'Tell them I have not kicked the bucket yet!'

Jim Swasbrick:
desperate to get
to the fighting

Continuing from my previous post, here are some more letters written by Jim Swasbrick, the WW1 Aussie soldier who was desperate to join the fighting but, to his frustration, was stuck in the relative calm of Egypt for much of 1915 and 1916. When he wrote to his sister in October 1915, he was full of disappointment having just been pulled out of a draft that was about to leave Alexandria for Gallipoli. The reason? Jim's experience with horses was too badly needed where he was - he served as a driver with the 1st Light Horse Brigade, AIF. As if this wasn't enough, his mood was darkened further by the miserable army food rations, lack of money, and biscuits so hard they had broken his teeth...


Heliopolis

17 October 1915

Dear Maggie

I am sending you some Xmas cards today. They are the only thing that l can afford to buy at present and l hope you receive them safely. Well Maggie l am very sorry to say l have not received the tobacco that you and Mary sent to me, it is the hardest thing in the war to get what is sent to you. The heads don't seem to care about complaints made through the papers every day but we can't get anything done for us, we can't even get butter or jam to eat now, we are on starvation rations, so l don’t know how they are going to keep us fit for fighting if they won't give us enough food to eat in this rotten hole.

Things are very quiet over hear [sic] now, nothing doing at all. It broke me up when l got stopped at Alexandera [sic] so l don’t care what becomes of me now. I thought l was right for the Dardenelles but a wire was sent to stop me there, so l have give up now, l don’t care if l never get there now. I toled [sic] the general he could  send me back home if he liked but he would not do that. I have been fourteen month in the army and l haven’t a mark on my crime sheet yet. But it won't be my fault if l haven’t got it full of crimes before another twelve month is over my head, while a man has got a good carictor [sic] he will never get away from hear. So l will see if l can get away by [making] a dam fool of myself.

I have not been too well lately but l am on the mend again. It is coming on winter again and their [sic] is sort of sickness going about especily Mederterrian [sic] Fever, it is very bad, l have missed it so far. I hope you won't delay in sending me some money for Xmas Maggie or l will have a starvation day. I had a good dinner last year but l had plenty of money then.

With fondest love to you all. Wishing you a merry Xmas and a happy New Year.

Heliopolis

28 January 1916

Dear Maggie

Just a few lines to let you no [sic] l am still alive and going strong. l wish l was on my way home instead of this letter, we are having a good time hear [sic] now as there is not much doing except the carting of fodder for the horse and that only takes half a day. There was a sports meeting ... today but l did not go down, l am getting too lazy to lace my boots up now, l will be too lazy to work any more after this [is] over. And l don’t think it will be very long, this spring will see the finish of it or l am a bad judge of war, [the] fighting is all in our favour.

Well Maggie l have got to ask you to send me another £10 if you will by cable as l have broken four of my teeth off eating those dam [sic] hard biscuits, false teeth is no good for them. I tried to get them from the milatry [sic] but they have that many to do since they [fellow Anzac troops] came back from Garlopoli [sic] that it would be months before l could get them, but they told me if l got them done privatly [sic] they would refund the money.

I hope you got the cusion [sic] cover l sent to you, I sent one for each of you [his sisters]. They were not much but l will take some nice pieces when going back, it is not worth chancing with dear stuff as it might go the same way as your parcel went. Well dear Sister l will close for this time, hoping it find you in as good a health as it leaves me. Remember me to all around home, tell them l have not kicked the bucket yet.

Jim couldn't wait to join his
fellow Anzacs at Gallipoli

NEXT POST: Jim's finally off to the Western Front

(Copyright © 2015 Jacqueline Wadsworth / Richard Crispin)

'Seven months on this desert is no joke'

Jim Swasbrick

Hello to all my readers and I apologise for having let a month elapse since my last post, but with a deadline looming I'm afraid I had no choice but to keep my head beneath the proverbial parapet in order to get my third book finished on time! I'm pleased to say that Weymouth, Dorchester and Portland in the Great War is now safely with the publisher (Pen and Sword Books - out in November 2015) and, for the first time in three years, my desk is clear of books to write!

My first two, Letters from the Trenches and Bristol in the Great War, were both published last year, and now that No 3 is off my hands I've had time to flick through the files of WW1 letters, diaries, photographs and postcards I've gathered during all my research and to marvel at (a) how much material from the Great War is still 'out there' in excellent condition, and (b) how sad it was that I didn't have the space to use it all.

But no worries! I now plan to let some of those letters and diaries run on this blog, as a sort of appendix to the stories told in my books. And who better to start with than a colourful Australian character called Jim Swasbrick who lost no time in enlisting when war broke out in 1914. Jim was part of a large farming family from the tiny town of Eskdale in the Mitta Mitta Valley in north-east Victoria. The farm wasn't large enough to support everyone so Jim took his horse team up to Queensland to work as a dam-digging contractor. And that's where he was when was when war was declared.

Jim enlisted immediately with the Australian Imperial Force, as a driver in the 1st Light Horse Brigade, and in 1915 he departed for Egypt. There he remained until 1916, becoming more and more frustrated at not being part of the action on the Western Front. 'Jim assumed, as they all did, that they were off to fight the 'dreaded Hun', but his unit was held in Egypt until after Gallipoli,' explained his great-nephew Richard Crispin. Jim Swasbrick did eventually get to France, but sadly he never made it back home again. His story is told in Letters from the Trenches, in Chapter 3 - 'Call to the Empire'.

Below are some of the letters Jim wrote to his sister from Egypt. They begin optimistically enough but it's interesting to see how soon frustration begins to creep in, about not being involved in the fighting, being out of touch with his family, and lack of money...

7th April 1915

Heliopolis, Egypt

My Dear Sister,

I received your ever welcome letter and was very pleased to hear from you. I wrote to you ten week ago and l was expecting a letter from you every mail. You stated in your letter that you had wrote before but l did not get it. Well Maggie I am having a good time in Egypt it is not a bad place to be in. I feel better now than ever I felt in my life. You will think l am a house instead of a man l am getting that fat, don’t be a bit surprised if l bring a little French lass back with me, there is some of the best looking girls ever I saw in my life in this place, there are no English girl here at all, they are all French, Greek and Italian. Very few of them could talk English till we came here but they soon picked it up ... There are some very pretty places here around this place, it is very interesting to see the different ways the people have hear [sic] and the way they do the cultivating, it is wonderful quite different to what we do it. I have met a lot of boys from different parts of Mitta [at home], Jim Larsen and Arch Drummond is hear with me so I am not alone. I will get my photo taken with my horse and send over to you all so you will have something to look at till I return again if l ever do ... Well Maggie l will close up for this time hoping you are keeping in good health as this leaves me in the best.

Goodbye Good Luck
Hope to see you all before long

Heliopolis

7th July 1915

Dear Maggie,

Just a few lines to let you no [sic] l am still living in hopes and longing for the finish of this weary war. It will be twelve months next month since l joined the army and l am getting sick of it now. If they would shift us to England it would not be so bad but seven months on this desert is no joke. I think if l am hear [sic] another seven months l will go silly. I had a letter from Emmie on the 4^th inst that she posted on the 14^th Jan, as you can see that l don’t get all the letters that is written to me ... Well Mag we received great news from the front, our boys have captured Aaha baba [Achi Baba Hill at Gallipoli] the rotten hill and forts that cost us so heavily so you will soon hear of them taking Constanternople [sic]. Well Maggie l think l have told you all for this time so l will close with love to you all hoping you are all in good health as it leaves me in the same & if you can send that money l would be very pleased of it as we may be going to England when Turkey is finished and two shillings a day is not much to go their [sic] with.

Good Bye

I remain your Loving Brother

Heliopolis

15th October 1915

My Dear Sister

Just a few lines in answer to your welcome letter. I was so pleased to hear from you again as l have only had two letters in three months from anyone at home. I can always get letters from other people regular every fortnight. So it is a bit hard, l wrote nine letters about three months ago, six was to my own people and the other to friends, the only answer l’ve got from home was your letter and three from friends, it makes me think l am still the black sheep but it won't matter, l will go through alright, what ever it be.
I did not get to the front the time. l left hear [sic], got down to Alexandera [sic] and l was pulled out. The OC [Officer Commanding] said he could not let me go as l was with the horse, men are very scarce over hear that no [sic] anything about horses so he said it is not possible for me to go to the front yet. So l have give up all hope of doing any fighting while their are any horses in Egypt.

Well Maggie l am very disappointed at not getting the money l asked you to send to me, l think it is a bit hard, if l did not want the money l would not send for it ... If you cant send it, post the money in the Commonwealth Bank of Australia, and ask them to forward it on, or any Bank manager can send it through with safety. Don't make any mistake about the address, just put:

Drv Swasbrick No 135

5th A.A.S.C.

Anglo Egyptian Bank Cairo

I hope you will send it through without fail as it is badly needed. If you can't send 10 pounds send twenty ... and send it Maggie like a good kid, it might be the last l ask for.

Good bye Merry Xmas to you all

NEXT POST: Jim's Christmas in Egypt

(Copyright © 2015 Jacqueline Wadsworth / Richard Crispin)

'Let us hope 1915 will see peace restored on Earth'

Madge Sneyd-Kynnersley

Let me introduce you to Madge Sneyd-Kynnersley of Weymouth, a lifelong diarist whose journals from 1914-18 thread their way colourfully through the book I'm working on at the moment Weymouth, Dorchester and Portland in the Great War. In 1914 she was in her early 20s and when war was declared she and three sisters volunteered immediately to work as Red Cross nurses.
This is how Madge summed up the year of 1914, a year in which the usual social routine of her middle-class family in the naval town of Weymouth was rudely interrupted by conflict:

1914 was on the whole a bad year.
The great European war began on Aug 4^th and so far Germany has had the best of it – has taken nearly all Belgium and a lot of Poland in spite of all the efforts of the allies – tho’ they say she is bound to be crushed – already the flower of England’s manhood has been killed and the war of the trenches seems endless.

'1914 was on the whole a bad year' - a page from
Madge's diary (Copyright: Sandes Family)

In the beginning of the year mother was constantly ill becoming worse and worse. In April however we got a trained nurse and after a week's care mother was completely cured. In the first 6 months of 1914 I got to know Spencer Russell [a naval officer whom she would later marry] very well and saw a great lot of him. I was only away 14 days this year, visitng family in Woburn in July, but this time saw the passing of peace and the beginning of war. By the time I returned to Weymouth the Fleet had been mobilised and Spencer and I did not meet again [until 1915] tho’ we wrote. After war began we all became Red Cross nurses and I nursed at Sidney Hall and Princess Christian Hospital – chiefly Belgians. 

In the summer the French Fleet paid a visit and the ladies of Weymouth gave a ball to them, also I went to a dance in the King George. We were also friends with the people in the HMS Superb (Maycock and Co) and saw a lot of them. I had 3 days in London and saw 3 plays there. Muriel Sargeant, Gladys Mayer, Enid Martyn and Violet Buck stayed with us. The last persuaded me to try and make peace with Uncle Abel by my attempt failed.

This year therefore was a patchy one – parts black and terrible – other parts unusually nice. Let us hope 1915 will see peace restored on Earth and the desires of all our hearts granted.

Madge's sister Sylvia was also a diarist, but her summing-up of 1914 was rather more pessimistic:

The year 1914 has gone. I hope I shall never know on like it, with such terrible times as I have been through. In the whole of time I think there has never been such misery as Europe has known. We can only wait for better times.

• Weymouth, Dorchester and Portland in the Great War is being published by Pen and Sword Books in October 2015

‘I spent my Xmas in the frontline trenches 100yds from the Huns'

As the first Christmas of the WW1 Centenary approaches, our minds turn to all those the Great War soldiers who had to spend 'festive' seasons at the Front, separated from families and often in pretty miserable conditions. With few exceptions, they tried to make the best of things and celebrate as best they could, as you can see from the selection of Christmas letters below. It's a subject I talk more about on a podcast recorded for December's Who Do You Think You Are? magazine, which you can listen to here

Sgt George Smith

Sergeant George Smith wrote this from the Western Front in December 1915 where he served with the London Scottish Battalion:

‘ I spent my Xmas in the front line trenches 100 yds from the Huns & it rained the whole time and the only people who were allowed shelters were the platoon Sgts & we were continually dodging in & out on patrol. I had a nice box from the firm [probably C&E Morton, the food canning factory in east London where he had worked as a clerk], our best brands of tinned fruits etc which I divided up amongst the platoon. … We are going to try & make up for a bad Xmas on Hogmanay but we go up the line again on New Year’s Night I believe...With reference to your question about cocoa etc. we all think cocoa is about the best thing anybody can send out to troops for it is so warming & a food in itself.’

Bert Smythe, of the Australian Imperial Force, sent this humorous epistle home from Milbank Barracks Hospital, London, December 1915:

'Well its Christmas night...In the morning we went to Church. HM Queen Alex was there. I didn’t approve of things at all. Too much blooming ceremony & show for my liking. After church we had to wait for a long while in one of the wards for the Queen. When she came she gave us each a photo of herself & King Ned. After that was over I found that someone had shook my brand new hat out of the cloak room where they made us leave them. I got a clue as to where it went but before I could see about it myself a mate who knew of my loss went & got it back – but somebody had kindly removed the badge bust them.

'Then we had a spanking Christmas dinner. Turkey being the item in chief. Two bottles of beer or stout for each man but I had an orgy all on my own with lemonade.'

Private Tom Fake, of the Rifle Brigade, sent this letter to his wife and young son from France a few days before Christmas Day in 1917:

‘We have had some very hard weather ever since I wrote you last, it must be cruel for the men up the line, but where we are to it is a pretty sight, all the trees are glistening white or at least it has been so up to this evening but since dark it has started thawing. We are keeping up Christmas day on Sunday (as we are going up the line again) and I think we shall have a fine time by what I can hear. I had a small parcel from the Dowsetts a few days ago, it consisted of a handkerchief khaki colour, and an oz of tobacco, very good of them wasn’t it.’

Not all soldiers were stuck at the Front for Christmas, the lucky ones came home on leave and in 1916 these were the excited scenes of homecoming described by the Bristol Times and Mirror:

‘All day the station was crowded with soldiers, coming and going and changing trains. The Christmas spirit was noisily evident, and the singing of snatches of songs, continuous. Never, surely, were trains more crowded, never were travellers more good humoured and content with their accommodation. The men got into the trains anyhow – some through the windows. They did not ask guards or porters to find them seats, but jumped into any compartment, not caring a toss whether they could sit or not...They did not mind so long as they got aboard and knew that they were going home.'

May I wish all my readers a peaceful and happy Christmas.

The Australians: a breath of fresh air in wartime Britain

In my last post I paid tribute to the Canadian troops who passed through these islands on their way to the Front, often taking locals by surprise with their brash ways.

In many ways the character of the Australian soldiers was similar, coming as they did from a young country where life could be harsh. There was even an element of competition between the two nationalities according to one London doctor. In a letter that is included in my new book 'Letters from the Trenches', he wrote of the Aussies:

The Aussies: 'A fine looking lot of men'

Their language may be coarse; but I must say that a finer looking lot of men I never saw. They are not only athletic looking and of good physique to a man; but 5 out of 6 are noticeably handsome, with fine features and clear eyes. I hear there is a good deal of jealousy between them and the Canadians.

When Australian soldiers arrived Britain it was for training, while on leave, or for hospital treatment when wounded and I'm sure it's true to say that most people found them a breath of fresh air. I noticed, almost without exception, that a well-developed sense of irony characterised the letters they wrote home and, as you can see from the extract below from my book, they seemed to write with a sense of fun and a twinkle in their eye:

Corporal Bert Smythe, from Sydney, made light of the uncomfortable, fly-blown conditions in Egypt as he waited to be sent to Gallipoli, writing reports for his family (complete with intentional misspellings) which must have had them in stitches:

March 1915

'If any norty words happen to appear you must please skip them. You see, the flies are the most persistent beggars that I’ve ever had the pleasure of squashing. The only thing, the beggars are so blooming lively & frisky that my poor cheeks are very red & very sore from the severe bombardment & the enemy’s casualties are dishearteningly small being one killed & 2 badly scared. The remaining 45,892,756,897 being merely amused.'

My next post will take us up to Christmas with some festive letters from the Front. In the New Year I'll resume the Colonial theme by paying tribute to soldiers from South Africa and India who fought with the Allies.

Brace yourself Britain, the Canadians are coming!

Proudly bearing arms, a battalion of the Canadian Expeditionary Force

This post is my small tribute to the volunteer soldiers of the Canadian Expeditionary Force who helped Britain fight the Great War. Their reputation as fighters was second to none and as they began arriving in this country on their way to the Front, disembarking from ships in in large numbers, loud, brash and eager, it was clear they would take some getting used to!

At the turn of last century we Brits were a modest, mild-mannered lot. We liked our homes and gardens, we had no wish to travel further than the nearest seaside resort, and most of us were quite happy to abide by the established Edwardian social order in which everyone knew their place. Such folk had departed Britannia's shores in their droves during the early 1900s to make a new life for themselves in Canada, but their sons who returned were a different breed completely. Coming from a country that was huge and wide open, many found Britain stiflingly small ... and weren't afraid to say so.

The extract below is from my new book 'Letters from the Trenches' and describes the arrival of George Lamb, a bank clerk from Kamsack in Saskatchewan, in 1916. A tougher character you couldn't wish to find, although he had plenty of charm too.

English trains 'sure were a joke' said George Lamb

Coming from a land of wide open spaces, everything about the ‘old country’ seemed tiny to Lamb and his fellow Canadians. When they arrived in Liverpool, they could hardly believe the size of the train and the box-like little carriages that awaited them: ‘Eight men were put in each contrivance and there you were shut off from the rest of the train in this stuffy little room, they sure are a joke, their engines are about the size of a threshing engine’ he wrote. Interestingly, an American airman, Ned Steel, used very similar words to describe his first impressions of Liverpool when he there landed in 1918, en route to France: ‘With a squad to each compartment on our funny little coaches we started across “Merry Old England”, the dinky little engine quite surprising us with its speed. What a beautiful country.'

Lamb wasn’t blind to England’s bucolic charm either and he acknowledged it in letters home: ‘The scenery is beautiful and trees are still quite green, the hedges are cut off by the men who own the land and kept in fine shape.’ But such descriptions were now and again tempered by coarser observations: ‘The streets and roads are so narrow a person can spit across them.’

Not exactly what we were used to, but his heart was in the right place! There are plenty more of Lamb's colourful letters in my book - details of which are at the top of the page on the left - but I should warn you that his story does not have a happy ending. In my next post I'll tell you what sort of impression the Aussies made.