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Author Archives: Family Letters

Jigsaw pieces

One of the interesting things reading the letters is putting together the jigsaw pieces.  In the summer of 1915 Richard says

Please tell Jane I’ve absolutely cleaned the bath now with Zoy & Brookses & I also washed Susan today in Lux

Zoy & Brookses is presumably a cleaning product, and Lux is still soap. Who or what would you wash in soap?  A bicycle or a dog, perhaps?

On the 30th June, Susan turns up again when Paul writes about a motor accident

I heard from Bee Dudman this morning – she seemed to tell me a good deal about it & that “Susan” is dead – was she in the car & killed or what?

So she was presumably a dog and not a bicycle.

By November 1915, Paul comments to his mother

Susan’s done well! What are you going to do with them all?

So not dead in the motor accident.  This sounds like a litter of puppies; rather a large litter of puppies.

And finally towards the end of November Paul says:

As a matter of fact our Captain wanted a dog – so I told him about Susan’s puppies – but he’s just told me he thinks he’d like an older animal – it’s rather hard to bring them up properly on board – so he’s getting another one.

Piecing together these incidentals are a lot easier with the internet because people, places and brands tend to be mentioned online. But not dogs.

 
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Posted by on 8 January, '14 in About

 

Gove – ignoring the voices of the dead

Michael Gove wrote recently about WWI with an astonishing lack of self-awareness. His remarks are worth quoting:

The conflict has, for many, been seen through the fictional prism of dramas such as Oh! What a Lovely War, The Monocled Mutineer and Blackadder, as a misbegotten shambles – a series of catastrophic mistakes perpetrated by an out-of-touch elite. Even to this day there are Left-wing academics all too happy to feed those myths.

It is hard to let the phrase “an out-of-touch elite” pass without comment, but I shall. Instead I am going to make three observations.

The first is that a war where 65 million men were mobilised has many millions of meanings. The meaning of the First World War in particular changed when it was not “over by Christmas” as expected, when entire families of brothers and entire streets of men were killed in a week or a single day going over the top in France, when the 16 million killed were not dead for the duration as Diana Cooper noted in confused grief, but dead forever.

The second is that Gove cites Oh What a Lovely War as a “fictional prism”. This is immensely interesting. I discovered this week that Oh What a Lovely War was based directly on a radio documentary called The Long Long Trail made in the 1960s by Charles Chilton whose father died aged 19 at Aras. Chilton collected the folk songs of the war, the parodies, the bar-room songs, the songs the troops sang on trains and in the trenches. The words of Oh What a Lovely War may be left wing; if so it’s because the enlisted men singing

If you want the old battalion,
We know where they are,
They’re hanging on the old barbed wire

or more simply

I don’t want to die

are not singing the words written for them by song-writers or propagandists. They are singing their own words. And they speak directly to us.

My third observation is that one of WW1s shortest war poems was by the British Empire’s greatest apologist, Rudyard Kipling. It is also one of the most powerful. Kipling’s only beloved son John should and could have been exempt from from military service because he was cripplingly short-sighted, instead his father pulled strings and got him into the army and out to France where the 18 year old was killed on his second day at the front when his face was blown off. His body was never found. Kipling was stricken with grief and guilt:

If any question why we died
Tell them, because our fathers lied.

Gove should show the dead some respect. He should not try to silence the voices of the people who were there, even when they say things he doesn’t want them to say.


The Long Long Trail – Broadcast for the first time since 1961, this is Charles Chilton’s forgotten radio masterpiece telling the story of the First World War through the songs sung by soldiers.

BBC Archive on 4 – Documentary about The Long Long Trail – Roy Hudd explores Charles Chilton’s masterpiece telling the story of the First World War in a unique way – through the songs sung by soldiers. 

BBC News Magazine – The Birth of Oh What a Lovely War!

 
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Posted by on 6 January, '14 in About

 

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Songs across the Century

I am used to reading about the war, and seeing black and white or sepia photographs.  Not so used to the sounds.

First here is Ted, writing to his sister Jane in February 1915:

I hope your concert is a success; it’s coming off today is’nt it. Have you got when we wind up the watch on the Rhine yet. I’m sure that you appeal to tommy audiences; send me a copy when it comes out. Guy Mainwairing and I have just been bawling it out in the 1st Bn: mess (an old ruined pub!) I should think the Germans must have heard us!

Chris managed to track down an audio file and the sheet music.

The link to the audio files: http://www.archeophone.com/features/march_to_war/songs/cd1/23.php

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck as I listened to that.

And here is the link to the sheet music: https://jscholarship.library.jhu.edu/handle/1774.2/25775

 
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Posted by on 5 January, '14 in About

 

But who’s it from?

There are a couple of postcards, supposedly from Ted, but I am sure they must be from Richard.  It would be good to see them to make sure.

Richard was a careless and brief correspondent, and I can imagine him not signing postcards, Ted was slightly more careful.

The thing is, a postcard from Richard saying he was at the Mont Dore Hospital in Bournemouth would be the equivalent of a text saying “train got in on time, got there safe” now.  He was a doctor, he appears to have been working in Bournemouth for a while.

A postcard from Ted on the other hand saying he was in a Hospital on the South Coast when he should have been in France being shelled, that would have been heart-stopping news for his mother.

So I shall assume these unsigned postcards are from Richard, and add them to the list of things I hope to see when I go to the Imperial War Museum later in the year.

The picture below is from the Bournemouth Echo, and shows WW1 soldiers at the Mont Dore Hospital.

Bournemouth Echo - Troops at Mount Dore

 
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Posted by on 4 January, '14 in About

 

Look and feel

I spent a while looking for an appropriate look and feel for the site. It’s a WordPress site, and I am not proud, so I’m happy to use out of the box wordpress themes. I settled on Runu, which I like because it looks like a notepad and the font is era-appropriate being times-new-romanish.  You are probably reading this post in this theme right now, but in case you aren’t, this is what it looks like – click on the image below for a larger version.

Runo Theme

But recently I saw another theme which I also like and which also looks a little like letters, but letters written in leather note cases.

Choco for Post

I think I prefer the second one, but I’d like some other thoughts from other people. What do you think?

 

 
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Posted by on 3 January, '14 in About, WWI

 

Facing up to Facebook

I’ve started down the Facebook Rabbit Hole this week, and have purchased $30 of advertising to people in the UK interested in History, WW1, the Indian Army and the Christmas Truce and also to the friends and family of people who’ve liked the page.  Hopefully it won’t be too intrusive, but just intrusive enough.

This is the first time I’ve bought advertising on Facebook, despite being actively involved in social and campaigning groups using Facebook for a while.  It’s not the first time I’ve tried to buy advertising, but it’s the first time I’ve sat down and worked the grim process through to the bitter end. Blimey, but it’s complex.  All part of their cunning plan, I suspect.

On the subject of Facebook, old school ties and old boys’ networks, I also need to get in touch with other groups that might be interested, the schools they were at, since the Public Schools were such a major part of WW1 (Jim was even in the Public Schools Battalion for a while).  Also, the relevant regimental and naval organisations.  As an individual, I can’t hook up with the Imperial War Museum, which is annoying, I would like to benefit from their click-love.

 
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Posted by on 2 January, '14 in About, Imperial War Museum, WWI

 

Other voices, other times

At the moment I am mining a rich seam of unintended comedy in a variety of letters, some written by the family, and some to them.

On Sat: Mrs Stotherd comes to lunch after decorating – it’s always rather a trial- altho’ she doesn’t sit among the tombs as much as she used.

What can one say? Straight from a Wilkie Collins novel, in spirit if not in fact. Mrs Stotherd was presumably decorating the church by arranging the flowers in it.

We have Reggie at home now, also wounded – it is such a blessing to feel they are safely in England & receiving the best attention. The dear old boy is very cheerful, but in a good deal of pain as his sciatic nerve has been injured in some way.

Lucky, wounded, cheerful Reggie.

And here is someone whose tartness I feel I would have enjoyed:

We have lots of wounded in all the Red X hospitals round us- & they may take our school later on. … I would much rather have a government one. Red X is wonderfully muddled as a rule, & such squabbles!

I have spent my life knitting, & am still at it, for the French wounded now.

A PS on a letter to a wounded officer sent home to England to recover from a fellow officer in France:

By the way- the C.O. has asked me to tell you that your Mess Bill is 11.50 Francs (say 9/-) Could you send a Postal Order? Sorry to trouble you but C.O. &c.

I love the economy of phrase of “but C.O. etc”.

 
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Posted by on 31 December, '13 in About

 

Honey still for tea

Not all the letters are grim.

I am surprised how much time some of them spent in England. Not Paul, at sea in the Navy, but Richard was a doctor and was posted in troop hospitals on the English coast during 1915. I am not sure what Jim was doing in England at this time (few of his letters survive) and Ted was either on leave or training troops during this day trip straight out of Betjeman:

Bournemouth.

Wednesday.

My dear Mother. I expect you’ve heard of Ted’s & my trip to see Mrs Hughes Hewett. We enjoyed it awfully & it was a pity Ted had to come away so soon. He missed so much of the motor part. It was so nice seeing Blanche again, & Diana is a dear little girl.

I motored back here & found nothing doing. No wounded & the place empty. I wonder whatever they will do with us. I must try & get up to see you all again soon. I miss Ben, she has not written yet, but I suspect she is busy with her new job. Please tell her I have been to Swanage today. Quite a nice little place & such a good tea. Honey – cream – lovely bread & butter & gorgeous cakes! I took Miss Twining.

I am wiring to Jim tonight to get him over for a dance tomorrow. He’s been here on Sunday. Lovely weather nowadays. I bathed today and enjoyed it.

Best love to all

Yr loving son

Richard.

Wherever he is outside the trenches, Richard stays in the best hotels and his letters are full of pretty girls, dances, motorcars, race-horses and occasional tallies of figures as he works out how to pay for them all.

 

About this Project: Cold pigs and the time-traveller’s paradox

With The royal Garhwal RiflesIt’s surely no surprise that I am acutely aware of the Time-Traveller’s Paradox – what happens if you go back in time and shoot your own grandfather?  I keep on thinking that if a particular bullet had hit a bit higher then my grandparents would never have met, my mother would not have been born, and neither I nor my siblings would be here today. It’s something we all know, of course, but it’s odd to think about so much. Some years ago I was in a building which had a mirrored floor and ceiling so you appeared to stand on top of an infinite precipice. Thinking about this feels a little like that.

In other news, I have bought a copy of the regimental history of the war, written by my grandfather’s commanding officer, D H Drake-Brockman.  It’s fascinating.  Writing after the war, Drake-Brockman has the time and the leisure for descriptions.

I kept our Battalion headquarters in the vicinity of the ruined farm in a sort of dugout. In reality it was one of those brick pits in which they store beetroots. [Oh, yes, of course, one of those brick pits]. … The farm house, or what remained of it, formed a too conspicuous object, and though the dug-out was shallow, it did us for the time very well. The cellar in the house had evidently been occupied by the headquarters signallers of the relieved regiment, and apparently a heavy howitzer had made a direct hit, for the walls were covered with the poor fellows’ brains and blood. There were still the owner’s cows and other live stock at the farm roaming about the ruins. The owner turned out to be a woman, who came daily to feed them. I had to get our interpreter to tell her to take them away and not come up again as the farm was only about 80 yards from the front line. One of her fine cows was lying dead in the stall, killed by a shell. She took the cows away at night, but left the pigs, which roamed about disconsolately. Eventually they were all killed one by one by shell and rifle fire. At night, even when it was bitterly cold and a heavy frost on, the pigs were happy as long as their snouts were covered up. They poked them under the straw at the bottom of a stack in the yard. they did not mind their bodies being exposed to the frost and cold!

 

 
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Posted by on 28 September, '13 in About, Col Drake Brockman

 

About this Project: The proof of the pudding

It’s less than a year until the centenary of the start of WWI, and ten months until the first of the letters is scheduled for publication on the 6th July.  The last 10 months have been busy for me, but it’s time to pick this project up again.

A friend of mine has agreed to proof-read the letters for me. His name is Chris Miller and, appropriately for this project, he is the great-great-nephew of the Winslow Boy who was killed at Ypres on the 31st October 1914 aged 19.  If you want proof-reading done, just drop Chris a line.  His work is sorely needed on this project.

The OCR software I’m using is Abbyy FineReader and it’s fussy.  Like all powerful software you have to know how to configure it in order to get the best out of it.

The three screenshots below show just what a difference it made when I managed to re-tune the settings in the OCR software.  Here is one of the original letters, typed in a crazy 1970s typeface.

RCPBtoGFB19140804

Here is the Word version with the software sorting stuff out automatically. I’ve set MS Word to show a dot wherever there is a wordspace, to bring out just how impossible the results are.  As you can see it reads My dear Mother as M y d e a r M o t b c r.  With results this bad, retyping looked like the only option.

RCPBtoGFB19140804poor

Fiddling around with the settings has produced this; a change in quality so dramatic that it makes the project doable.

RCPBtoGFB19140804good

There is still plenty of proof-reading for Chris to do in order for the text to be postable here.  But the project is exciting again, rather than a heart-sink.

 
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Posted by on 1 September, '13 in About

 

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