First World War – Page 6 – The Melting Pot – Merthyr Tydfil's History and Culture

Keir Hardie: Leader of the Labour Party – part 4

by Carolyn Jacob

‘The life of one Welsh miner is of greater commercial and moral value to the British nation than the whole Royal crowd put together.’

Keir Hardie June 1894

‘One day in June, 1894, in the Commons, an address of congratulations was moved on the birth of a son to the Duchess of York. Hardie moved an amendment to this address, crying out that over two hundred and fifty men and boys had been killed on the same day in a mining disaster, and claiming that this great tragedy needed the attention of the House of Commons far more than the birth of any baby. He had been a miner himself; he knew. The House rose at him like a pack of wild dogs. His voice was drowned in a din of insults and the drumming of feet on the floor. But he stood there, white-faced, blazing-eyed, his lips moving, though the words were swept away and he was dismissed for spoiling the joy of a Royal occasion’.

R. Clynes, Memoirs, 1937

Attacking the Royal Family was hugely unpopular but Hardie was grief-stricken for colliers’ families and bitter that others did not seem to even care. He later criticised the visit by the Russian Czar because Russia had recently treated trade unionists savagely, shooting demonstrators. In reply Keir Hardie and two others were removed from the list of Members invited to Court functions. In the Merthyr Express Keir Hardie seemed amused not to be invited to the Royal Garden Party, an invitation he would not have accepted, as he could not return the compliment by inviting the Court to tea in his small terraced house in Lanarkshire.

‘I thought the days of my pioneering were over but of late I have felt, with increasing intensity, the injustice inflicted on women by our present laws’.

Keir Hardie, speech at the Labour Party Conference, 1907

‘That there is difference of opinion concerning the tactics of the militant Suffragettes goes without saying, but surely there call be no two opinions concerning the horrible brutality of these proceedings? Women, worn and weak by hunger, are seized upon, held down by brute force, gagged, a tube inserted down their throats and food poured or pumped into the stomach’.

Keir Hardie, letter to Votes for Women, 1 October, 1909

The Pankhursts converted Hardie to the cause of women’s suffrage, although not all of his fellow socialists shared this commitment. In 1907 when Miss Arscott of Merthyr Tydfil, daughter of the Brecon Road grocer, was imprisoned in London for taking part in a demonstration outside the Houses of Parliament Keir Hardie visited her in prison to offer his support and encouragement. He had many female supporters in Merthyr Tydfil, including the daughter of the Liberal MP, D.A. Thomas.

‘Keir Hardie has been the greatest human being of our time. Asked to write a motto, he would choose Votes for Women and Socialism for All.’

The Women’s Dreadnought, 2 October, 1915

‘His extraordinary sympathy with the women’s movement, his complete understanding of what it stands for, were what first made me understand the finest side of his character. In the days when Labour men neglected and slighted the women’s cause or ridiculed it, Hardie never once failed us, never once faltered in his work for us. We women can never forget what we owe him’.

Isabella Ford, a member of the NUWSS

‘Politics is but a kind of football game between the rich Tories and the rich Liberals, and you working men are the ball which they kick vigorously and with grim delight between their goalposts’.

Keir Hardie, The Labour Leader

Keir Hardie devoted his life to the working class and, contrary to the lies of the Conservative Party, he accepted no money for himself. Hard work wore him out, in some photographs he looked like Old Father Time but he was only 59 when he died.

‘The moving impulse of Keir Hardie’s work was a profound belief in the common people. His socialism was a great human conception of the equal right of all men and women to the wealth of the world and to the enjoyment of the fullness of life. He had a touching sympathy for the helpless. I have seen his eyes fill with tears at the news of the death of a devoted dog. He carried to his end an old silver watch he had worn in the mine, which bore the marks of the teeth of a favourite pit pony, made by the futile attempt on its part to eat it’.

Philip Snowden

Keir Hardie could not understand how working-class men could fight each other for a ‘Capitalist Cause’. He was a firm opponent of all wars.

‘I knew that Keir Hardie had been failing in health since the early days of the war. The great slaughter, the rending of the bonds of international fraternity, on which he had built his hopes, had broken him’.

Sylvia Pankhurst

‘The long-threatened European war is now upon us. You have never been consulted about this war. The workers of all countries must strain every nerve to prevent their Governments from committing them to war. Hold vast demonstrations against war, in London and in every industrial centre. Down with the rule of brute force! Down with war! Up with the peaceful rule of the people’.

Keir Hardie at the Merthyr Olympia Skating Rink, 30 October 1914

Keir Hardie disagreed with the Labour Party over the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, as a pacifist, he tried to organize a national strike against Britain’s participation in the war and was saddened that the recruiting in Merthyr showed patriotic zeal. He was concerned about the threat to civil liberties and to the living standards of the working class. Although seriously ill, Hardie took part in several anti-war demonstrations and some of his former supporters denounced him as a traitor.

In December, 1914, Hardie had a stroke and he returned to the House of Commons in 1915 before he had made a full-recovery. Numerous meetings in various parts of the country and staying in people’s homes took their toll. His London home, was an attic in Nevill Court and he does not appear to have taken much care of himself. Politics concerned him more than personal comfort. Once when his doctor told him to rest, he went to Belgium to meet other social democratic leaders but was arrested as he was mistaken for an anarchist!

‘Hardie died of a broken heart. He had always been a pacifist; when British Labour refused to inaugurate a great strike on behalf of peace, Hardie became a broken man’.

R. Clynes, Memoirs

‘What could Hardie do but die?’

George Bernard Shaw

Keir Hardie: Leader of the Labour Party – part 1

by Carolyn Jacob

A rhyming note sent by Keir Hardie to Tom Mackley in reply to some birthday congratulations, 15 August 1912:

Dear Comrade, if you flatter so,
You’ll make an old man vaunty:
I’m six and fifty years, ‘tis true
And much have had to daunt me.
But what of that? My life’s been blest,
With health and faith abiding;
I’ve never sought the rich man’s smile,
I’ve never shirked a hiding.
I’ve tried to do my duty to
My conscience and my neighbour,
Regardless of the gain or loss
Involved in the endeavour.
A happy home, a loving wife,
An I.L.P. fu’ healthy;
I wadna’ swap my lot in life
Wi’ any o’ the wealthy

At this time when we are still remembering the centenary of the end of a dreadful and pointless war we should note that the MP for Merthyr Tydfil, Keir Hardie was totally opposed to this conflict. He died in 1915 broken hearted because World War I had destroyed his great dream of brotherhood. His life is proof that faith, courage and belief can ‘move mountains’. Keir Hardie did not select Merthyr Tydfil, he said that ‘A Welsh speaking Welshman’ should fight Merthyr for the ILP. He believed all Celts were socialists by instinct. Merthyr Tydfil chose Keir Hardie. While Hardie fought an unsuccessful campaign to be elected in Preston, local supporters battled for him in Aberdare and Merthyr. It was possible then to stand in more than one constituency. The election results came out on different days, the newspapers announced that Keir Hardie had been defeated yet again and the next day his victory and election in Merthyr Tydfil was reported. He quickly adapted to Wales, learnt to sing the National Anthem in Welsh and campaigned for Welsh Disestablishment.

James Keir Hardie summarised Merthyr’s contribution to political life: ‘In the golden days to come, when poverty has been destroyed and freedom instituted, the Merthyr Boroughs will hold a warm place in the affections of the happy people as having been the pioneer constituency in heading the Revolution which led to setting up a new social order’.In the words of the Aberdare Leader, 30 October 1915, following the death of Keir Hardie.

‘Earth’s truest heroes are the men who stand Alone, undaunted in a righteous cause, Seeking no honours high or station grand, Heedless alike of blaming or applause; Careless of acclamation or reward’.

We should be proud that our MP, virtually alone in the Commons, spoke against World War 1. He stuck to his beliefs although he met a violent reaction. He would never have criticised those who gave their lives for their country but only those you sent them to their deaths. In the words of George Bernard Shaw after his death, his indomitable truth goes marching on

When he first became an M.P. they had no salary and he supported himself through lectures and writings. He believed it his duty to attend every sitting of the Commons and, if he was prevented by illness, he would send an apology to be put in the Merthyr Express for the electors.

‘It is reputed that a roofer shouted at Keir Hardie assuming he had come to work on the roof of the Commons. His reply was that he had only come to work on the Floor’.

James Keir Hardie was the first advocate of Socialism in the House of Commons and the first leader of an independent Labour group in that assembly. He wanted to eradicate poverty from the lives of the people and to make it possible for all men, women and children to have lives of worth and dignity. He campaigned for all to have good houses, good education and a better economic status. He was a lover of peace. and was elected for Merthyr Tydfil at the time of the Boer War, in the “Khaki” Election of 1900. He was as resolute in denouncing the war as he was in advocating Socialism. He was accused of being a Boer spy and of rejoicing at British defeats and other equally stupid things were said against him, but unpopularity did not silence him, nor modify the tone of his writing in the Labour Leader.

‘Keir Hardie is Labour’s greatest pioneer and its greatest hero. He became the first Labour MP, the founder of the ILP, first leader of the Labour party, pioneer editor of the Labour Leader, and a giant in the socialist movement worldwide. Miraculously, he created a new party, as ‘an uprising of the working class’.

Kenneth O Morgan, Keir Hardie, 2008

To be continued……..

Company Sergeant-Major Charlie Jones

by Ann Lewis

I remember the above photograph of a handsome soldier in uniform, in a black frame taking pride of place in my parents’ living room. He was my father’s uncle, Charlie W. Jones, born at Dowlais, son of Mary and William Jones.

He served in the South African War with the 5th Welsh Regiment, being decorated with a medal. On his return to Dowlais, he, along with several other veterans of the war, was presented with a silver watch by the Dowlais Chamber of Trade at a public meeting. He was also presented with a long service medal by the Territorial Army. To date, however, I have been unable to obtain any information about his service in South Africa.

He was subsequently employed at the Bedlinog Colliery and lived at Greenfield Terrace, Gellifaelog with his wife Annie and his three sons.

At the start of the First World War, Charlie Jones, 37 years of age at the time, was promoted to the rank of Company Sergeant Major, number 59 in the 5th Welsh Regiment, and he was sent to fight in the Dardanelles. Sadly on 21 August 1915 he was killed in action and was subsequently buried at sea. Coincidentally, his eldest son, Private David J. Jones was also in action in the Dardanelles with the 5th Welsh Regiment (Gun Section). How he felt losing his father we can only imagine.

Charlie’s name is included on the Roll of Honour on the Helles Memorial in Turkey, and also on the Roll of Honour at the Merthyr Tydfil Conservative Club.

Merthyr Tydfil Conservative Club Roll of Honour

Our family has lost touch with Charlie’s side of the family, and I have often wondered if there are any of his grand- or great-grandchildren still living in the area, and whether they would be interested in having the original photograph.

If anyone has any information regarding CSM Charlie Jones, or of any of his family, please contact me at merthyr.history@gmail.com, and I will pass the information on to Ann.

Merthyr: Then and Now

CYFARTHFA

by Jason Meaker

Cyfarthfa Works in the 1870’s. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

The first photograph, above, shows a view over the Cyfarthfa Ironworks towards Cyfarthfa Castle.

Opened in 1765 by Anthony Bacon, Cyfarthfa Ironworks was leased by Richard Crawshay in 1786, and by the beginning of the 19th Century was the biggest ironworks in the world.

The Cyfarthfa Works closed in 1910, but re-opened briefly during the First World War to produce steel for armaments. The works finally closed completely in 1919, and were dismantled beginning in 1928.

The second photograph, below, shows roughly the same view. All trace of the once mighty Cyfarthfa Works has gone, but Pandy Farm and Cyfarthfa Castle still remain.

Minnie James and the Temple of Peace – part 2

by Peter Garwood
(courtesy of the Welsh Centre for International Affairs)

Minnie James and the Temple of Peace and Health

In November 1938 she was thrust into the limelight when Lord David Davies decided that he would like to have a Welsh mother who had lost sons in the Great War to open the new Welsh National Temple of Peace and Health, on behalf of all mothers who had lost sons.

Minnie James was invited to see the Temple of Peace for a personal visit by Lord Davies on 10th November 1938. This was to give her an idea of what was expected and to provide a news item to give extra publicity to the opening a few weeks away.

Interviewed by the press she explained that she had a “drawer of secrets”, at home in which she kept mementoes of her three sons who gave their lives for their country. This was their school certificates, fading letters from the front, little presents given to her by the boys when home on leave, and their medals. She stated that these items would be buried with her when she dies; that they were hers and belonged to no-one else.

She was taken down into the crypt “where the Welsh Book of Remembrance will be placed”. She told the press that she thought it was lovely. She thought her sons would be: “so proud of me – I am happy to be chosen for their sake.” She explained how her boys had served and died. She explained that on each Armistice Day she stays at home and during the two minutes silence goes to her sons’ bedroom alone, but for the memory. She told the press that “all who come into this building must feel strongly for peace. It will be lovely for the young people to come here. They will be so impressed. And the mothers and fathers, too, for the sake of their children must come here.” She explained that her three sons had worked at the Dowlais Works; there a tablet records their sacrifice.

As she left the Temple she turned for a moment to look at it again She said: “I feel so happy for my sons. I shall feel them near me when I come back to open this beautiful building.”

Lord Davies invited a total of 24 mothers from all over the United Kingdom and allied countries to the opening, laying on a special train from London.

Representing Northern Ireland was Mrs Nixon of Portrush, Co. Antrim. Four out of her five sons served and died in the Great War – three killed in action, one from wounds received on active service. Her husband had served with Lord Roberts at Kandahar. Mrs Nixon wore 20 medals at the opening ceremony.

Representing the Scottish Highlands was Mrs Mary Lamont of Pitlochry (The home town of Lady Davies). Three sons served, one killed, one discharged, one wounded, one son still serving in India.

Representing North-East England was Mrs R. Gibson, of Newcastle on Tyne. Two sons served, both killed. Husband was with relief force sent for General Gordon, re-enlisted in the Great War.

Representing North-West England: Mrs R. Houlgrave of Liverpool. Lost four sons in the War, one dying a prisoner in Turkey, another dying after discharge. A fifth son served and survived.

Representing East Anglia: Mrs E. Lewer of Aldeburgh, Suffolk. Lost her only son in the first Territorial Unit to go into action 1914.

Representing London: Mrs M.A. Sawyer, of Battersea, Daughter of a Crimean veteran. Had three sons serving, one killed, one subsequently died and one incapacitated.

……to be continued.

Original article can by found at:

http://wcia.org.uk/Senedd/WomenWarPeace_Stories_MinnieJames.html

Minnie James and the Temple of Peace – part 1

by Peter Garwood
(courtesy of the Welsh Centre for International Affairs)

In November 1938 Minnie James was thrust into the limelight when Lord David Davies decided that he would like to have a Welsh mother who had lost sons in the Great War to open the Welsh National Temple of Peace and Health on behalf of all mothers who had lost sons.

Minnie James from a Movietone news film about the opening of the National Temple of Peace.

But who was Minnie James? Peter Garwood, Wales for Peace volunteer, has been trawling through the archives to find out more.

Minnie James was born as Minnie Annie Elizabeth Watkins on 3rd October 1866 at Merthyr Tydfil.

Minnie Watkins married William James, a bachelor, age 23 on 1st January 1891, at the Parish Church in the Parish of Merthyr Tydfil, Glamorgan. The 1911 census shows the family living in a seven roomed house, 8 Cross Francis Street, Dowlais. William is working as a Clerk, Minnie has no listed occupation. The parents have been married for 20 years and have had eight children, six of whom are still alive. David is 19 and single and working as a Draughtsman, John is age 16, single and working as a Apprentice Fitter, Thomas is still in school. There are two new children: Winifred James age 7 born Merthyr and William James , age 1 born Dowlais. The family are sufficiently well off to have a General Servant, one Elizabeth A. Murphy, age 22, a single woman, born Dowlais.

Two children had died:

Elizabeth age 2 months who died and was buried 28th September 1901 at Merthyr Tydfil Council Cemetery Section.
Gwladys age 7, who died and was buried 6th March 1907 at Merthyr Tydfil Council Cemetery Section.

1914-1918: the impact of war on the James family

In 1914 the Great War broke out and men were quick to enlist. Minnie’s first son, David James joined the Welsh Guards, enlisting at Merthyr. He entered the theatre of war on 17th August 1915 in France. He was killed in action on 25th September 1916, age 24.

Like many men who died in the conflict of 1914-1918, his body was never identified and he is named on the Thiepval Memorial. He was awarded the British Victory and War medal along with the 1915 Star. His death was reported in the Western Mail on 13th October 1916.

The war ended in November 1918 but her second son Thomas had joined the 13th Welsh Regiment and had been wounded in France dying from wounds, age 21, on Christmas Day 1918. He was awarded the British Victory and War medal.

Her third son James, (known as Jack) had joined the Royal Welch Fusiliers and entered the theatre of war on 1st December 1915. He was wounded during the war, and awarded the British Victory and War medal along with the 1915 Star and the Silver War Badge for wounds. He was discharged on 28th January 1919.

However, he died on 23rd June 1920 at 8 Cross Francis Street, age 24 with his father present, eighteen months after his brother Thomas. His death certificate records the fact that the cause of death was “General Tuberculosis”. He was buried on 26th June 1920 at Merthyr Tydfil Council Cemetery, Pant.

All three sons who died in the Great War are commemorated by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

Minnie’s husband William James died at the age of 68, he had served as a Special Constable in the Great War and was buried on 20th November 1936 at Merthyr Tydfil Council Cemetery, Pant.

……to be continued.

Original article can by found at:

http://wcia.org.uk/Senedd/WomenWarPeace_Stories_MinnieJames.html

Troedyrhiw Local History Forum

Influenza in Merthyr

Just as the First World War was coming to an end, Britain was gripped by a devastating worldwide ‘flu epidemic. Below is a transcription of a report about the ‘flu reaching Merthyr.

INFLUENZA – FATALITIES IN MERTHYR BOROUGH AND CEFN

Many people have been suffering from influenza in various parts of the Borough of Merthyr Tydfil, which, up to about a fortnight ago, had been immune from fatal cases. During the intervening period influenza and pneumonia have produced baleful effects in a series of homes at Dowlais, Troedyrhiw, Treharris, and the outside village of Cefn Coed.

A stalwart Troedyrhiw miner, W. Evans, was seized with the malady only a day after his second marriage, and in a few days the bridge was left a widow. Soon afterwards his daughter was brought home ill from Cardiff. In one house at Treharris two children died, and a third was removed to a Merthyr hospital. At Cefn the death has occurred of Mr. Morris, a clerk at the Cyfarthfa offices, and at another house in that locality, Miss Morris, his niece, died subsequently. Her funeral took place on Tuesday. Mr. J. Hughes, who had been a well-known Merthyr bookmaker, member of the V.T.C., died from pneumonia last week and was interred at Cefn Cemetery on Monday, with military honours.

On account of the epidemic, Cefn Schools were again closed this week to 1,200 scholars. The Rev. Dyfuallt Owen, Congregational Minister, of Carmarthen, has been laid up at Merthyr. He was on Sunday week visiting preacher at Ebenezer, and was prevented by an attack of influenza from lecturing here on the following day. He was put to bed at the house of some of his friends, and was obliged to re- main there until the early days of this week.

(The Pioneer – 9 November 1918)

By the time the epidemic had run its course in 1919, a quarter of the population of Britain had been affected, and over 228,000 people died. This, however, is a drop in the ocean compared to the death-toll worldwide. Exact numbers of the dead are not known, but the total is reckoned to be in excess of 50 million.

Josiah Roger Lloyd Atkins: World War 1 P.O.W. – part 2

Continued from previous post…..

One recalls the eventual arrival at an open compound with its double line of barbed wire fence; the panic of a prisoner who tried to scale the barbed wire and escape from this human rat trap, and the sharp bark of German rifle as he slumped to the ground. Poor devil… he never stood a chance, but sheer dementia had banished all reason before he steeled himself in adjustment to a situation which he had probably never contemplated. Possibly most of us had envisaged a lost limb or hoped for a slight ‘blighty’ wound which offered a short respite from the horror of stinking trenches and that black morass of mud which had all the quality of a sucking quicksand. But – Prisoner of War – how many had ever considered that an option? Military manuals gave little space to such a possibility. You were told that you were not compelled to afford anything other than your name, age and rank to anyone seeking information which could possibly be of use to the enemy, in the event of your being captured. Such a possibility seemed to be ruled out, really. The situation was most unlikely to arise.

Well, it had that day for thousands of men, whose future was clouded in nebulous speculation. Nobody could offer you anything tangible to bite on. For a long time ahead, in fact, there would be little of anything to bite on. Starvation was a word one had never used, much less contemplated as a possibility for oneself. Still, you would learn to allay that gnawing hunger pain which gave you a sickening nausea as your inner mechanism clamoured for sustenance. The British naval blockade was doing this to millions of Germans too, to a lesser degree perhaps, but you could derive little comfort from this knowledge.

Food, always FOOD, became an absolute obsession. All conversations revolved around it, making its lack even more devastating. If those nocturnal junketings with friends offered temporary euphoria or satisfaction, stark reality of your plight would crash into your mind as soon as you awakened. Then back to the endless discussions on the unchanging theme. God. What fools we were, just turning the knife in the wound with those gastronomic repetitive exercises of the past. Menus of London eating houses. Joys of the ‘Cheshire Cheese’, where you selected and served yourself from a loaded Dumb Waiter or sideboard. ‘Sam Isaacs’, the fish restaurant with the inevitable succulent chips. Even the merits of trotters and tripe, whelks, oyster bars, jellied eels. Your choice conversationally was endless. But oh, the futility of it all.

Then at long last: parcels from home, and those Red Cross parcel days which gave life a new colour and hope and courage. You even invited a friend to ‘dinner’. The liquid from the pork and beans tin with added water made soup – of a kind. The remaining beans, mashed with the odd potato salvaged from your daily German soup ration, provided a pâté. Satisfying and quite Mrs Beetonish. Rice and milk – one tin between four guests – from the Red Cross parcel. This could be stretched by the further addition of water; the only commodity still plentiful. Occasionally a biscuit, with an infinitesimal portion of cheese. All swilled down with issued ersatz coffee of crushed acorns, if you could stomach that beverage. Then an Abdulla cigarette, passed round for a ‘drag’ until you got to the pin at the smoked out butt end, all rather like an Indian Pow Wow pipe of peace.

Then conversation and ‘experiences’ of men who, before the war, had followed diverse occupations: diamond mining, timber felling, Canadian trapping, District Commissioner in India. Life had become fuller again as stomachs became fuller. An occasional discussion on religion brought on your own realisation of how little thought you had given to this subject, and you recalled a little shamefacedly that Drumhead Service when you and thousands of other new prisoners had knelt and given thanks on that Easter Sunday, some days after capture, conducted by that South African Padre with one arm only and one eye. He who refused to be repatriated on account of his disabilities because, as he said, “I can do God’s work in a Prison Camp.” And then you thought of the little camp chapel, with its dwindling attendances as parcels became more plentiful and the war news from the Western Front and the High Seas gave hope of a return home. As one cynic remarked, “Let’s hope the Almighty has a sense of humour,” as he recalls that pious service of thanksgiving on that first Easter in captivity, when “Morgens, caput” seemed quite a possibility.

Josiah Roger Lloyd Atkins

Many thanks to Forces War Records for allowing me to use this article, and I would encourage everyone to visit their excellent and very informative site.

www.forces-war-records.co.uk

If you would like to view the original article, it appeared in Forces War Records Magazine dated January 2016, and is available at the following link:-

www.forces-war-records.co.uk/magazine/issues/2016/01/content/assets/basic-html/page-I.html

Josiah Roger Lloyd Atkins: World War 1 P.O.W. – part 1

The following story appeared in the Forces War Records Magazine dated January 2016, and is transcribed here with the kind permission of Forces War Records. www.forces-war-records.co.uk

My father, Josiah Roger Lloyd Atkins, was born in Merthyr Tydfil on 23rd November 1896 and served in WW1. When he died in the late 1970s, I found, amongst his papers, an account of his memories of being taken prisoner by the Germans on 21st March 1918, which he typed 50 years after the end of the war.

In the hope that this may be of interest to you, I have attached a copy of his account, together with a photograph of him in uniform. I also have an original copy of the POW camp Graudenz ‘The Vistula Weekly Newspaper’, 1918. The camp was in West Prussia. When he first joined the army he was accepted into the Honourable Artillery Company, until he became a Commissioned Officer in the Machine Gun Corps.

One of my grandsons, aged 10, was given a school project for half term which was to be based around WW1. It was with great pleasure that I was able to offer him information based on my father, his great grandfather, and I have just received his completed half term homework, on A3 paper, which included my father’s photograph, his typed account, the significance of the poppy, the poem by John McCrae, and a photocopy of a Dead Man’s Penny. I felt very proud and emotional at my young grandson’s interest and application, and know that his great grandfather would have been equally proud and emotional.

Yours faithfully, Mrs Gilly Lloyd Whitlock (Dorset)

By Josiah Roger Lloyd Atkins, Officer, Machine Gun Corps: This happened to me.

Whenever the 21st of March comes around, memories come crowding back of the incident that happened on that day in the year 1918. As it all occurred a little over 50 years ago, you who read this might well be excused for expressing the doubt that, after such a period of time, memory must become a little dim, and imagination must supplant accurate memory to some extent. As the pundits in the field of human memory will tell you, if impressions are strong enough, they become firmly planted in the mind and recollection becomes effortless and more or less automatic. So I can, without the slightest hesitation, claim that the impressions of that day were as strong as any impressions could be, and the recollections today are as crystal clear as though everything happened yesterday. Why? Well, it was the day that I first became a guest of the Kaiser until the end of the Great War. ‘Guest’ perhaps is a slightly extravagant word for incarceration in a Prison Camp, so if you prefer ‘offizier kriegsgefangen’, well, you just make your own choice.

There was great jubilation in Germany on that day, or maybe the next day. Not, mark you, because they regarded my capture as all that important, but I was just one of an estimated 20,000 soldiers of the Allied Forces, and one must admit, that’s quite a lot of soldiery, by any standard of fighting potential. Now, on consideration, it seems somewhat ironic that they – the Jerries – employed almost the identical military tactics which culminated in our disastrous Dunkirk in the Second World War. All of which goes to prove that they seemed to know their job, while we… well, the less said the better, perhaps.

Being ‘taken prisoner’ is a very disturbing business, leastways I found it so. I became acquainted with the German language for the first time when an interrogating N.C.O. gave me a rather baneful look, drew his hand across his throat and quite cheerfully said, “Morgens. Caput. Sie.” A remark which produced a supporting chorus of “Morgens, caput,” from his fellow soldiers – displaying obvious glee. One could be excused, I think, for feeling this was a little playful humour on their part, until one of our chaps, who spoke German, explained to me that it meant, “Tomorrow. Finished. YOU.” And that little gesture with the edge of the right hand across his throat made one feel that the joke – if joke it was – appeared to be in very bad taste. I was young, you see, just 21, and there seemed such a lot of things that one had planned to do with one’s life, and you never expected it to end like this. I thought of lots of friends I would never see again. I felt I’d like to have been privileged to thank my mother for lots of sacrifices she had been compelled to make since my father died when I was a boy of 10. It all seemed so unfair that now I could never do anything to repay her.

Still, buoyancy of spirit is very marked in the young and the depression soon passed. It was comforting to see many beribboned, very senior, officers in that column of weary prisoners trudging through the Flanders mud and the back areas of German occupied territory. One experienced a comforting warmth from the pat on the shoulder from some ageing peasant woman, who darted out from a shell ravaged little hovel with a wary eye on that mounted Uhlan with his menacing lance, as his mount cantered along that straggling line of prisoners, tapering back in an endless ribbon, getting dimmer and dimmer in the early evening light.

To be continued…..