A Postcard from Down South

This past week has been half term.  Well partly; it was for our youngest son.  Eldest son being at college in Yorkshire was on half term the week before, but since he's in Monday to Wednesday, we made a flying visit to the south coast for my Mothers birthday.

Like most seaside resorts Bexhill on Sea doesn't really suit the winter.  We normally visit for a week or so in August.  Now in late February, without the light and warmth of the summer sun, the windblown streets are quiet.  The cafes and restaurants that usually buzz with the activity of the city day-trippers, are dark and quiet.  They wait for the better weather along with the ever present Herring Gulls, circling on the strong sea breeze, mournfully calling to each other, denied the scraps of food provided by the careless summer tourists.

None of this bothers our Border Collie of course.  The chance to chase her ball on the beach is a rare treat.  She leaps in and out of the waves with careless abandon.  So much so youngest son has to wade into the water to retrieve her ball before it is carried away by the retreating tide.  He curses the dog, she wags her soggy tail, shakes out a mixture of water and damp sand and urges him to throw the ball once more.  At least he's finally cleaned his dirty shoes.

On Friday we make the pilgrimage to see my Nan.  Soon to be 97, living independently in the same house my Mother and her siblings were brought up in.  We have a birthday lunch with her and my aunt who lives a few miles down the road.  Nan is slowing down a bit, but she insists she's definitely not deaf as I have shout our family news to her.  She doesn't get up to the church as much as she used to, but the priest now comes to her once a week.  Almost everyone that walks past the house waves at her.  The old lady in her window is a fixture of Rye for so many, not just our large family that live nearby.

We take the chance to walk around the ancient town.  I have been coming to visit family here all my life.  The town has changed out of all recognition.  The shops are now catering for tourists more than locals.  As a kid, my cousin and I would frequent several of the shops on the High Street.  Woolworths, long since gone is a council office and library.  The banks have gone, as has Lipton's Grocers and Freeman Hardy & Willis shoes.  The bookshop remains, as does Adams.  When she left school, Nan got her first job working for the printers that was attached to Adams.  The shop with its large oak framed windows is a newsagents, stationers and most important for me growing up, a toy shop.  Walking in I remember the smell of the place.  It is almost the same as it has always been.  Copies of the national and local papers, magazines, pens, paper, envelopes and up the worn wooden staircase lots of toys.  I'm suddenly distracted by a family from the Midlands, clearly on their own half term holiday.  The children are running rings around their parents, wanting all the toys and threatening to combust if they don't get their own way.  Mum is trying to restore order with a mixture of threat and compromise in her broad Brummie accent, while Dad is wondering if it's worth trying to bribe the kids with ice cream from the kiosk across the road.

Adams of Rye

We wonder down to the Landgate, the surviving fortified entrance to the Town.  It's twin Strandgate was demolished in 1815 after falling into disrepair.  Where there was once a public toilet on the corner of Ropewalk is a Micropub.  As the drizzle begins to fall we hurry inside to find a spacious and busy interior.  It would be rude not to sample some local ale, and we are not generally considered rude.

Landgate, Rye

We walk back through the Market Carpark and past the railway station.  Further on is the Pipemakers Arms, favourite watering hole of my late Grandad, quiet on this damp Friday afternoon.

Saturday finds us visiting Hastings.  We decide to take advantage of the £2 bus fare cap and catch the 99 from the end of the road.  The top deck affords a glorious view of the sea.  Grey outlines of ferries and container ships can be seen on the horizon.  Boulogne is 45 miles away across the channel, tantalisingly out of reach.

Hastings is busier being a weekend.  Youngest son and I go in search of a Saveloy.  This bright red sausage has always been a firm favourite of mine but you just cant find it here in Yorkshire.  My wife and eldest son are less keen on them and visit a well known bakery chain for lunch instead.  We enjoy a drink at a what appears to be an Elizabethan Inn, but was in fact built in 1947 using bomb damaged materials.

Returning on the bus we are reminded why we usually drive.  

Now I like buses.  Growing up in London I would travel on a Routemaster almost everywhere.  You could happily watch the world go by from the top deck, even if the smokers made the view a bit foggy.  The conductor selling purple ink tickets from his Gibson machine.  The mothers prams tucked in the cupboard below the stairs.  The bell string along the cabin ceiling.  Nowadays of course buses only have drivers, there's no smoking thankfully and you pay by contactless card.  The quality of some of the passengers however leaves something to be desired.

AEC Routemaster the backbone of London's Buses from 1956 to 2005

A father and his friend join us with their small children on the top deck.  They swear continuously at the children for not being grateful enough for the day out they've enjoyed at the seaside arcades.

"I'm not f*****g taking you anywhere again."

"Don't eat all them sweets, you'll have f*****g dodgy poos all night."

Meanwhile a teenager in the front seat with black hoodie over his head and his feet up on the rail gets a phone call.  He puts it on speaker of course, it's his Mum:

"Where are you?"

"What?" he shouts.

"I said where are you?"

"What?" louder this time.

"Where are you!?"  Mum is exasperated.

"Glyne Gap."

"I'm going to Eastbourne so I won't be at home."

"Are you driving?" The lad is after a free trip with Mum.

"No I'm catching the train."

"Oh, right never mind."  He hangs up.

The more respectful passengers roll their eyes.  Thankfully we arrive in Bexhill and escape the circus.

We spend our last evening in Sussex drinking wine and enjoying a good laugh with Mum.  She'll miss us when we go, the boys particularly, but my Brother and family are booked in for Easter which is only six weeks away.  She needs that time to recover.

We returned on Sunday evening, a six hour drive unusually for us not disrupted by traffic.  

Arriving home we discovered that the bathroom drain was blocked.  We should have stayed on the coast.

The Battle of the Somme: The Terrible fate of the Newfoundlands

Barbed Wire on the Battlefield at Beaumont-Hamel

The Battle of the Somme is arguably the most infamous battle of the First World War.  Considered as perhaps the definitive battle of the war, the images of mud and death are some of the most powerful in recalling the horror and futility of the conflict.

On the first day alone, the British Army reported 57,000 casualties, still the deadliest day in its history.  By the battles end some 141 days later, over 3 million men would have fought along the 25-mile front.  Over a million would be killed or wounded for an Allied advance of a mere 7 miles into German territory.

There are many museums and memorials along the Western Front.  The multitude of cemeteries, are a stark reminder of the human cost of the war.  One particular memorial, at Beaumont-Hamel, just north of the town of Albert, tells the story of the Newfoundland Regiment and their tragic contribution on that sunny summers Saturday morning of July 1^st 1916.

Newfoundland Memorial Beaumont-Hamel

Newfoundland in 1914 was a Dominion of the British Empire and not yet part of Canada.  The population was rural and numbered just 240,000. The largest settlement as it is today was St. Johns with just 32,000 inhabitants.  Nevertheless, showing the same sort of enthusiasm as found across the British Empire, the Newfoundland Regiment was formed shortly after the outbreak of war.  After training in Britain, the 1000 troops were posted to support the Gallipoli campaign.  Then following a period of leave they were posted to The Somme.

The battle itself began at 6am with a prolonged artillery barrage which continued for an hour.  At 7:20am a mine was detonated beneath the German defensive position on Hawthorn Ridge, just to the west of Beaumont-Hamel, creating a 40-metre-wide crater.  Ten minutes later at 7:30am the troops went over the top.  The 10-minute delay had given the German defenders time to prepare for the advancing troops, and their advance faced a fierce barrage of machine gun and artillery fire.

Due to confusion, Allied commanders believed the advance had been successful and ordered reinforcements to push forward.  The Newfoundlands were given the order to advance at 8:45am.

Finding it impossible to advance along the communication trenches due to the number of wounded men, the order was given to advance on the surface.  German guns cut most of them down before they had even reached the front-line trench.

Survivors tried to push on.  The initial allied artillery barrage had destroyed any cover for the advancing men, save for a petrified Apple Tree, later to be christened “The Danger Tree.”  As men made to use the meagre cover, they were easy targets for the German gunners and many died beneath its branches.  Those that made it further were to find the German positions heavily fortified, and would perish in the barbed wire defences.

The Danger Tree

By 9:45 the attack was abandoned, and the few survivors made their way back to the Allied front line.  One man, Private James McGrath, spent 17 hours in No Man’s Land before managing to make it back to the safety of the allied trenches.  Badly wounded he had crawled a mile across the battlefield.  In an interview by the Newfoundland Quarterly he recalled that “The Germans mowed us down like sheep.”

He was one of the lucky ones.  The Newfoundland Regiment had gone into battle that morning with 780 men.  In just an hour 670 were killed or wounded.  At roll call the next morning only 68 men answered.  The regiment had been effectively wiped out, suffering a casualty rate in excess of 85%.  Indeed, only the 10^th Battalion West Yorkshire Regiment suffered greater losses in their attack at Fricourt, just to the south of Beaumont-Hamel.

In the aftermath, Beaumont-Hamel became a quiet part of the front.  Commanders had realised that the German positions here were too well fortified to be attacked successfully.

In 1921 the battlefield was purchased by the government of Newfoundland in order to build a permanent memorial to the fallen.  In 1925 the Newfoundland Memorial Park was opened by Field Marshall Earl Haig.  Since the confederation of Newfoundland with Canada in 1949 the site is maintained by the Canadian Government.

The centrepiece of the memorial park is a Bronze Caribou statue that looks across the battlefield.  It stands on a mound of Newfoundland Granite, imported specifically for the memorial.  Additionally, there are three cemeteries inside the park, containing the bodies of 700 of the fallen.  There is also a memorial to the 51^st Highland Division that fought here in the later years of the war.

The park also contains the preserved remains of the Allied and German trenches, and a reproduction “Danger Tree” in No Mans Land.  It is possible to walk across the battlefield and remember those men who lost their lives during the battle.  Perhaps the most haunting experience is to stand in the German trenches looking back towards the Allied front line.  From here it is possible to imagine how easily the Germans were able to inflict such devastating losses on the advancing troops.  There is a clear view across No Man’s Land, and as you watch other visitors emerge from the Allied trenches, they are easy targets for the machine guns that defended the position.

The visitors centre contains displays describing the history of the Newfoundland Regiment and their role in the Battle of the Somme.  From here it is possible to arrange a guided tour of the park.  These are provided by Canadian students that spend a year in France as part of their studies.

Access to the Newfoundland Memorial Park is free and the park is open at all hours.

Restricted opening hours apply only to the Visitor Centre as follows:
Open Mondays 11.00 - 17.00 hours; Tuesday - Sunday 09.00 - 17.00 hours

For information or reservations for guided tours contact:

Address: Beaumont-Hamel Newfoundland Memorial, Rue de l'Église (route D73), 80300 Beaumont-Hamel, France

Telephone: +33 (0)3 22 76 70 86

Email: beaumonthamel.memorial@vac-acc.gc.ca

Website: www.veterans.gc.ca Beaumont Hamel

Bentham’s Nuclear Bunker

On the moor between High Bentham and Clapham there used to be a secret military installation. Part of a national network whose purpose was to assist in the defence against nuclear attack, this is the story of Bentham’s Nuclear Bunker.

Following the First World War, the government concerned about the threat of attack by enemy aircraft, formed the Observer Corps. This new force was made up of local volunteers spread across the whole country. Their job was to recognise and identify hostile enemy aircraft flying overhead.

Observation posts were built on open and high ground. In more urban areas high buildings would be chosen, including one on the Brunswick Tower of Windsor Castle. These posts would usually be wooden or concrete platforms protected by sandbags. Each post would be manned by a minimum of three observers and would communicate to one of 39 control centres by telephone.

By the time of the Second World War, there were over 1500 observation posts, manned by more than 100,000 volunteer observers. Whilst the Chain Home radar system could track the approach of enemy aircraft, once over the coast it was these volunteer posts that played the vital role in monitoring aircraft movements. The Corps were bestowed with the Royal title by King George VI in 1941 in recognition of the important part they had played during the Battle of Britain.

A typical observation post c1939.

Following advances in aircraft and tracking technology, the need for visual identification of aircraft was much reduced. As the Cold War intensified the government decided to modify the role of the ROC to help with defence against Nuclear attack.

Between 1958 and 1968 the traditional observation posts were replaced by sub-surface reinforced concrete bunkers at a cost of around £5000 each. This created a network of 1563 bunkers built around eight miles from each other right across the UK. These were excavated to a depth of 25 feet. Inside was a large room containing detection apparatus, canvas chairs, desk and metal bunk beds. A smaller room with a chemical toilet cubicle was attached. Electric light was provided by a 12 Volt car battery, that could be charged from a small petrol generator. On the surface there were two ventilation ducts and a single hatch to access the bunker via a steel ladder.

Cross section of a typical bunker.

Each post would be manned by three observers, still local volunteers. Their task was to detect the size and direction of any nuclear blast and monitor the radioactive fallout. It was anticipated that the crew would need to remain underground for at least 21 days after an attack. The conditions could only be described as cramped, cold and damp.

The bunkers were grouped into clusters of between three and five, with one designated as a master. Bunkers communicated with the master using standard telephone lines, one of the best ways to identify one is a line of redundant telegraph poles that stop in the middle of a field. The master bunker was also equipped with radio communications in order to contact the regional control centre.

By 1968 the government had decided that the Cold War had begun to thaw, and the threat of nuclear war had eased. Many local areas were beginning to have trouble recruiting enough volunteers to man the bunkers in any case. The decision was taken to reduce the number of posts and the number was slashed by more than half. The remainder stayed in service until 1991 when the ROC was finally disbanded and all the observation posts closed.

A large number of the bunkers were filled in and demolished. Many of the sites were bought by mobile phone operators as their strategic locations on high ground were ideal for cellular radio masts.

Which brings us to the fate of the Bentham bunker. It was located on the side of the B6480 Clapham Road, just short of the Greystonegill Lane/Nutgill Lane crossroads. It closed in 1991 when the ROC was disbanded, and was finally demolished in 1997 when a mobile phone mast was built on the site.

Site of Bentham Bunker today.

Most of the neighbouring bunkers in the cluster have suffered a similar fate. Caton was located next to Bull Beck Picnic Site. It closed in 1968, and the bunker became a septic tank for the picnic site. The bunker at Settle was closed in 1991 and was located in a field between Anley Hall Nursing Home and Lords Close. It was demolished and nothing remains. At Horton-in-Ribblesdale the bunker was just north of St. Oswald’s Church. It closed in 1991 and has also been demolished.

However, the master station at Kirkby Lonsdale survives. It is located in a rectangular fenced compound next to the new Oakfield Park housing development adjacent to the QES Astroturf. Although it too closed in 1991, the surface features are still clearly visible. So next time you do the school run or go shopping at Booths in Kirkby, spare a thought for the brave volunteers of the ROC who manned the all the observation posts to help defend the country. The hatch is however firmly locked.

Kirkby Lonsdale Observation Post.

Crickets Greatest Comeback: Warwickshire v Hampshire 1922

 

Edgbaston Cricket Ground, Birmingham

If cricket teaches anything it must be the lesson that the game is never over until the final wicket taken or the final run scored.  There have been memorable matches where teams seemingly up against the odds have managed to salvage unlikely results.

Many of these remarkable matches are spoken about fondly, and as television cameras have been in attendance, many of them can be relived.  Headingly 1981, Eden Gardens 2001, Cardiff 2009 and Headingly again in 2019 spring to mind immediately.  However, June 2022 will mark 100 years since the most remarkable comeback of them all.

Following the First World War, cricket as with most of society in England was rebuilding from the loss of so many young men.  The English Counties were headed by the powerhouse professional teams, Yorkshire, Lancashire, Nottinghamshire and Surrey.  The rest including Hampshire and Warwickshire relied on a nucleus of high-quality players and others kindly described as ‘making up the numbers.’  

In 1921 Warwickshire had finished next to bottom of the championship, which then was a single division rather than the two we have today, above only first-class newcomers Glamorgan.  Hampshire by contrast were competing with Kent as “the best of the rest” behind the four leading counties.

The fixture between the sides at Edgbaston began on 14^th June 1922 under sunny skies.  Contemporary reports say that the pitch was damp, but dried quickly.  Hampshire’s captain Hon. Lionel Tennyson, grandson of the illustrious poet, won the toss and invited Warwickshire to bat.

They mustered a creditable 223 all out.  Top scores came from captain Warwickshire captain Freddie Calthorpe with 70 and Santall with 84 made in sharing a stand of 122 for the fourth wicket.

Hampshire had bowled the weaker side out in 55 overs, and now with the pitch dry and the weather set fair, they expected to build an impressive and commanding total.

At 4pm the opening partnership of Boswell and Kennedy began the innings.  They were both to become the first of eight batsmen dismissed without scoring, as Hampshire were dismissed in the ninth over of their innings for just 15 runs.  The Warwickshire opening bowlers Howell and Calthorpe got the new ball to swing and picked up 6-7 and 4-4 respectively.  The Birmingham Post reported that the Batsmen got into a “funk” and that every possible chance was taken by Warwickshire.  As a result, just 40 minutes after they began, Hampshire were invited to follow on with a deficit of 208 runs.

At their second attempt the Hampshire batsmen managed to reach 98-3 at the close, with captain Tennyson unbeaten on 17.

Resuming on the next morning Hampshire progressed to 127 before losing their first wicket of the day.  Still 81 behind much now depended on the captain.  He was the next to depart however for an aggressive 45 leaving his side at 152-5 a deficit of 56.

They were soon 177-6 as Mead was caught and bowled by leg spinner Billy Quaife.  Hampshire’s hopes now lay with George Brown, averaging just 15 for the season at this point. 

He batted with patience completing his half century after two hours of diligent defence.  He shared an 85-run partnership with W.R. Shirley to take the total to 262-7 a lead of 54.  Brown was able to complete his 185-minute century but the score was 274-8 at tea, a lead of 66 with plenty of time left for Warwickshire to compete an inevitable victory.

Hampshire’s next batsmen was Lionel Tennyson’s Valet and their wicketkeeper Walter Livesey.  This was to be the pivotable partnership of the match.  By the time Brown was dismissed for 172, they had shared in a ninth wicket stand of 177 runs in just 140 minutes.  The score was now 451-9, a lead of 243.

Was this stand just down to good batting by Brown and Livesey?  Or perhaps the Warwickshire bowlers had started to lose some potency.  Maybe the Warwickshire team so unfamiliar with winning matches against strong opposition began to suffer the self-doubt that can affect teams in such a position.  The truth may be a combination of the three, but the damage had been done, Hampshire had now taken control of the match.

Livesey though was not finished, batting into the final morning, he completed his century, finishing 110 not out, before last man Stuart Boyes was dismissed after a stand of 70.

Hampshire were finally dismissed for 521, setting Warwickshire 314 runs to win in five hours.  Despite resistance from E.J “Tiger” Smith scoring 41 and Billy Quaife with 40, Warwickshire were never really in the hunt.  They were dismissed for 158 in 68 overs to lose by the margin of 155 runs.

Will we ever see such a dramatic turn around in a first class match again? Probably not. Keep watching though as one thing is certain.  We just might.

The Body In The Cave

Above Clapham Village is Trow Ghyll. This wooded limestone ravine in the heart of the Western Dales hides a secret. In the summer of 1947, in a small cave now known as Body Pot, human remains were discovered. Those remains are unidentified to this day.

Sunday 24th August 1947 was a warm late summer day. Two friends, Jim Leach an electrician from Great Harwood Lancashire, and Harold Burgess a motor engineer from Leeds, both members of the North Pennine Club, one of the oldest Caving clubs in England, were planning on exploring the area to find new entrances to the famous Gaping Gill cave system.

At approximately 12:30 that afternoon, they discovered a small opening partially obscured by stones. Investigating further Leach moved the stones to be able to gain entry to the cave. After climbing down about ten feet, he first saw a pair of shoes. Looking further he discovered a skull and the rest of a body. It was in a state of advanced decomposition with hardly any flesh remaining. Burgess also noticed that there was a small bottle of white powder next to the body.

The friends returned to Clapham to report their find, and were then accompanied back to the cave by Police Sergeant Nock of Ingleton. The remains were removed by the police the following day to Skipton Mortuary and the effects found with the body, sent to the forensic laboratory at Wakefield. The police assured the community that foul play had been ruled out as the cause of death.

An inquest was held at Skipton Town Hall in front of Coroner Stephen E. Brown on 25th November. Both Burgess and Leach gave evidence, as did the Police.

Evidence from the post mortem that took place on the 26th August was given by Professor P. L. Sutherland. The remains were described as being those of a man 5’5 ¼” tall, aged between 22 and 30 years. Death was estimated at having been between two and six years previously, and the bones found were not considered to have been a cause of death, since they were neither broken or diseased. The clothes had rotted to the point where they were difficult to distinguish.

Forensic evidence was given by Mr Lewis Nickolls from the North East Forensic Science Laboratory. The clothes were identified as a blue shirt and tie, a grey blue suit with red and white stripes, a tweedy herringbone overcoat, grey trilby hat and plum coloured scarf. The deceased hair was described as being light brown or auburn in colour.

Amongst the possessions discovered was the glass bottle spotted by Burgess. It was found to contain Sodium Cyanide, a lethal poison. The bottle was described as “full to the shoulder” but Nickolls was of the opinion a lethal dose could have been extracted. Also found was an unbroken ampule also containing Sodium Cyanide, and 11s 5 ½d, with no coins newer than 1939.

Also found were two pairs of shoes made in 1938 and 1939. A mineral water bottle of a type supplied to hotels in Morecambe, Lancaster and Ingleton, containing a blue crown top not introduced until 1940. On the basis of this evidence, Nickolls believed the date of death to be no later than 1941.

Other items included a wristwatch, handkerchief, shaving tube, studs, toothbrush, fountain pen, propelling pencil, compass, box of matches, tablets, torch and toiletries. A key was also found but the police could not identify the lock it opened.

Following publicity at the discovery of the body, several people came forward to link missing relatives to the remains. The police compiled a list of eighteen possible suggestions. On investigation four were discovered to be alive, ten were eliminated as having no resemblance to the remains. Of the four remaining it could not be said conclusively if any were the man. A verdict of insufficient evidence was returned as to cause of death and the identity of the remains.

Since the inquest there has been much speculation as to the identity of the Trowl Ghyll body. Was he a German spy? Had he committed suicide to escape capture? Had he been murdered? Had the man died in a tragic accident? Was this a similar to the recent case of David Lytton, the man that travelled from London to Manchester to later be discovered on Saddleworth Moor in 2015 having committed suicide?

The spy theory is the most romantic explanation. The enemy agent, possibly with the authorities on his tail hides out in the wilderness and with no chance of rescue. He has no escape and as authorities close in he commits suicide. Sadly, this does not stand up to scrutiny.

Whilst it is true that Cyanide ampules were issued to covert agents during the war, Sodium Cyanide was widely used as a poison for vermin at that time. In addition, documents discovered after the war from German Intelligence do not support the spy theory. Around 115 enemy agents were sent to Britain during the course of the war. All were successfully captured by MI5 with the exception of Willem Ter Braak, who committed suicide in Cambridge in 1941.

What about the murder theory? Since Leach and Burgess had to move rocks to enter the cave, could this suggest unknown assailants had dumped the body and tried to conceal it? But then why would the body be found not only with extensive possessions, but a reasonable amount of cash. Eleven shillings is the equivalent to around £30 today.

The most likely explanation would seem to be suicide. Perhaps the man had received his callup papers and did not want to go to war. Perhaps he was in love but had his heart broken. Perhaps he had committed a crime and was trying to avoid justice.

Whatever the theories, unless there is more evidence still to be discovered, the mystery will remain. The story of the body in the cave will probably be forever unsolved.