PC to Miss Crawshaw, 29 Strathleven etc franked APO 15 De 14 – chage to Censor No 1611 dated 6-12-14– written in pencil
Dear Till
Just a few lines hoping you are in the best of health and still merry and bright I expect by this time Uncle Matt has received my letter by now. I had a letter from Muff and she is getting on alright and they all wish me the best of luck. The weather out here is very wet at present. How did you enjoy yourself along of Tom, have you heard from Jess lately? Remember me to all at home and also Tango. Now I think this is all the news at present hoping to hear from you soon.
Your loving Brother
Frank xx
6th December 1914
The Dorsets spent another day in billets.
Frank has written another letter home but this one is short and doesn’t really go into much detail beyond asking after family members. The usual suspects are all there: Uncle Matt, Muff, Tom, Jess and Tango. The main detail to take away from this letter is Frank’s comment about the “very wet” weather. The Dorset war diary has become very short on information lately but the 5th Divisional dairy reports snow, sleet and rain on the 5th December turning to frost on the morning of the 6th.
Isn’t “merry and bright” a lovely phrase? From all the lovely things I’ve heard about my Great Grandmother, it certainly sums up her personality.
The Dorsets remained in billets at Dranoutre for the day.
Going back to Frank’s letter from the 3rd, the mysterious and continuously ill Jess continues to torment us.
Jess has been ill but is getting on alright now have you heard from her lately I had two letters. Tell Aunt Mrs Coats old man is still with us, yes I would sooner be filling her scuttle and out here only a dream.
Frank mentions another Brixton man: A Mr Coats by the sound of it. I’ll have a look through the records when I get a chance.
We are still on the go and doing our bit to polish the Germans off, what does Albert think of it.
Searching through the family tree I can only come up with one possible Albert. He’s Frank’s cousin by Herbert Webster and his wife Mary. Albert is only 11 so I imagine the war would seem very exciting to him – anyone like Frank in my family would have had immediate hero status in my eyes at that age (and this age of course).
Have not heard or seen them chocolates yet, had a letter from Bert and have answered it said that he stopped the blue bag. I told him that was only half his luck, better than stopping a Jack Johnson.
Here’s another mention of my Great Grandfather, Carl Robert Debnam. He’s currently back in England with the Royal Garrison Artillery. He was stationed at Fort Picklecombe in Cornwall in August 1914. I shall return to him later on. He still hasn’t sent Frank any chocolate.
His letter has a mysterious phrase in it: “stopped the blue bag”. The only explanation I can give to this (and I am probably missing some obvious military reference) is that Bert has mentioned that he got stung by a wasp or a bee. It fits Frank’s following reposte of “better than stopping a Jack Johnson”, which, as we all know now don’t we class, is a German high explosive shell. Why a wasp? Blue Bag was a make of laundry whitener which people used to treat bee and wasp stings. It’s an alkaline so would theoretically counter the acid in the sting. Bluing was a way of adding a blue tint to white laundry – a blue tint takes away any grey or yellow hue. It was probably a throw away comment in Bert’s letter and Frank’s using it as a hook for his joke. Boom boom.
The more I read about Tom, the more I think he is connected to Aunt Carrie and Uncle Matt in some way. Whether he’s a relative or not remains to be seen. Tom has apparently been helping to make the Christmas Plum Duff “he said he was making some Duff am I right” so is he staying in the same house as Mabel? It would be easy to assume so. Tom is home on leave, so we can also assume that he’s in the Army or Navy already. We’ll come back to this at a later date.
The end of the letter mentions that the Dorsets have been spoken to by General Sir Smith-Dorrien. Is this a reference to his visit on the 22nd? Just what was said and why would it be in the newspapers?
I feel as if I could do with a rest for me nerves are all shattered, we get relieved from the trenches tomorrow night and then we go back for five days rest which we have all earned.
The Dorsets spent the day in billets. Whether they were to enjoy the five days Frank hopes for remains to be seen. But I do hope he got some rest and possibly enjoyed a bath to get rid of the hitchey coos. Another man, Lance Corporal Lithgow, died and was interred at Dranoutre Military Cemetery. Presumably he died of wounds from the previous day.
I don’t want to dwell on Frank’s mental state. What he’s has been through is impossible to imagine. He’s lost most of his friends, having fought continuously without a break in horrific conditions ranging from the blistering August heat through to the freezing snow of late November and the wet mud of early December. I think we can forgive him feeling below par.
What I admire about Frank more than anything, is that despite what’s happened to him and even at this low ebb, he’s still cracking jokes and still finding nice things to say about people. Onto the letter…
and he hopes to be round at the Hope and Anchor before long trying the cold tea.
He’s still dreaming of a nice cold pint of beer. Frank’s local in Acre Lane, Brixton is sadly no longer called the Hope and Anchor. It’s now a chain pub called Grand Union. Next time I’m up there I’ll pop in and buy Frank a pint of cold tea.
Yes we heard about L Roberts the day after he died. I expect it was a fine sight to see, so you blacked your nose and saw the funeral.
Lord Roberts on his 82nd birthday. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.
L Roberts was Lord Frederick Roberts, 1st Earl Roberts. He had died on the 14th November 1914 while visiting the Indian troops in St Omer, aged 87. He was possibly the most famous British military commander of the Nineteenth Century. He was the embodiment of a soldier-hero of the British Empire. The Telegraph dedicated much of its pages to him for nearly a week after his death.
To put his fame into context his funeral was one of only two state funerals dedicated to non royals in the Twentieth Century. Kipling’s poem, Lord Roberts, laments his passing.
He passed to the very sound of the guns;
But, before his eye grew dim,
He had seen the faces of the sons
Whose sires had served with him.
I’ll leave the rest of the letter for now. I’m off on holiday, rather aptly, to Dorset for a few days. I’ll be posting as and when I can get on the internet.
Envelope addressed to Miss Crawshaw, 29 etc – franked 4 De 14 – again with No Stamps Available on the top – were they expected to pay postage
Letter dated 3-12-14
Dear Till
At last I have got time to answer your letter which I received in the trench. I have heard from everyone this last week and it’s the way when you can’t find time to answer them. Now Till, don’t send out the socks, for have just had some sent to me from those people in Belfast who’s wedding I went to, he is missing Till, they have not heard from him yet. Yes, I would sooner have the underclothing than the Jersey, I am proper hitchy coo you can’t help it Till. We are still in the trenches and what with the rain we are up to our eyes in mud it’s enough to feed (?) you up.
Till I haven’t been feeling myself lately what with the shells bursting just in front of our trench and the wet and cold I feel as if I could do with a rest for me nerves are all shattered, we get relieved from the trenches tomorrow night and then we go back for five days rest which we have all earned.
I had a letter from Tom and have sent him a PC for the time being he said that he is getting on alright and that he hopes I get back safe and he hopes to be round at the Hope and Anchor before long trying the cold tea. Yes we heard about L Roberts the day after he died. I expect it was a fine sight to see, so you blacked your nose and saw the funeral.
Jess has been ill but is getting on alright now have you heard from her lately I had two letters. Tell Aunt Mrs Coats old man is still with us, yes I would sooner be filling her scuttle and out here only a dream. We are still on the go and doing our bit to polish the Germans off, what does Albert think of it. Have not heard or seen them chocolates yet, had a letter from Bert and have answered it said that he stopped the blue bag. I told him that was only half his luck, better than stopping a Jack Johnson.
Till I dropped a PC to St Anne Road but have not heard from them yet. Pleased to hear that you are getting on alright and still mucking in. How is all at home still merry and bright I hope and still mucking in. Remember me to all and tell Aunt I will answer her letter soon, this time last year Till I was saying only another 20 days to Furlough what a difference this, never mind lets hope for better days in store and I trust it will be soon.
Now Till I must conclude hoping this letter finds you in the best of health and hope to hear from you soon remember me to all at home and I hope Mattie is still mucking in with the cold tea. I am gasping for a Dry Ginger I mean a pint and am just going to have a lovely drop of cold?? poured (?poarred) Tat Tar with fondest love and don’t forget to write back soon.
I remain
Your loving Brother
BID
– Scribbled in at the top of the letter “I have received Tom’s letter but wrote before I got same, he is lucky to get leave I wish I had been home till him I liked the pint he said he was making some Duff am I right love to all Bid
– and also” Have you seen in the papers what Gen S Dorrien Said to us when he inspected the bat just have a look in the papers”.
3rd December 1914
The Battalion was relieved by the Norfolks and they returned to Dranoutre. The Dorsets’ diary is very light on content at the moment. According to the CWGC 5 Dorset men died today. There’s absolutely no mention of this in the diary. It’s very strange.
This letter is, as my Great Uncle Geoff writes in his notes to the transcription, “his most gloomiest”. I don’t want to dwell on that today.
Instead let’s focus on the conditions facing him and the rest of the Dorsets.
The conditions in the trenches were dire at this time. A rapid thaw along with persistent rain, had turned the land to mush. Gleichen does an excellent job of describing the situation:
O that mud! We have heard lots about Flanders mud, but the reality transcends imagination, especially in winter. Greasy, slippery, holding clay, over your toes in most places and over your ankles in all the rest—where it is not over your knees, —it is the most horrible “going” I know anywhere. Whether you are moving across plough or grass fields, or along lanes, you are perpetually skating about and slipping up on the firmer bits and held fast by the ankles in the softer ones. There is no stone in the district, nothing but rich loamy clay, alias mud. However much you dig, you never come across stone, nothing but sticky mud which clings to your shovel and refuses to be parted from it — mud that has to be scraped off at almost every stroke, mud that absorbs water like a sponge yet refuses to give it up again. Every little puddle and rut, every hoof-depression full of rain, remains like that for weeks; even when the weather is fine the water does not seem to evaporate, but remains on the surface.
And when it rains, as it did all that winter (except when it snowed), the state of the trenches is indescribable. Some were, frankly, so full of water that they had to be abandoned, and a breastwork erected behind. But a breastwork is slow work, especially if you are less than 100 yards from the enemy. For weeks, indeed, the garrison of one particular trench had to lie out on the mud, or on what waterproofs they could get, behind a shelter two to three feet high—always growing a little, yet never to be made to a real six feet height for reason of conspicuousness and consequent clusters of Black Marias.
Frank writes that he’d rather have underwear sent out to him than jumpers and socks. He explains that he is proper “hitchey coo”.
The phrase hitchey coo is a popular one from the time. It was used as a term for itchiness, perhaps coming from the name for the itchy fibre inside rose hips used by kids as itching powder. It’s also used to describe small insects and stinging nettles. It was the title of a popular ragtime song at the time and it’s the title of a song in “Oh what a lovely war“, a satirical musical based on the First World War, later turned into a film by another of my London heroes, Len Deighton. It’s also a song by the Small Faces, a very London band. It’s one of my favourite songs. I am sure Frank would have approved.
Field Service Post Card franked 2 De 14 to Miss Crawshaw, 29 Strathleven
“I am quite well. I have received your letter, parcel. Letter follows at first opportunity” signed Frank and dated 2-12-14
2nd December 1914
Another service postcard means only one thing: Another letter is winging its way to Brixton.
Dorsets trench map – just north of Wulverghem – 2nd December 1914
The Dorsets were now in trenches just north of Wulverghem. It’s only a little way south east from where the Dorsets were last week. I found a map drawn by E.Rogers 2nd Lieutenant on the 2nd December 1914 and have done my thing to it. He’s written A Section at the top. I wonder if this means he is an officer in Frank’s A Company? If Frank is still in A Company that is.
E. Rogers remains a mystery. I have found his medal roll on Ancestry but I cannot find anything else about him at this time. Not even his first name. It’s the same with Captain R.E. Partridge. It’s a shame because it’s not the last we’ll hear from either of them.
The Dorsets’ diary reports a quiet day except heavy shelling in front of C Company’s trenches.
