Showing posts with label Southampton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Southampton. Show all posts

Sunday, 17 July 2016

Poem ~ Private Brown Aged 16 - Monday, 17 July 1916

Impression sketch for Private Brown aged 16

While well known how youth
Was keen to take part in war,
With older peers or brothers -
Determination was told of one
Particular boy, Fred Brown.

Home of the family was Gould
Road, Twickenham - August
1914 saw young Fred Brown
2 months after he turned 16 - 
His older brother was aged 17.

Already in the army, stationed
At Gibralter, the older Brown's
Battalion returned to Hounslow,
Ready to go to France - at a time
When volunteers were drafted.

Fred Brown was among those
That wanted to go and fight
But due to his age, unaccepted.
Yet 'no' was not an option for
This boy, who followed the draft.

As they collected their kit, Fred
Made a request that he might
Be allowed to join them - but
He was told he should stay; 
Only his brother was to go.

When the draft moved onto
The train station, Fred Brown
Followed - still, 'no' was not
An option - as the train pulled
Out, a carriage door opened.

Amid eager youths there was
A scramble to get aboard, Fred
Brown among them - already
Ahead at Southampton, a wire
Alerted the waiting authorities.

Having had their fun, the boys
Were rounded up - all except
Fred Brown - most likely helped,
He was smuggled to the boat,
Which set off across to France.

As they sailed, Fred Brown's
Civilian appearance and years
Gave him away - Fred aged
16 persisted, requesting that
He became an officer's servant.

Finally his desire was granted -
Over the next months of war
Fred recovered from shrapnel
Wounds - an eager, willing duty
Took Private Brown to Ypres.

During this time young Private
Fred Brown suffered in a gas
Attack, to leave him in serious
Condition - but as a soldier
He was ready for the Somme.

June 26 1916, close to his 18th
Birthday Private Fred Brown was
Killed, during a bombardment -
No mention of his brother, to say
Their father served on east coast.

By Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1916. 1916. British Boy's Courage - Killed On The Battlefield. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 17 July 1916. P.3. Col.7. Available at: <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12212090/Daily-Telegraph-July-17-1916.html> [Accessed: 17 July 2016].

Mann, J., 2016. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 17 July 2016). 



#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #WW1Somme

Sunday, 26 October 2014

Poem ~ Bringing the Wounded Home - Friday, 26 October 1914


Organisational pride is evident
In war time arrangements, of how
The wounded are received at home.
In illustration, it is with caution 
That any witnesses makes minimum
Intrusion, so as not to hinder 
The acting out of a smooth operation.

Possibly for this very reason,
Little has been said of the system.
Within Southampton’s vast docks,
At berth 23, a day is much like another.
Within the space where water laps,
An empty dock is not empty for long -
As before and since - on that still
October morning, came modest and large
‘Carrier Ships’ – rather than being
Hospital ships – In their conveying
Those injured from Belgium and France.

To carry out these continual operations,
Six ships are currently in service.
Some months before the prospects of war
All along the coast, services ships
Were visited and considered for adaptions
To needs of ‘Ambulance’ ships.

Soon the shape of an unnamed boat,
That wears the Red Cross emblem
About the mast and around the hull,
Settles into her moorings at Berth 23.
Prior to any disembarkation, preparations
Are made – then prompt at 9 a.m.
The moving of the stretchers begins,
By Khaki clad orderlies - seen as ominous
Are the parked lines of McCromack Carriers.

These conveyers balance on two wheels,
Of light rubber, with drop bars
At either end, to prevent tipping as stretchers
Are placed carefully upon them.
The Southampton dock is seen as adapted
Well, for the tending of the returned
Wounded - with a great spacious sheltered
Shed, so that the injured are kept under cover
As they are moved across to the trains,
Which are waiting for them on the other side.
On that occasion, the trains were heading
For destinations of Sheffield and York.
Being a long journey, the North Western
This train was the first to embark.

Still the ship unloads – a non-commissioned
Officer gives directions with arms out;
‘Walking cases, single file. This way.’
A procession starts of cases
Displaying Injuries to hands, arms or heads –
Some use crutches, or sticks,
Or helped by orderlies - while other men limp
Ashore – the witness sees strained looks,
Looking into the distance, as if still on watch
For any distant or invisible enemy.

The press ganged ship is devoid of any fine
Fittings, perhaps looking a little sad.
Although there are still elements visible
Showing what had been dressed
As first and second class Saloons.
Every alcove or space was to be used,
For beds, with more beds put into tight rows. –
An appearance of an unnamed matron,
Of Queen Alexandera’s Imperial Nursing Service,
Explains the elements of medical supplies,
The use of dispensary and the general layout.

Strong and tender orderlies, escort the more
Serious cases to their stretcher.
Three Nurses drift about, in helping some
Serious cases, directing them
To the lifts that will convey them to the deck.
The valued lifts, that save
Painful movements of having to climb stairs.
Lifts ease the labours
Of the orderlies and nurses – notable is the
Silence of those that carry out their duties,
Whose footsteps make no sound,
On silent flooring - as in a library where valued
Items are moved, lifted and considered –

Over two hours the process made steady
Disembarkation, to total 370 injured soldiers -
Forty-three being officers.
With the last gone the unnamed ship,
Disembarks on another mission.
The mooring space not long empty, as another
Floats to land - this time with 500 soldiers.
Under the care of twelve nursing staff,
From the Territorial Nursing Service
And Army Nursing Reserves - led by two,
Army sisters, detailed to every ship.

This ship had five wards – the upper
Deck given to the officers, while cabins
House for slight cases and convalescents.
A grim part of the process is the red label.
Attached to the bed jacket of any man.
To give warning of a grave injury – any unable
To take long journeys, head for Netley.
These soldiers, gathered from the fields
Of battle, could collectively tell of the
Fighting narrative - men gathered from recent
Conflicts at Ostend, and an airman injured
By accident or the 9th Lancers that took
Part in a notable charge.

The trains that take the men are ready;
Individually dependent on their ownership.
For those taking men north to Glasgow
Or Aberdeen are more fully equipped
For longer journeys – the general requirements
Dictated by the Army Medical Department,
Struck up a contest, as to which company
Of the trains, can provide the best for them.
Cooks are employed that once catered
For the dining cars - they prepare everything
For the men including lots of beef tea.

Men transfer carefully to the new beds in train
Carriages, fitted with lower and upper berths -
As others that can sit or a use a leg rest, take
Space in saloon carriages - being so comfortable
The men declare they would like to travel further,
Never having such a luxurious ride before.

Each train conveys a medical team of two nurses,
And two medical officers – while ten nurses whose
Quarters are at Netley, can upon their busiest
Of days, or in taking long journeys, be housed
In prepared Southampton quarters. For their quiet
Efficiency the orderly staff of 120 men, all territorials,
Were congratulated by the Surgeon General.

One South-Western train leaves in direction
Of Tidworth – another Great Western train
Leaves for Cheltenham – there are also trains
Made of ambulance carriages that can be attached
To ordinary trains, or run as their own transport –
Owned by the war department whose special
Fittings, mean berths can be removed independently,
As onto ships, giving relief from minimal movement.

There are also needs of clothing for the soldiers,
Who have travelled straight from the battlefields.
In hurried needs of attending to injuries, uniforms
Have been cut-while some reduced to little more than
Rags by fighting or are covered in mud and blood.
Organised by a Major’s wife, Mrs Anderson runs
A small hospital within the docks - with given
Red Cross Supplies and gifts, to include slippers,
Socks, overcoats, cardigans, dressing gowns
And pyjamas - with each ship’s needs, requisitions
Are made, so each man can be properly attired.

A fund made by townspeople further provides
Cigarettes given out at every man’s arrival.
Until now the home coming of the wounded
Has been a process of little publicity
Carried out by teams of Doctors, Nurses and
Orderlies and ships bearing the Red Cross
Designed to give much relief and comfort
With every thought of efficiency and humanity.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1914. How the wounded Come Home. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 26 Oct. p.3. Col.2-3. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11186020/Daily-Telegraph-October-26-1914.html [Accessed: 26 October 2014].

Mann, J., 2014. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 26 October 2014). 



#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #ww1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered

Thursday, 21 August 2014

Poem ~ John Parr – First British Victim - Friday, 21 August 1914


On an August day the papers advertise the season,
How the holidays are in full swing by the silvery sea.
So as the public stroll at Folkestone, hardly aware of army
Departures from the dullish port of Southampton docks.
On ships of war ‘happy’ troops drift to Boulogne-sur-Mer.

Among such positive soldiers, leaving in the holiday season,
Was Private John Parr - ironically for his age called ‘Ole Parr’ -
Among his mates the mood was good, despite a quiet departure.
No band played, no flowers thrown with ladies to see them off
This was it, after so much talk of war they were heading to the fray.

Barely 18 years of age Parr joined the 4th Battalion of the Middlesex
Regiment - Perhaps then realising he was a cog in a machine.
5ft 10 inches, brown hair and eyes, Parr had a streak of independence.
This must have seemed a long way from his golf caddie days.

What then filled the minds of these men as they neared the edge
Of war. Leaning on the rails, looking over an expanse of silver sea
Were these keen adventurers, tempered by some small trepidation?
Next being packed into troop trains, winding from France to Belgium
This was a professional army; this was the job waiting for them.

Amid this eager company our Private Parr acted as a reconnaissance
Cyclist, as part of the forward Unit heading to a town called Mons.
Beside a canal some 12 kms from that town, they billeted in Bettignes.
Dawn - 21 August, was not to be an ordinary day for Parr.

Now given a task with a fellow cyclist, he was to be sent to Obourg,
Near the Belgium border, east of Mons-their mission, to find any enemy.
It seems today almost a sign of a silly season, to go for a cycle ride,
With a rifle on a shoulder on a summers day, not for pleasure or race,
In the knowledge of their likelihood to encounter dangerous invaders.

So follows an account, based on suggested fact of what likely happened.
Parr, and for the sake of this account, his colleague we shall call 'Albert',
Were biking along. For some time seeing nothing but contemplative quiet
Country of green, trees, birds and sky, they believed almost like England.

Perhaps they came round one narrow corner when they faced the foe -
At a dreaded short distance ahead, the greys of a German cavalry patrol.
On rattling bikes Parr and 'Albert' wobbled almost comically to sudden halt
Our Private John Parr caught a sudden loss of breath. Having joined
The Middlesex Regiment in 1912 he had never seen any foe so close –

Face to face, each side probably stopped, considered poised and stared,
Probably only for seconds, upon seeing the uniform of their opposition,
One emerging from a tunnel of trees, the other on bicycles down a lane.
The German grey realising these were not blue and red Belgium types,
But khaki British – in a splitting second 'Albert' yelped out a warning.

Parr for a long moment stared, observing a rifle lift in a German’s hands.
'Albert' was already turning his bike around - poised on the pedal.
Parr followed, fumbling with his feet, in a panic moment loss of balance.
Jumped the bike about, just as the crack of a first bullet shot, swift by.

'Albert' stopped, waiting for his mate, hesitating a pace behind him.
‘Go on! Go on!’ yells Parr. ‘Get a shift on Bert!  Get going sharpish,
And tell'em that he enemy’s here!’ Parr’s mind must have raced
With what he was going to do? Ride or fight? – a bullet zinged as it hit
His mate’s bike. Parr yelled again to get going and off 'Albert' sped.

Another bullet sparked his own bike as he sped a few yards
About a sharp corner, he leapt awkwardly from his bike,
Landing by a neat cut hedge - possibly where he lost his cap.
Dropping his rifle, he reached for it and felt the zing of a shot.

He was not hit but self conscious to fight, he had yet to fire back
Shrinking back into pathetic cover, Parr became aware of someone
Behind – He saw a small girl in a blue dress with brown ringlets
She stared – In meeting of eyes he snapped ‘go!’ waving a hand.

But still she stood quizzically, as if the shooting meant little to her
Other than a local hunt – John Parr yelled again and from the house,
A woman screamed, running outside. Soldier, woman shared a look,
And a bullet ripped through the hedge into our young Parr’s shoulder.
Blind to any pain for the first time squeezing the trigger, he fired back.

The distraught mother pulled her daughter back towards the house.
Parr considered how the enemy were edging forward very slowly.
They did not know how many of the unexpected British there were.
He gave them rapid fire, changing the angle of his aim so quickly,
In the attempt to suggest that a whole load of others were with him.

The enemy were weaving down the narrow road, closing in, closer.
He took another shot, to the left and right - hearing a German yell
Suggesting that one of the enemy had been hit and now fell.
In the neat garden Parr lay stretched - his fire held them at bay.

In the small brick house behind him, the woman and child hid.
Parr found the neat grass was cool against his firing hand.
They were closing in. He edged back, knowing of little time
To do something, now that 'Albert' was safely gone -
There was the shelter of a brick house – but the girl and woman
Were safer without him - there was a field beyond the garden,
With trees at the edge to hide - he would have to run fast and hard.

He fired his rifle to gain him a little time, then he quickly stood
Holding up his rifle to aim at the man, who aimed at him.
An odd looking man with pointed helmet and a heavy moustache.
At the close focus of his stern face and his eyes down the barrel,
Private Parr did not hesitate; his finger pulled the trigger to see
Both barrels flashed. Then came the thud of dulled pain.
Knocked from his feet, his hands flexed and dropped his gun.

The German face looked down at him blankly then took his gun.
The woman appeared, hand over mouth in horror. The German
Glanced at her then left, calling to his comrade of what was done.
The firing stopped as the Belgium woman ran to this young soldier.
She knelt to him, gently reaching and touched his pale forehead.
Her soft words came as he tried to talk, despite his bloodied mouth.
But neither understood. The little girl ran to them despite her mother.

Private Parr spying two angels against a clear blue sky, tried to smile.
At their feminine faces and concerned voices, gently fading away,
As if they were the ghosts of something he would never have.

This account is pure conjecture, of young John Parr
Believed to be the first British soldier to die in World War 1.

The retreat from Mons meant there was no evidence
Of his death till later, with the suggestion he died
On the 23 August in the Battle of Mons, or perhaps
Under friendly fire. There now, he lies beneath this earth,
His place lays in the peace and quiet of St Symphorien.

Mistaken as 20 he takes his place a hundred years
To the day when a few words of commemoration from
Royalty, presidents, prime ministers and descendants
Recount a memorial of a young, brown haired lad
Called to war –
100 years ago.
Still a war to end all wars is yet to be found,
As the killing fields still grow around the world
Now terrorism rises in holy wars, finding victims
Other than soldiers who go to war, to help or report.
Almost on the same day as John Parr, James Foley,
Less than 2 days to a 100 years, is brutally killed -
Murdered in a cowardly way, in a so-called Holy war.

by Jamie Mann

Anon., 2014. John Parr (British Army soldier). Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. [online] 9 Aug. Available at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Parr_(British_Army_soldier) [Accessed: 21st August 2014].

Mann, J., 2014. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 21 August 2014). 

O'Brien, D., 2014. WWI Centenary: First casualty Private John Parr shrouded in mystery. Barnet & Whetstone Press. [online] 4 Aug. Available at: http://www.barnet-today.co.uk/news.cfm?id=26099&headline=WWI%20Centenary:%20First%20casualty%20Private%20John%20Parr%20shrouded%20in%20mystery  [Accessed: 21st August 2014].

Tourist Office of Mons. 2014. Mons 14 - 18 - Battlefield Guide. Mons: Office du Tourisme de la Ville de Mons.




#WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1 #WW1poem #GreatWar #ww1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #JohnParrWW1

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Poem ~ Casualties & Deception - Thursday, 20 August 1914


The first names of casualties of war,
Of officer ranks are accounted.
Not from fighting, but accidents,
With no details given of how, or why?
While two named officers with injuries,
Being sustained from motor incidents.

In contrast is an account of the rank of officer being impersonated -
Centres on a young man, described of gentlemanly appearance.
Creates for himself deep problems, which will see him imprisoned.
This young man named as Keith Arnold, had no current occupation,
A temporary resident at Hotel Richelieu on Oxford Street London.

Presenting himself at the Empire Music Hall, on last Saturday evening,
Mr Arnold being observed at 9.45pm, by a Lieutenant Edward Ridley,
Of the second Battalion of the Grenadier Guards-who surprised at an officer
Being present - noted that he was a second Lieutenant of the Royal Artillery.

Lieutenant Ridley had never seen a uniformed officer at the Music Hall,
Generally believing that officers attend entertainments in evening dress.
He spoke with a fellow officer, a captain, regarding his quiet suspicions,
Prior to Lieutenant Ridley approaching this ‘officer’ in the American Bar.

In conversation he requested if he had information that would be of interest
To a serving officer - The ‘Lieutenant ‘ was keen to declare he had sailed
From Le Havre to Southampton that very morning, by a loaded troopship,
On which were Black Watch survivors, injured at Liege and from Alsace
Were 10th Hussars - many were dying of wounds and many buried at sea.

The ‘Lieutenant’ added his experience as four years in the Royal Artillery.
Suspicious of his delivery Lieutenant Ridley told the officer as his superior
To accompany him to the war office - where upon further examination,
By Adjutant-General’s department, Mr Arnold confessed - the story untrue,
He was not an officer and had not travelled on any troop ship from Le Havre.

Mr Arnold explained how he had applied for various commissions,
Approaching several regiments but failed in gaining an appointment.
At the Alhambra on the Friday night he had seen several officers
Enjoying the night’s entertainment, not in evening dress but uniformed.
Mr Arnold dining on the Saturday, had much to drink with his friends.

Then, accepted into the Royal Field Artillery, he had been turned down
On reasons of his health - although he had purchased the uniform
In anticipation. After this disappointment he became on probation,
After a Territorial officer of the Royal Army Medical Corps saw kind,
To pass him as fit - while the account of the troop ship he had given,
Had come from an acquaintance, which he had believed to be true.

Mr Arnold made his mistake of repeating account in the first person.
After detention at Scotland Yard, he was told that he would go,
And the case dropped. Taken to his hotel he removed the uniform,
And had then made the sincere promise not to wear it again.
An emotional Mr Arnold confessed while he was ready to be punished,
The publicity would ruin him and his mother who was in poor health.

In his appeal he asked the magistrate to dismiss the summons,
Having already suffered through the process. The magistrate though
Was not so willing as Mr Arnold’s conduct appeared quite calculated,
And brought contempt on the king’s uniform - further the statement
About wounded dying men would only bring distress to both Hussars
And Black Watch relatives - so in judgment he was to be imprisoned,
For one month. The stunned, disconsolate Mr Arnold, looked up
To the gallery as left the dock, where a judgemental public hissed.

by Jamie Mann

Anon., 1914. False War Reports - ":Black Watch Cut Up" - A Bogus Officer Sentenced. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 20 Aug. p.2. Col.5. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11034630/Daily-Telegraph-August-20-1914.html [Accessed: 20th August 2014].

Anon., 1914. The First Casualties - Accidents to Officers. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 20 Aug. p.6. Col.6. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11034630/Daily-Telegraph-August-20-1914.html [Accessed: 20th August 2014].

Mann, J., 2014. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 20 August 2014). 



#WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1 #WW1poem #GreatWar #ww1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered