from HMS Inflexible hoping that the committee could send some vegetables to his ship and then another letter: ‘Officers and men very greatly appreciate your valuable gift … A surplus over and above our immediate needs was presented to HMS Tiger. It has been most kind and generous of you, and we wish you all good luck and a very prosperous year.’

Part of the workhouse at Stratton converted into a hospital for the duration.

Many women take on male jobs; on the trams, for example. ‘Girl-clerks’, too.
The Swindon women’s work for the Red Cross is recognized:
‘Wounded men who were fortunate enough to be sent to Swindon will always have in their hearts a warm corner for the town because of the devotion and loving service shown by so many of Swindon’s women.’

(Tune: ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’)

Forward Joe Soap’s army, marching without fear,
With our old commander, safely in the rear.
He boasts and skites from morn till night,
And thinks he’s very brave,
But the men who really did the job are dead and in their grave.
Forward Joe Soap’s army, marching without fear,
With our old commander, safely in the rear.
Amen.

February

The Royal Wiltshire Yoemanry ‘in a cavalry encounter forced the enemy to evacuate … in the most trying weather conditions; in an exposed country, utterly devoid of cover or billets of any kind, the troops endured the utmost rigours of the winter, facing rain, snow, and a murderous blizzard; the only sleeping shelter they had consisted of bivouacs made from waterproof sheets … During this time, the horses suffered terribly, for there was no shelter for them … numbers died of exhaustion and exposure.’

March

A meeting of allotment holders reported that with the help of the Town Council, the Corporation and Major F. P. Goddard, over 4,000 tenants were cultivating over 300 acres. And, with the prompting of the Mayoress, ‘it was no uncommon sight to see women at work on their husbands’ plots, and in many cases women held allotments of their own.’

Six acres of land at Whitworth Road Cemetery were ploughed up and planted – unsuccessfully – with potatoes.

Tram conductresses; the ‘postman was a lady’; teachers; munitions work; office work … women bringing ‘an idealism of which few men are capable … and displaying to the full that patience and steady persistence that are so strong an element in the feminine nature … a frivolous and small minority failed to rise to the high level of the rest … the heartless pleasure-seeker, the vulgar imitator of men-workers … the selfish spendthrift …’

When does a soldier grumble? When does he make a fuss?
No one is more contented in all the world than us.
Oh it’s a cushy life, boys, really we love it so:
Once a fellow was sent on leave and simply refused to go.

(Chorus)
Come to the cookhouse door, boys, sniff the lovely stew.
Who is it says the colonel gets better grub than you? Any complaints this morning?

Do we complain? Not we.
What’s the matter with lumps of onion floating around the tea?
(Chorus)

5th April

Sergeant William Gosling awarded the VC, risking his life by nullifying a German mortar shell.

9th April

Edward Thomas KIA. His obituary in the Swindon Advertiser would read:
‘His passionate love of the countryside was largely nourished in the neighbourhood of Swindon, along the Canal Side to Wootton Bassett, around Coate Reservoir, and elsewhere. No man has done more and, in more capable language painted the beauties of the environs of our town.’
WH Davies, who would later move to Nailsworth wrote this elegy:

Killed in action

(EDWARD THOMAS)

Happy the man whose home is still
In Nature’s green and peaceful ways;
To wake and hear the birds so loud,
That scream for joy to see the sun
Is shouldering past a sullen cloud.

And we have known those days, when we
Would wait to hear the cuckoo first;
When you and I, with thoughtful mind,
Would help a bird to hide her nest,
For fear of other hands less kind.

But thou, my friend, art lying dead:
War, with its hell-born childishness,
Has claimed thy life, with many more:
The man that loved this England well,
And never left it once before.

24th April

‘Swindon Hill’, Macedonia: Ten men of Swindon vaporised; George James Smith of Rodbourne, for example.

June 1917

‘The appalling loss of life during the war emphasized the great need of caring for the infants of the race – 36 and 37 Milton Road converted into a Maternity Nursing Home.

9th July

Dennis Knee killed when HMS Vanguard sinks after an enormous explosion at Scapa Flow (over 800 killed).

Swindon Trades Council: ‘That this Council, noting … the criminal incompetence of high officials and the governing classes generally, as disclosed by the tragic report of the campaign in Mesopotamia … demands that the severest punishment be visited upon the parties responsible … no scheme of re-organization can be of real effective service unless direct representatives of soldiers and workmen sit upon all War office administrative bodies.’

August 4th

‘That, on this third anniversary of the declaration of a righteous war, this meeting of the Citizens of Swindon records its inflexible determination to continue to a victorious end the struggle in maintenance of those ideals of liberty and justice which are the common and sacred cause of the Allies.’

August 5th

Top brass inspect the Volunteers’ practice and training trenches in the field off Redcliffe Street; they also observe a practice attack conducted in two waves. The top brass are impressed not only with all of this but also with the smartness of the Volunteers.

16th August, TOWN HALL, SWINDON,

The Wiltshire Regiment Care Committee and the mayor invite ‘ the Wives and Children of the Swindon Prisoners of War, and two of the Nearest Relatives of the Unmarried Prisoners, to a SOCIAL GATHERING at the Town Hall…’

September 1917

Gaza:
‘It is with deepest regret that I sit down to write and tell you about the death of your son, Private J H Woodham, who was killed this morning… Your son was in a trench … carrying out his duty by standing-to with his rifle grenades, when an unlucky shell landed in the middle of the trench and exploded,’

9th October

Arthur Beadsworth, STFC, Sergeant, 7th Battalion Leicestershire Regiment, KIA, aged 41, the Somme, gas poisoning.

‘Gas! Gas! – Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring, like a man in fire or lime. –
Dim through the misty panes and green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning …’
As if in a sea of lime …’

11th October

Arthur Milton, STFC, Bombardier, Royal Field Artillery, KIA, aged 31, Belgium. Remembered at Tyne Cot cemetery.

19th October

Harold Robins killed at Dunkirk.

November

Under the guidance of Mary Slade, the women of Swindon have sent parcels, and loaves in their thousands to Swindon’s POWs behind German lines. Clothes and books too. ‘Had it not been for the parcels received over there from Great Britain we should have starved.’ They also help war widows who, of course, lost their husband’s pay, and often had large families to support.

Second time this year that Captain HH Williams mentioned in dispatches by Field Marshall Haig.

26th November

Battle of Cambrai: Tank advance; many drivers having been trained by William George Blake of Swindon. Massive casualties for the Tank Corps and for infantry too; including STFC forward and England amateur international, Freddie Wheatcroft, and STFC reserve goalkeeper and Swindon Corinthians stopper, Reginald Menham.

There is a tribute to Lieutenant Wheatcroft (13th East Surrey Regiment): ‘He played the game for his Town and he also played the game for his country and in the greatest of all duels, he fought for his country and, along with countless thousands, paid the Supreme Sacrifice.’

If you want to find the old battalion,
I know where they are, I know where they are, I know where they are
If you want to find the old battalion, I know where they are,
They’re hanging on the old barbed wire,
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.

9th December

The first troops to enter Jerusalem in the war against Turkey include gunners from Swindon.

‘Towards Christmas margarine assumed an importance it had never before had in Swindon; butter was so scarce as to be practically unobtainable and the public had to fall back upon margarine … ‘

26th December

Charles Roberts, RFC, KIA in Italy.

Billy Kirby, STFC, KIA Boczinge, Belgium, nicknamed ‘Sunny Jim’.
650 men attend the Boxing Day party at the Soldiers’ Rest ‘and spent what they said was the finest time they had had since joining the forces.’

1918

‘The first Sunday in January, 1918, was a meatless day in many households in Swindon’ – butchers pretty well sold out on the Saturday and closed early.

January 15th

The Mayor asks that people reduce their meat consumption by a half, and that office workers by even more if possible so that manual workers benefit.

29th January

All Swindon homes now have to use a ration card: ‘In order to avoid queues and to ensure an equitable distribution … the Food Control Committee have decided to bring a Rationing Scheme into operation at once … You are to state on this card the number of persons living in your house, including lodgers or boarders … ‘
Town Hall 29 January 1918

18th March

‘Dear Miss Handley … I wish to thank you for and the committee for the great kindness you all have shown to me during the time I have been in Germany. If it was not for the parcels you sent to me…. I think I would have been starved to death … ‘

21st March

‘As expected, the Germans began their attack at 4 a.m. on March 21st’ – our Wiltshire troops ‘were surrounded and hopelessly situated; permission to break through was therefore given to those who could get back … ‘: 200 men of Swindon taken prisoner in this, the Second Battle of the Somme; only thirty of the Wiltshires will make it back.

If you want to find the old battalion,
I know where they are, I know where they are, I know where they are
If you want to find the old battalion, I know where they are,
They’re hanging on the old barbed wire,
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.

Spring

Alarm at the German offensive: military age raised to 50, and the medical examination standards lowered. Men have to travel to Trowbridge for their examination – including, ‘a man with a wooden leg, one who was stone-deaf, and an imbecile’.

Royal Engineers, in the wake of the German offensive, construct the ‘Swindon Trench’; the bridge deemed to be so similar to back home, it is named the ‘Golden Lion Bridge’.

Easter

Pubs start to run out of beer and close: ‘Closed, no beer: God save the King.’ Similar, if less ‘flamboyant’ and ‘ambiguous’ notices continued to be posted through the spring and summer. There will also be a shortage of whiskey and brandy for medicinal purposes, such as treating invalids and victims of the influenza epidemic. A medical certificate will be needed for purchase.

Andrew Bonar Law, Chancellor of the Exchequer in Lloyd George’s coalition War Cabinet, to the mayor: ‘I know I can depend on your doing your utmost. Every War Bond bought this week will show Germany to what extent we are in earnest.’

May

‘Julian’, the 30 ton tank, arrives in Swindon, with bands of pipers, preceded by leaflets

DROPPED FROM A BRITISH AEROPLANE
“Go to the tank and buy British Bonds Certificates, for EVERY PENNY lent to your country shortens the War, and brings an Honourable Peace near.”
LET SWINDON LEAD!

Julian makes his way to the town hall, dramatically crunching its way through barbed wire and over high banks of sandbags.
Speeches from the vicar of Swindon; songs and music; throngs of children gather …

July

‘The Director of National Salvage announces that fruit-stones, including date-stones and hard nut-shells, are immediately required for an urgent war-purpose, and it is desired that these should all be carefully collected in Swindon and forwarded weekly.’ (These were used for the production of charcoal, which was used in the process of making respirators for protection against gas attack.)

8th August

Allied counter-offensive at Amiens. Tide turns, but Swindon fallen: Sid Philips, Walter Gee, Frederick Balch, Bennett Newman.

“Good-morning, good-morning!” the General said
When we met him last week on our way to the line.
Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of ’em dead,
And we’re cursing his staff for incompetent swine.
“He’s a cheery old card,” grunted Harry to Jack
As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

But he did for them both by his plan of attack.

28th September

The Labour Exchange is transferred to new premises in Regent Street (what had been numbers 43, 44 and 45).

Workers at the GWR urge trade unions to take action against profiteering over food prices (‘no further increases on the prices of essential commodities will be tolerated’). Strikes are hinted at, if needed (‘this meeting pledges itself to take whatever action is necessary, no matter how drastic’). Within a week, a mass procession follows (10,000) with brass bands in a march to the town hall.

11th November

Schools closed for celebration at 2pm. Streets fill with delighted crowds with music and flags and ribbons and with varied spontaneous processions; streets are lit; church bells ring; services are held: ‘O clap your hands, all ye people, shout unto God with the voice of triumph’.
Haig receives many telegrams today, including one from Swindon’s mayor: ‘… I desire on behalf of the inhabitants of Swindon respectfully to tender you our warmest thanks for the magnificent services you have rendered to the Empire … We tender our like appreciation and thanks to all the officers and men under your command. We beg also to assure you of our most heartfelt and lasting gratitude.’

‘Mayor, Swindon, – All officers and men under my command join with me in sending their grateful thanks to you and the inhabitants of Swindon for your message of welcome and generous appreciation.’

I wore a tunic, a dirty khaki tunic,
And you wore your civvy clothes,
We fought and bled at Loos,
While you were on the booze,
The booze that no one here knows.
You were out with the wenches,
While we were in the trenches,
Facing an angry foe,
Oh, you were a-slacking, while we were attacking
the Germans on the Menin Road.

November

‘That this conference of representative residents of Swindon, believe the good housing of the people to be an urgent social reform, demands that the Government … compel local authorities to provide adequate housing schemes … no private enterprise shall receive public money for such a purpose.’

Chiseldon Camp becomes a demobilization camp: ‘it was a frequent occurrence to meet batches of war-worn soldiers, loaded with their kit, often caked in mud, and carrying home their steel helmets as souvenirs; they were in the highest spirits as they tramped from Old Town to New Town Station, and it was often an inspiring sight to see the loaded trains departing from the GWR Station, when no discomforts of over-crowding could damp the spirits of the men bound for home.’

‘Coate Road has long been a favourite promenade for the youth of the town on a Sunday afternoon; during the war it had become little more than a feminine parade, but now it began to resume its former status as the recognized meeting-place of the youth of both sexes arrayed in their best plumage.’

19th December

‘Please accept my best thanks for your great kindness in thinking of me this Christmas by way of gift. I’m very proud of it, and have shown it around to my chums here to let them see that a Tommy is not easily forgotten down Swindon way. When one remembers the good times we had at Stratton … I know the best time I had in the Army was at Stratton, and I honestly think it was worth while being wounded for …’

And when they ask us, how dangerous it was,
Oh, we’ll never tell them, no, we’ll never tell them:
We spent our pay in some cafe,
And fought wild women night and day,
‘Twas the cushiest job we ever had.

And when they ask us, and they’re certainly going to ask us,
The reason why we didn’t win the Croix de Guerre,
Oh, we’ll never tell them, oh, we’ll never tell them
There was a front, but damned if we knew where.

The Comforts of the Wiltshire Regiment: the war years saw the following sent from Swindon to the depot at Devizes;
4,463 pairs of socks; 1,408 pairs of mittens; 901 knee-caps; 2,373 scarves; 758 helmets; 238 belts;

When this lousy war is over,
No more soldiering for me,
When I get my civvy clothes on,
Oh, how happy I shall be!
No more church parades on Sunday,
No more putting in for leave,
I shall kiss the sergeant-major,
How I’ll miss him, how he’ll grieve!
Amen.

They were summoned from the hillside,
They were called in from the glen,
And the country found them ready
At the stirring call for men.
Let no tears add to their hardship,
As the soldiers pass along,
And although your heart is breaking
Make it sing this cheery song:

Keep the home fires burning
While your hearts are yearning,
Though the lads are far away,
They dream of home.
There’s a silver lining,
Through the dark clouds shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out,
Till the boys come home.

1919

June 28th

Treaty of Versailles signed. Spontaneous celebrations – but they do not rival those of Armistice Day, despite ‘youthful folly’, causing ‘much alarm here and there by letting off squibs and crackers in the thronged streets’.

Sunday 6th July

‘Peace Sunday’ – churches and chapels with, ‘in many cases’, ‘crowded congregations’.

Saturday and Sunday two weeks later:

Celebratory events and memorial services and gifts of tobacco for demobilized soldiers; sports events at the County Ground; free shows, film concerts, dinners; 10,000 at the service in the GWR Park on the Sunday:
‘Let us remember before God the brave and the true who have died by death of Honour, and have departed into the Resurrection of Eternal Life,
especially those men who from this town have fallen in the War.’

They were summoned from the hillside,
They were called in from the glen,
And the country found them ready
At the stirring call for men.
Let no tears add to their hardship,
As the soldiers pass along,
And although your heart is breaking
Make it sing this cheery song:

Keep the home fires burning
While your hearts are yearning,
Though the lads are far away,
They dream of home.
There’s a silver lining,
Through the dark clouds shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out,
Till the boys come home.

To His Most Gracious Majesty the King

The inhabitants of the Borough of Swindon humbly tender their loyal duty and devotion … We desire to rejoice with Your Majesties in the glorious victory … MAYOR, Swindon’
‘I am commanded to thank you for your loyal greetings on behalf of the inhabitants of Swindon – Private Secretary’

Monday 21st July

Massive crowd at the GWR Park with the children of the town marching in procession (11,000 children present, many with a cup or mug in hand): ‘It is hard to picture the appearance of Swindon … on that afternoon; all the main thoroughfares were lined with dense throngs … and from all quarters of the town gay processions of children were converging on the Park … the sight of this multitude of children, seated in sections on heavy planks lent by the GWR Company was a delightful spectacle …’

But despite the displays and tableaux such as ‘Victory, with Peace greeting Britannia’, there was discord and disorder and rioting …

An impressively expensive town council flag pole – ‘The Peace Flag’ – burned by demobilized soldiers and supporters. They carry the smouldering pole along Regent Street and then Bridge Street, singing in unison as they march: ‘Old soldiers never die, They only fade away.’ Thousands involved in ‘The Swindon Riots’ that carry on in desultory fashion (many windows smashed, including some at the Labour Exchange; two shops looted) for a few days until a heavy force of the Old Bill wield their truncheons – ‘in the early hours of Wednesday morning the police were forced to use their batons in repelling an ugly rush made upon them in Bridge Street’. The Mayor asks for a voluntary curfew; trade unions disassociate themselves from the riots (despite the view of some national newspapers); local trade unions say they will investigate the grievances of ex-servicemen; the Mayor addresses them at the Princes Street Recreation Ground; ex-servicemen form pickets to deter rioters. It ends – but is a reminder that ‘coming events cast shadows before’.

When this lousy war is over,
No more soldiering for me,
When I get my civvy clothes on,
Oh, how happy I shall be!
No more church parades on Sunday,
No more putting in for leave,
I shall kiss the sergeant-major,
How I’ll miss him, how he’ll grieve!
Amen.

Trouble at Chiseldon Camp too:
Anger at the speed of demobilization, together with the influence of mutinies in the army, spreads to Chiseldon.
Lord Dunalley’s response: ‘There are Lewis guns in position commanding every street. My signal on the telephone and they open fire. Ten seconds to get to your huts.’

I want to go home, I want to go home.
I don’t want to go in the trenches no more,
Where whizzbangs and shrapnel they whistle and roar.
Take me over the see, where the Alleyman can’t get at me.
Oh my, I don’t want to die, I want to go home.
I want to go home, I want to go home.

Saturday October 30th, 1920

After several months and meetings, the Cenotaph was unveiled, standing where the Fountain used to stand and where a wooden model of a cenotaph had stood for some while, always adorned with flowers left by those who mourned their lost, loved ones. The gathered crowd sang a hymn, ‘ How bright these glorious spirits shine’, followed by the laying of a wreath and the bugles sounding ‘The Last Post’. The audience then sang ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee’. Prayers followed before,‘ For all the saints who from their labours rest’, and then the laying of more wreaths and the National Anthem to close the half an hour service.

Silence prevailed everywhere, with shops and businesses closed during the service. All the streets leading to the Town Hall were full of people coming to pay their respects. ‘The day may come in an enlarged and embellished Swindon, many memorials may adorn her streets, but none will be founded so deeply in the sorrows and veneration of her citizens.’

After professional football had been suspended, amateurs represented STFC during the war. A meeting on June 4th 1919 showed a healthy balance sheet, while the Chairman of Directors paid tribute ‘to the memory of the four players whom the Club had lost during the war and also of one brilliant young amateur who had rendered good service … Messrs. Bathe, Brewer, Milton and Wheatcroft, and along with them Mr. Harold Warren … awarded the Military Medal only two months before he was carried off with influenza … Mr. White hoped the Club would show the reverence and gratitude due to these gallant five by some tangible memorial, and it was generally felt that a brass tablet should be placed in the dressing-room at the County Ground …’

Postscript
Other STFC players from WW1:

Bertie Arman,
222 Field Company, Royal Engineers, boilermaker, STFC 1915, d. 31st October 1972

Tommy Bolland,
440 Squadron, Royal Artillery, STFC 1909 – 15 and 1919-21, d. 3rd January 1967

Bertie Denyer
Royal Fusiliers, STFC, 1914-15 and 1919-30, d. 15th March 1969

Charlie Giles
Lance Corporal, 2nd Battalion, Wiltshire Regiment, STFC 1912-14,
injured Battle of Aisne, September 1914, d. 28th March 1964

Jack Lee
Lance Corporal, Royal Engineers, STFC 1910-15, d. 1951

Matty Lochead,
Enlisted 1915, STFC 1909-15, 191-20, d.1964

George Maunders
Royal Veterinary Corps, STFC 1912-16, d.1935

Dave Rogers
Gunner, Royal Field Artillery, went to France September 1914,
STFC 1913-14, 1919-26, d. 1975

‘Bert’ (Harry) Warman, Sergeant, Wiltshire Regiment, STFC 1905-10, d. 1955

Sources used:
Swindon’s War Record W. D. Bavin Hobnob Press (facsimile reprint) 2018
Swindon Remembering 1914-18 Mike Pringle The History Press 2014
Swindon Town 1895-2015 Paul Plowman Footprint Publication 2015
Swindon Town 1879-2009 Paul Plowman Footprint Publication 2009
Swindon Town On This Day Andrew Hawes Pitch Publishing 2010
And finally, two letters from my brother-in-law, Rod Smith:

Sat 19th May ‘18

Dear Stu,
Hope you will be able to make sense of the enclosed photos. To spped things up, I took photos of photos already in my album and these you will be able to trim to suit your requirements. The others were spares I already had in hand. The ones at Preshute and St Katherine’s are in beautiful settings.

Regarding the grave of William Gosling V.C. at Wroughton, I think he was a sergeant in the Royal Artillery during WW1 and was awarded the V.C. after saving his men by picking up and throwing out a bomb which had landed amongst them …

Good luck with the project …
Rod

Mon 21st May ‘18

Dear Stu,
You asked for comments on War Memorials to go with the photos and the best I can do is offer my thoughts on what they mean to me.

Often when roaming the hills I pass through or end up at fairly remote villages and without fail each one has its own memorial to men and boys who lost their lives in WW1. What touches me is the thought of the heartache each one represented and in some villages the same surname occurs several times indicating that some families lost all their loved ones in that terrible war.

Sometimes the memorials are set in the most idyllic spots which makes it all the more sobering and shows how far reaching were the tentacles of war.

What you might like to use as related interest is the story of my own Great Uncle Alfred Child, a Swindon man serving with the 2nd Wiltshires who died on the Somme aged 21 in October 1916.

My mother, then a little girl of 7 years old came down to breakfast one morning to find her Mother in tears. When asking what was wrong she was told ‘the wicked Germans have killed poor Uncle Alf’.

The memorials show us that tragic little scenes like that were happening day after day in those dark days.

Regards,
Rod

1914-1918: And Now For The Final Cost:
These figures show 2014 research into the number of players at the clubs below who lost their lives in the Great War. This may not yet be the Final Cost. There is also an interesting postscript.

Arsenal 3 Aston Villa 1
Barnsley 4 Blackburn Rovers 2
Birmingham City 2 Blackpool 3
Bolton Wanderers 1 Bradford City 9
Derby County 6 Brentford 7
Brighton and Hove Albion 5 Bristol City 5
Bristol Rovers 3 Bury 7
Burnley 5 Cardiff City 0
Chelsea 6 Clapton Orient 4
Coventry City 6 Crystal Palace 4
Bradford Park Avenue 2 Everton 7
Exeter City 6 Fulham 0
Grimsby Town 1 Huddersfield Town 5
Hull City 4 Liverpool 6
Luton Town 3 Manchester City 9
Manchester United 8 Middlesborough 7
Millwall 5 Newcastle United 9
Newport County 1 Northampton Town 1
Norwich City 6 Nottingham Forest 2
Notts County 2 Oldham Athletic 0
Plymouth Argyle 7 Portsmouth 0
Preston North End 10 Queens Park Rangers 0
Reading 9 Sheffield United 2
Southampton 4 Southend United 10
Stockport County 9 Stoke City 0
Sunderland 0 Swansea 0
Forest Green Rovers 3 Swindon Town 6
Sheffield Wednesday 3 West Bromwich Albion 2
West Ham United 7 Wolverhampton Wanderers 0
Watford 3 Tottenham Hotspur 14

Postscript

With thanks to the Pearce Register of WW1 Conscientious Objectors, compiled by Cyril Pearce.

There are two footballers in the National Register of Conscientious Objectors:
Norman Gaudie, who played for Sunderland. Gaudie was among the men who were imprisoned in Richmond Castle and then shipped to France and sentenced to death before being returned to the UK.

Fred ‘Tiny’ Fayers who played for Huddersfield Town.

They were summoned from the hillside,
They were called in from the glen,
And the country found them ready
At the stirring call for men.
Let no tears add to their hardship,
As the soldiers pass along,
And although your heart is breaking
Make it sing this cheery song:
Keep the home fires burning
While your hearts are yearning,
Though the lads are far away,
They dream of home.
There’s a silver lining,
Through the dark clouds shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out,
Till the boys come home.

1914 August

“On it becoming known that the mobilisation of the Territorial Forces was expected great excitement prevailed in Stroud. Holiday makers gathered in groups round the Post Office…Until a late hour on Wednesday the streets of Stroud continued in an animated state, groups of people gathering in the busier parts of the town, eagerly discussing the latest news. The evening papers were snatched up as soon as they were on the streets.”

September 4th: “Mid-Gloucestershire, which a week ago seemed woefully apathetic, is now revealing its patriotism… Stonehouse reported 23 recruits on Friday night; Cainscross caused us a shiver of apprehension on Saturday by merely offering three men, but in justice to that parish it should be stated that in addition to the considerable number of gallant men already serving in both Army and Navy, some 40 or 50 recruits have been enrolled from the Cainscross area since the meeting; Painswick gave us 30 on Sunday; Amberley responded finely on Monday with 40 patriotic offers; and on Tuesday Minchinhampton beat all previous records with 45 recruits…Stroud has another chance on Saturday night, and although we believe considerable numbers have enlisted without the stimulant of a public meeting, one has only to look round to see that the recruiting force here is hardly tapped.”

The Army and the Navy need attention,
The outlook isn’t healthy you’ll admit,
But I’ve got a perfect dream of a new recruiting scheme,
Which I think is absolutely it.
If only other girls would do as I do
I believe that we could manage it alone,
For I turn all suitors from me but the sailor and the Tommy,
I’ve an army and a navy of my own.
On Sunday I walk out with a Soldier,
On Monday I’m taken by a Tar,
On Tuesday I’m out with a baby Boy Scout,
On Wednesday a Hussar;
On Thursday I go out with a Stroudie,
On Friday, the Captain of the crew;
But on Saturday I’m willing, if you’ll only take the shilling,
To make a man of any one of you.
I teach the tenderfoot to face the powder,
That gives an added lustre to my skin,
And I show the raw recruit how to give a chaste salute,
So when I’m presenting arms he’s falling in.
It makes you almost proud to be a woman.
When you make a strapping soldier of a kid.
And he says ‘You put me through it and I didn’t want to do it
But you went and made me love you so I did.’
On Sunday I walk out with a Bo’sun.
On Monday a Rifleman in green,
On Tuesday I choose a ‘sub’ in the ‘Blues’,
On Wednesday a Marine;
On Thursday a Terrier from Toadsmoor,
On Friday a Midshipman or two,
But on Saturday I’m willing, if you’ll only take the shilling,
To make a man of any one of you.

 “While there is supreme confidence among English people that by the time another Christmas season is with us the great war will have come to an end satisfactory to their country and allies, this supreme confidence cannot at present be magnified into a conviction of certainty…Mr. Geo. J. Holloway sent a Christmas gift to the Gloucestershire Regiment fighting at the front, consisting of 100 packs of playing cards and 10,000 cigarettes. Each packet contained 10 cigarettes and was stamped with the message ‘Good Luck.’”

Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,
And smile, smile, smile,
While you’ve a Lucifer to light your fag,
Smile, boys, that’s the style.
What’s the use of worrying?
It never was worthwhile, so
Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,
And smile, smile, smile.

1915

 February 19th: “While the increased cost of living has reduced the spending powers of wage-earners…it is a matter for profound gratification that so far there has been very little acute distress and a very low average of unemployment. This we attribute before to the excellent response to Lord Kitchener’s appeal on the part of the young men of the district, thus relieving many firms of the necessity of curtailing their staffs, but another and even greater cause is the amount of work being done at local mills and factories.”

Sister Susie’s sewing shirts for soldiers,
Such skill at sewing shirts our shy young sister Susie shows!
Some soldiers send epistles, say they’d rather sleep in thistles
Than the saucy soft short shirts for soldiers sister Susie sews.

April 23rd: “The recruiting campaign organised in the Mid-Gloucestershire Division during this week by a visit of the drum and fife band and Recruiting Party of the… Gloucesters to the various towns and villages was carried out with fairly satisfactory results…The enthusiasm in Stroud was stirred to its highest …At the close of the day about 25 eligible young men were obtained for service.”

June 18th. “Probably there is not a single parish in Mid-Gloucestershire which remains untouched by the casualties of war. Every week that passes adds to the lengthening ‘Roll of Honour,’ and the toll of death goes on.  It is this inevitable phase of war that is bringing its effects home to many who otherwise might regard it lightly. We cannot even approximately estimate the death-roll of Mid-Gloucestershire men, but we shall not be over-stating the total if we say it already exceeds three figures, while several hundred have been wounded more or less severely. Nevertheless, in spite, or perhaps, because of these losses, we know it is the grim resolution to carry on the war until the brutal Germans are beaten and crushed is even stronger to-day than it was ten months ago.”

If you want to find the old battalion,
I know where they are, I know where they are, I know where they are
If you want to find the old battalion, I know where they are,
They’re hanging on the old barbed wire,
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.

August 20th. “The casualty lists issued this week showed that the 7th Gloucesters – the first battalion of Kitchener’s Army raised in the county, and containing a large percentage of the August recruits from this district – were in the thick of the fighting on the Gallipoli peninsular during the previous week-end.”

We’ve watched you playing cricket and every kind of game,
At football, golf and polo you men have made your name.
But now your country calls you to play your part in war.
And no matter what befalls you
We shall love you all the more.
So come and join the forces
As your fathers did before.
Oh, we don’t want to lose you but we think you ought to go.
For your King and your country both need you so.
We shall want you and miss you
But with all our might and main
We shall cheer you, thank you, bless you
When you come home again.

October 22nd: “Evidence of the inevitable waning of the recruiting boom was forthcoming when, after a ‘largely attended recruiting meeting’ held outside the George Hotel, Stroud, at which the Band of the 1st Gloucesters played selections of music, ‘one man – an old soldier – stepped out of the crowd and offered himself amidst cheers.’’

I don’t want to be a soldier,
I don’t want to go to war,
I’d rather stay at home,
Around the streets to roam,
And live on the earnings of a lady typist.
I don’t want a bayonet in my belly,
I don’t want my shoulders shot away,
I’d rather stay in England,
In merry, merry England,
And eat and drink my drunken life away.

December 31st: “ Hopes that were high last New Year’s Eve have been brought down to the dust of realities…We have learned that there can be no such thing as an easy victory; the price must be paid to the full.”

1916

January 28th: “It is an encouraging sign that Mrs. Hudson Lyall’s lecture on ‘How Women can help to Win the War’ should have been so well attended last night…The part that women have taken in the war has, we believe, done more good for the cause of female suffrage than the hysterical demonstrations of militant suffragists did harm in the days before the war.’

February 4th: “Stroud has, within the last week or two, been able to form a fairly comprehensive idea of what is meant by the ‘mud of Flanders.’ The arrival on short leave of men ‘straight from the trenches’ has been an enlightening event, for never in all the town’s history have muddier men been seen in Stroud. Several recent arrivals have reached the local railway station literally encrusted in Flanders mud. From the crown of their heads to the soles of their well-shod feet they have been plastered with mud, but that has had no apparent effect on their vigorous health or buoyant spirits.”

Bombed last night, and bombed the night before.
Going to get bombed tonight if we never get bombed anymore.
When we’re bombed, we’re scared as we can be.
Can’t stop the bombing from old Higher Germany.
They’re warning us, they’re warning us.
One shell hole for just the four of us.
Thank your lucky stars there are no more of us.
So one of us can fill it all alone.
Gassed last night, and gassed the night before.
Going to get gassed tonight if we never get gassed anymore.
When we’re gassed, we’re sick as we can be.
For phosgene and mustard gas is much too much for me.
They’re killing us, they’re killing us.
One respirator for the four of us.
Thank your lucky stars that we can all run fast.
So one of us can take it all alone.

February 18th: “The lighting of Stroud is now sensibly diminished, and although we do not assume that the town could be completely hidden from the glasses of an airship observer, the identification of distinctive buildings is certainly an impossibility.”

Hush, here comes a Whizzbang.
Hush, here comes a Whizzbang.
Now you soldiermen get down those stairs,
Down in your dugouts and say your prayers.
Hush, here comes a Whizzbang,
And it’s making right for you.
And you’ll see all the wonders of No-Man’s-Land,
If a Whizzbang, hits you.
June 30th: “We are glad to see the Military Representative at the Nailsworth Tribunal did not oppose the appeal of an applicant who was the father of seven young children. In the earlier days there was very little discrimination shown with regard to the enlistment of fathers of large families. One clear example was that of a Stroud man, the father of ten young children, who volunteered, and was accepted for general service. The separation allowances in his case amount to an unnecessarily costly total, and in the event of his death no fewer than eleven dependents would be cast on the State.”
Up to your waist in water, up to your eyes in slush,
using the kind of language that makes the sergeant blush,
Who wouldn’t join the army? That’s what we all enquire.
Don’t we pity the poor civilian sitting by the fire.
(Chorus)
Oh, oh, oh it’s a lovely war.
Who wouldn’t be a soldier, eh? Oh it’s a shame to take the pay.
As soon as reveille has gone we feel just as heavy as lead,
but we never get up till the sergeant brings our breakfast up to bed.
Oh, oh, oh, it’s a lovely war.
what do we want with eggs and ham when we’ve got plum and apple jam?
Form fours. Right turn. How shall we spend the money we earn?
Oh, oh, oh it’s a lovely war.
When does a soldier grumble? When does he make a fuss?
No one is more contented in all the world than us.
Oh it’s a cushy life, boys, really we love it so:
Once a fellow was sent on leave and simply refused to go.
(Chorus)
Come to the cookhouse door, boys, sniff the lovely stew.
Who is it says the colonel gets better grub than you?
Any complaints this morning? Do we complain? Not we.
What’s the matter with lumps of onion floating around the tea?
(Chorus)

July 14th: “In the Stroud district many homes are in mourning. In such a war as this it is inevitable that war should reap a great harvest. But in every home – in every house and cottage from which a brave man has gone never to return – there is the same brave recognition of the necessity of the sacrifice, and the same unwavering faith in the cause for which these gallant men have yielded their lives.”

All night long I hear you calling,
Calling sweet and low;
Seem to hear your footsteps falling,
Ev’ry where I go.
Tho’ the road between us stretches
Many a weary mile,
I forget that you’re not with me yet
When I think I see you smile.
Chorus:
There’s a long, long trail a-winding
Into the land of my dreams,
Where the nightingales are singing
And a white moon beams.
There’s a long, long night of waiting
Until my dreams all come true;
Till the day when I’ll be going down
That long, long trail with you.

October 20th: “The Somme pictures proved to be the greatest cinema attraction ever presented to the public of the Stroud district, and we congratulate the management of the Empire Theatre on securing the wonderful film for their patrons…The pictures gave us some little conception of the tremendous amount of energy expended in this one theatre of the war. They gave us, too, some faint inkling of the immense and tragic waste of war: the blasted land, the material wreckage, the broken men and the irrecoverable lives. Their effect was saddening and at the same time inspiring…The half-demented German prisoners aroused sentiments not of derision but of pity…But the dominant impression was that of the bouyancy of our own incomparable men. Surely in all the tragic history of war a more light-hearted, high-spirited and fearless army has never marched into the zone of death and pain? The incalculable debt we owe to these heroes can never be liquidated: for all time the race will be their debtor. No words could record so convincingly as these pictures of actual war scenes the splendid spirit of Britain’s fighting men.”

The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling,
For you but not for me,
And the little devils how they sing-a-ling-a-ling,
For you but not for me.
Oh death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling,
Oh grave, thy victory?
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me.

1917

May 11th: “The King’s Proclamation exhorting the public to practice food economy was read in all of the churches and chapels throughout Stroud and district on Sunday, the 6th inst. The Vicar of Holy Trinity delivered a special sermon on the subject.”

June 8th: “The ceremony of the consecration of the Wayside Cross at Woodchester was held on Sunday evening…The Stroud and Nailsworth Companies of the Volunteers formed a guard of honour. To a very large congregation gathered in the field below the Monastery, the Rev. Father Hugh Pope explained that it was intended to inscribe on the base of the Cross the names of fallen soldiers and sailors of the district.”

August 10th: “The third anniversary of the British declaration of war against Germany was fittingly observed in Stroud by the public meeting held in King Street Parade on Saturday evening…A large crowd assembled to hear the patriotic speeches…War-weariness, especially among those who have to make the greater sacrifices and who reap none of the profits arising from this ruinous struggle, has necessarily to be fought with resolution, and undoubtedly the speeches at last Saturday’s meeting had a stimulating effect on those who perhaps were growing a little weary of the exactions of war…The pageant and fete organised by munition workers of the Stroud district was held on August Bank Holiday at Fromehall Park. Nearly 200 persons took part in a fancy dress parade from King Street to the Park, and very large crowds watched the procession and attended the fete. The Lightpill Works won the first prize for a decorated lorry with a representation of “John Bull and the Allies.”

If you want to find the old battalion,
I know where they are, I know where they are, I know where they are
If you want to find the old battalion, I know where they are,
They’re hanging on the old barbed wire,
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.
I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.

August 17th: “The Gloucesters have been in action recently in Flanders, and a number of casualties to local men are reported. It is some time since the battalion to which many Mid-Gloucestershire men are attached have been engaged in heavy fighting and until the present offensive move we have, fortunately, not been called upon to report an excessive number of casualties. But this comparative immunity could hardly, considering the attritive character of modern fighting, be expected to continue, and the present offensive is exacting a toll of Mid-Gloucestershire men which will, we fear, bring mourning and anxiety to many homes.

September 7th: “A great recruiting rally in connection with the 4th Battalion Gloucestershire Volunteer Regiment was held at Stroud on Thursday evening. Officers and men of the Stroud Company marched through the town, captured German guns and trench mortars figuring in the procession. A meeting was subsequently held in King Parade, a number of speeches being made. About 20 recruits were obtained.

September 14th: “Following an unusually cold spring and a wet summer the chances of a fine autumn this year are correspondingly greater. A fine September and October will have an incalculable effect on the Allied campaign on the Western Front. The awful conditions in Flanders during August did more to save the crumbling German line than all Hindenburg’s massed guns and machine-gun emplacements, and 80 per cent. of our casualties (which were very heavy during July and August) were primarily due to the awful mud and swamps that made progress absolutely impossible on many parts of the French front.”

(Tune: ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’)
Forward Joe Soap’s army, marching without fear,
With our old commander, safely in the rear.
He boasts and skites from morn till night,
And thinks he’s very brave,
But the men who really did the job are dead and in their grave.
Forward Joe Soap’s army, marching without fear,
With our old commander, safely in the rear.

Amen.

November 16th: “The flotsam and jetsam of the battlefield may be seen in every county in England…The wounded and stricken men who come to the various hospitals of Mid-Gloucestershire are just as well cared for as those who led the van three years ago. The lavish feting of convalescent men has necessarily undergone considerable restriction in these days of comparative scarcity, but we think the medical and nursing staffs will agree with us that the general health of these patients has not suffered in consequence.”
December 7th: “A war memorial which took the form of a fountain and water supply, was presented to the village of Oakridge.”

December 21st: “For the fourth occasion since the Kaiser plunged Europe into the cauldron of the most bloody war in all history, we have reached the threshold of Christmastide…There will be little of the pre-war feasting in patriotic homes during Christmastide this year. It should be the aim of each one of us to celebrate the festival as frugally as possible, remembering the heavy toll exacted week by week on the country’s shipping…By this time next year the war will be over, and whether its end is sealed with the success of the Allied cause depends largely on Britain’s part during the next six months…

Whiter than the whitewash on the wall!
Whiter than the whitewash on the wall!
Oh wash me in the water that you wash your dirty daughter in,
So that I can be whiter than the whitewash on the wall!
On the wall, on the wall, On the wall, on the wall,
Oh wash me in the water that you wash your dirty daughter in,
So that I can be whiter than the whitewash on the wall!

1918

April 5th: “The most tragic Eastertide, not only within memory of the oldest inhabitant of the Stroud district, but in all the centuries of recorded history, has come and gone, but few of us, during its passing, have not had our thoughts mainly centred on the blood-soaked fields of France, where the greatest battle of all time is being fought, the results of which will be indelibly stamped on the world’s history for a thousand years…the supreme phase of the German effort to beat down and dominate the civilised world…In view of the very heavy casualties which must inevitably result from the costly fighting of the past fortnight we are afraid many local homes will have to mourn the loss of near and dear ones…

I wore a tunic, a dirty khaki tunic,
And you wore your civvy clothes,
We fought and bled at Loos,
While you were on the booze,
The booze that no one here knows.
You were out with the wenches,
While we were in the trenches,
Facing an angry foe,
Oh, you were a-slacking, while we were attacking
the Germans on the Menin Road.

April 19th: “It is difficult to write of events in France in these difficult days, when events might transform everything in the course of a few hours, but whatever course the vast struggle takes, whether it be to our advantage or disadvantage, one cannot refrain from expressing the confident hope that the heroic endurance, and self-sacrifice, and courage of our troops will have an inspiring sequel in the defeat of an exhausted enemy. We know that the toll of casualties is very heavy – and from the Stroud district alone we fear the list will prove a lengthy one – but we also know that the Germans have suffered losses incomparably greater…

May 31st: “The war has not brought many changes to the Stroud district. Were it not for the recurrent drone of the aeroplane and the occasional sight of motor lorries we should have very few visual reminders of the long-drawn out struggle across the Channel, save, of course, for the presence of the wounded soldiers at the local Red Cross hospitals. But if we penetrate a little beneath the exterior it is easy to see how the war has entered practically every home. The Stroud district has given freely of its manhood…and has mourned the loss of many a gallant son, or brother, or husband since the call to arms…But it is “carrying on” and its women are proving themselves worthy of their race. Their record of ‘war-work’ is one on which they might look back with pride and satisfaction when the longed-for ‘peace with honour’ arrives.”

June 28th: “It was stated that the hamlet of Nag’s Head, near Avening, had sent 17 men to fight for their country. There were only 18 houses in the hamlet.”

August 9th: “The heartening news of the second German retreat from the Marne last Saturday made an appropriate complement to the local commemoration services in connection with the anniversary of the declaration of war. But it was significant that all the sermons preached throughout the Stroud district were restrained rather than triumphant…”

August 30th: “It was reported that Corpl. W. Latham, Duke of Cornwall’s L.I., son of the late Mr. W. Latham, of Watledge, Nailsworth, had died in Germany from “sepsis, following a shattered thigh, while a prisoner of war in Germany.”

September 6th: …Lieut. Clifford Downing, of the Gloucesters, had a near shave during the German push in March…He was left with his platoon to cover a bridge-head…Then as he got up to go after the platoon had passed over, a machine gun bullet went through both thighs and temporarily paralysed him. He could not walk, nor could he stand to get on the back of his servant. The Germans were only 200 yards away. His servant, however, discovered a wheelbarrow in a cottage close by, placed him in and wheeled him over…It says a good deal for the British Army that although eleven officers of the Battalion were wounded and missing that day, in all cases their servants stuck to them to the end.”

And when they ask us, how dangerous it was,
Oh, we’ll never tell them, no, we’ll never tell them:
We spent our pay in some cafe,
And fought wild women night and day,
‘Twas the cushiest job we ever had.
And when they ask us, and they’re certainly going to ask us,
The reason why we didn’t win the Croix de Guerre,
Oh, we’ll never tell them, oh, we’ll never tell them
There was a front, but damned if we knew where.

October 4th: “The heartening war news of this week has not led to any demonstrations of the ‘Joy Bells’ category in the Stroud district, but it has nevertheless inspired a feeling of satisfaction and relief which in its depth has not been reached since the war began…How splendid a part is being played by the British soldier in this overthrow of a mighty enemy the Nation hardly realises in its broad entirety. But it is shown in the changing colours of the map of Europe and Asia. It is a very proud day for the British Empire.”
I want to go home, I want to go home.

I don’t want to go in the trenches no more,
Where whizzbangs and shrapnel they whistle and roar.
Take me over the see, where the Alleyman can’t get at me.
Oh my, I don’t want to die, I want to go home.
I want to go home, I want to go home.
I don’t want to visit la Belle France no more,
For oh the Jack Johnsons they make such a roar.
Take me over the sea, where the snipers they can’t get at me.
Oh my, I don’t want to die, I want to go home.

October 18th: “We appear to be moving swiftly towards the peace which for four long years we have, through supreme sacrifice and unfaltering resolution been seeking. But it is not the peace which the Kaiser had planned. It is not even the peace which his accommodating Ministers had in view when they appealed to President Wilson.”

“Shortly before 11 a.m. on Monday, November 11th, the following official bulletin was posted outside the “Stroud News” Office: The Armistice was signed at 5 o’clock this morning, and hostilities are to cease on all Fronts at 11 a.m. today.’
On the stroke of 11 the bell at Messrs. Holloway’s factory clanged forth, the syrens at the local mills were sounded, and within an incredibly short time the streets were filled with excited citizens and bright-faced children. It was fitting that so soon after the news of the cessation of hostilities became known in Stroud a public service of thanksgiving was held in the Parish Church, and was attended by a congregation representative of all classes and religious denominations. The display of flags and bunting throughout the whole district gave a joyous touch to the demonstrations … The street scenes have been varied and sometimes amusing, and a little license, after more than four years’ strict repression, on the part of the young people, could be viewed with toleration. It is an event that never again will be celebrated in their lives, and even the excellent guardians of public order have not been oblivious of this fact.”

When this lousy war is over,
No more soldiering for me,
When I get my civvy clothes on,
Oh, how happy I shall be!
No more church parades on Sunday,
No more putting in for leave,
I shall kiss the sergeant-major,
How I’ll miss him, how he’ll grieve!
Amen.

The Peace Year, 1919

March 14th: “Co.-Sergt.-Major E.C. Brown, A.S.C., of Tinkley Farm, Nailsworth, a local Territorial who had served throughout the war, died at his home just a fortnight after he had been demobilised.”

July 4th: “Shortly after three o’clock last Saturday afternoon the great world war came officially to an end by the signing of the Peace Treaty in the Hall of Mirrors at the Chateau of Versailles…For good or ill the Treaty has been framed and it has been signed…We may hope that…a reformed Germany and a rehabilitated and self-governing Russia will before the next decade has run its course have become members of the League of Nations. If we are to be free of the eternal threat of war these great peoples must be drawn again into the comity of nations.
Throughout the Stroud District last Saturday evening the signing of the Peace Treaty was joyously celebrated…Bells were ringing in many church belfries, flags were again unfurled, townsmen and villagers alike took part in the impromptu demonstrations. Stroud on Saturday night was thronged with good humoured, happy crowds…We have won a great victory. But even in the hour of our recognition of the magnitude of this victory we cannot lose sight of all the difficulties that have yet to be overcome before its ripe fruits fall into our hands…It has impoverished England…We have to carry an immense load of debt, and the depreciation of our currency is shown by the abnormal price of practically every commodity or comestible…The pre-war standard of wages has gone never to return. A better standard of living, shorter working hours, for the working classes, must be one of the first effects of this dawning peace-time. Wee glad to say that a large section of the workers are already enjoying these benefits. The danger is that extremists will by ill-considered and reckless tactics rob them of these hardly-won advantages in the same way as Bolshevism has robbed the Russian industrial classes.”

They were summoned from the hillside,
They were called in from the glen,
And the country found them ready
At the stirring call for men.
Let no tears add to their hardship,
As the soldiers pass along,
And although your heart is breaking
Make it sing this cheery song:
Keep the home fires burning
While your hearts are yearning,
Though the lads are far away,
They dream of home.
There’s a silver lining,
Through the dark clouds shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out,
Till the boys come home.

Let the living answer the roll call of the dead:
Walter Tull of Spurs and Northampton Town KIA 1918;

And now the names from Forest Green:
Harry Watts was born in 1891 in Avening.
Harry joined the 6th Signal Corps of the Royal Engineers
prior to outbreak of war and became a Corporal.
He received the Military Medal in 1915.

Ernest Beale was born in 1897.
He worked as a brass worker before joining up.
He died in 1916 at Exeter Hospital of meningitis.

Names from another century come back to haunt us:
Walter, and Ernest, and Harry,
Names once shouted over a football pitch,
‘Give it to Walter’,
‘Over here, Harry,
‘Shoot, Ernie’;

The imperatives of a football team
Replaced by new orders in khaki, with
Night patrols, barbed wire and machine guns;
Muddied football boots forgotten
In the trench foot fields of Flanders;
The clamour from the ground and stands
No match for whizz bangs, mortars and howitzers;
The fogs of a November match,
Innocent memories in a gas attack:

‘Over the top tomorrow, Harry’,
‘Keep your head down, Ernie’,
‘Stay quiet. Don’t shoot, Ernie’,
‘Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll get you to hospital’,
‘Where’s Walter?’

You may have known each other,
Played with or against each other,
Trained together,
Boarded ships and trains together,
Relieved each other in the trenches,
And who knows?
Some of the Nailsworth, Shortwood and Forest Green players
Who survived the war,
May have searched for your body, Walter,
Before and after your last breath and memories,
Memories of Spurs and Northampton,
And childhood,
And a grandmother who had been a slave,
And you, an officer now,
Revered and loved by his men,
Searching for you out there in no man’s land,
As you breathe your last breath,
In whatever corner of a foreign field,
Which will always be an England,
Where the wind rushes.

And, who knows?
They may have talked of you,
That fine footballer, officer and gentleman,
When gathering in the Jovial Forester,
Toasting you with Stroud Brewery beer,
But then forgetting you as times grew hard,
As the wind rushes by.

As the Wind Rushes by.