The hundred-year letter - William Button's First World War

One hundred years ago today, my great-grandfather wrote a letter to my great-grandmother, from an encampment in Palestine.  The year was 1915, and a young William H Button had volunteered to serve with the Royal Gloucestershire Hussars (RGH) during the First World War.  Having sailed to Egypt on the SS Themistocles, an ocean liner turned troop ship, William was one of the fresh wave of soldiers sent out to bolster numbers following severe losses sustained on the Gallipoli Campaign.

William Button in Palestine, First World War

"29th November 1915

Dear Hilda,

Have been on the move again.  We left the Bay 22 Nov for here arriving on 27th, when I wrote to you from Hyudroo [unknown place name.]  I had just posted it when we had orders to go up and join the first Regiment boys.  Well up we went, had been up with them just eight days when Lord Kitchener came, then we had to come down here, [just as] well as there was a rough wind going that day, we had to stop a day.  They land and embark all troops by cargo as the only large boats that go up are the battleships.  We came so far on there on the SS Themistocles.

Under canvas and on the banks of the River Nile with the largest of the pyramids to watch over us, the Sphinx is about two miles away so if I can [I will] find a piece for Dot [Hilda's sister - a teacher], as I guess it will interest her class to see a piece of these.  I am afraid the RGH are somewhat knocked about, we left a lot in hospital.  There used to be a man to a horse, now it is three horses for each of us to look after.  I hear there is another lot on the way, at  least I hope so.

I expect by the time you receive this it will be Christmas, I shall be thinking of your good people at 61, and hoping you will have a good time.

I see by the papers, which by the way are three weeks old, that things are not so bad, could be better of course, anyway please tell me as much good news as you can, I have not had a letter or P.C [post card] since leaving England, we expect a train in some time this week, so I am looking forward to one from you, the paper is well marked by the YMCA, so please excuse it as I have not unpacked my kit bag, and my pen and ink is in there.  I have not been into town yet, we have to obtain a pass, then it is eight miles to go in the car so will forward you a card from there, it is Monday now so it will be Sunday [day unclear] before I shall be able to have a pass.  How is Fred, has he left for abroad yet or is he still at doing it in Gloucester?  The 7th Gloucester were at Lemcos [unknown place name] the same day as us, there were several I could remember having seen at home.

The food here is better than we expected, of course nothing like home, the worst complaint is the sand, when the wind blows it is impossible to see a few feet in front, just like a fog and gets everywhere, we eat it in fact if we stay here long there will be no desert left, we are on the border of the Libyan Desert and every morning about 6am, go for a ride about ten miles, see some catacombs, I do not know what they are for, just ask Miss Dot - she will know - I hope she is alright, still busy.

Well I shall be glad when this scrap is over, have not been out here long but when thinking of home it makes me wish I was in England but I am afraid it will be some time before I return, well it is time I had some supper so must cease.  Wishing you all a Happy Xmas and best of luck for the coming year, 

Kind regards to all, 

Yours Sincerely, Bill"

William and his horse, Baby

During active service, William and his horse Baby would have undertaken reconnaissance and aggressive patrolling of Turkish forward positions.  The British campaign to defend the Suez Canal was centred on the town of Romani, from where William may have taken part in battles, including the Battle of Beersheba.  We also know that during one battle, William was shot in the leg.  Towards the end of the war, William's expertise in the railways saw him operate locomotives for the British Army.  William survived the First World War, however his army record did not, and we are therefore unsure of his exact movements during his time in service.

Oh what a night!

Well if it's November then it must be another birthday.  Lizzie made plans for me this year, but had kept everything very closely under wraps for what seems like forever.  This week it all came to light, and after a birthday morning of a quick breakfast and a little present opening, it was off to Exeter to catch the 10.25 to London Waterloo.  A whirlwind of an afternoon later, and following dinner in a delightful Italian restaurant (where I had courgette flowers on my pizza,) it was off to the West End, to the Piccadilly Theatre for the outstanding show, Jersey Boys.  For anybody unfamiliar, this is the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, and their rise from down-and-out Belleville to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.  A journey of humour, emotion, and hit-after-hit being smashed off the stage by the best vocals I've ever witnessed at the theatre.  Sherry, Walk Like a Man, My Eyes Adored You, Working My Way Back to You... the list goes on, and the tunes stayed in our minds - and I dare say, our dreams - for the rest of the night.

This treat wasn't the end of our trip to the capital though.  After a night in a little hotel on Gower Street, we awoke to find ourselves in the middle of attractive, affluent Camden, a lovely area full of "real London" scenes - big red buses splashing through the puddles, suited workers on their way to the office, tourists picking through the pavements whilst shielding themselves from the elements with over-sized brollies.  We made for the corner of Gower and Torrington, to the warmth and comfort of the five-storey Waterstones, the stunning type of bookshop that you only get in London, and somewhere in which I could have lingered for days.  Of course, I couldn't pass by without making at least a couple of purchases - a beautifully illustrated volume on Greek Mythology, a book for Lizzie called The Fox and the Star and, what is essentially a children's book, entitled L is for London.  There's something about this particular book that simply grabbed me - It is reminiscent of those childhood days when I made my first faltering steps in London, and the hours spent afterwards, poring over the map with amazement and wonder.  This book, some 23 years after that, just encapsulates everything that is London for me.

Lovely books from London (the Timeline book bought later from Foyles)

L is for London

The rain never stopped as we made our way to Somerset House, destination the south wing, for the exhibition TinTin: Herge's Masterpiece.  The exhibition explored the man behind the great boy detective through a series of original cartoon strips, sketches, watercolours and finished artwork, not to mention a few fabulous models.  Herge's fascination with architecture was immediately apparent, his eye for detail unsurpassed, his genius beyond question.  It all culminated in a brilliant recreation of Marlinspike Hall, Captain Haddock's ancestral home (see Red Rackham's Treasure,) with silhouettes of some of Herge's most memorable characters seen at the windows.  Professor Calculus, Bianca Castafiore, Thomson (but not Thompson)...  As is often the case with Herge, it is the subtleties that make the greatest pleasure.

Marlinspike Hall

 With time on our hands, and no desire to travel far, we next made for Russell Square and the always-fascinating British Museum.  As everybody knows, the artefactual wonders contained within its walls are second-to-none, and every gallery feels like a joy and a privilege to peruse.  We spent some time with the Ancient Greeks and the Egyptians, before moving onto the Assyrians and Middle East, which acted as a poignant and timely reminder that such ancient treasures are currently being torn to shreds and smashed to dust in that part of the world.  The sadness and horror the world shares at such news only strengthens the importance of world-class museums such as the BM - they preserve not only artefacts, but our entire human story.

Assyrian attendant god, 810-800BC

Tomb stela, 11th Dynasty, Year 14 of Montuhotep II, c.2041BC

Deciding not to use the Tube, as we did, really gave the opportunity to piece together the different parts of London that always appear so disconnected in our minds.  From Tottenham Court Road to Covent Garden, Russell Square to Somerset House, central London is an easy and accessible (if wet and busy) walk that is far more interesting and enjoyable than watching the blackness zoom past the window.  Crossing the enormity of Waterloo Bridge, with its views of Parliament, the City, and the ever-present Thames fading soulfully into the increasing drizzle of the evening, I very much got the sense of a city rediscovered, the London I visited when I was only 9 or 10 years old, back at last after so many years of frustrating crowds, high prices and general exhaustion.  Maybe I'm starting to chill out now I'm just that bit older, and can see the city in a different way.  It could be because we rejected the Underground and avoided the crowds.  Or perhaps the reason for my most enjoyable trip to London - ever - lies in the love shown towards me, by the wonderful lady who secretly booked it all up, picked the show she knew I was craving to see, and arranged it around an exhibition on one of my favourite book series.  Tonight as I write this blog, I feel so happy, so lucky, and so loved - and really, what else could anybody want for their birthday?

Drizzly London

Peace for Paris

This blog stands shoulder-to-shoulder with the people of Paris today, and with lovers of peace and freedom everywhere.  

The Prayer of St Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

Oh divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled as to console,

To be understood as to understand,

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Remembrance

Today we stop to pause and give our private thanks to all of those who fought and died in the armed forces.  Seven members of my family were involved, in some capacity, in the First World War.  Six survived their theatre of war - one was killed in action.  This blog is a tribute to all seven, in my thoughts today, along with the countless others who fought and died in that bloody conflict a century ago, and all wars since.  Cecil Major, William Button, Arthur Button, Tom Button, John Frank Turner, Walter Sillence, Frederick Sillence.  Remembered always for their service and sacrifice.

Poppies from a Battle-field

What where those red petals came?
Which burn their great, eternal flame?
Them from that place where fate was sealed,
Out yonder, on that battle-field.

And how got there, them crimson stars?
Where galloped once them brave hussars!
Seeds mingled with the blood of men,
What never made it 'ome again.

Them scarlet blooms, what gleam like ghosts,
Like tin-hat spectres, by their posts,
Or soldiers hidin’ in the trees,
What sway like spirits on the breeze.

I see a gunner; R.G.A.
A sapper on the railway,
A fresh-faced sergeant, Surrey-made,
Back ‘ome a grocer by ‘is trade

A young mechanic, oilin’ brakes,
Whose tunic now, a private makes,
An ‘orseman ridin’ 'cross the line,
In France, in Malta; Palestine.

I see infantry, rifles high,
An’ bay’netts pointin’ to the sky,
They charge, and pushin’ wave-on-wave…

I see a wreath laid on a grave.

What men were these what soldiered here?
What gave their lives – what paid so dear?
What scribed with history’s mighty quill,
Two words for us; “remember still.”

I see whence those red petals came,
Which burn their great, eternal flame,
A century on, this mem'ry sealed
By poppies from a battle-field.