Celebrating a new king

In one of Walter's letters, he recounts what he remembers about the death of Queen Victoria and the coronation celebrations for King Edward VII. His account gives some insight into life at the children's home and the way the children were included in celebrating a national event:

King Edward became King of England, and the event was celebrated by all the school children. My brother Bert and I were in the foster home where there were 20 other boys. The foster father’s name was Mr. Leeming, and together with his wife, they performed their duties very efficiently. They were very religious. Bert was now 13 years of age and I was 12 years of age. My father was in the infirmary close to our home, so we were able to go and see him fortnightly, on Sunday afternoons instead of going to Sunday school. Our foster parents were very strict, but not cruel in any way. Each morning, we would rise at 630 am, and prepared ourselves for the many little tasks that had to be done. We then assembled for breakfast, but before “Prayers” were said, Mr. Leeming told us the sad news of the passing of our Queen Victoria. (This was in 1901.)

Events happened quickly, which comes to the coronation of King Edward in 1902. We all wore our best suits to go to school. We had quite a distance to walk to our school, Owler Lane School in Pitsmoor. There were no trams or buses (nor any pennies to pay for our fares). Everyone had little flags, and there were large pictures hung up in our classrooms of our King. We all assembled to march to Firth Park where there was a huge sea of children’s faces in their respective places marshaled by the teachers. Bert and I were quite thrilled with all this ceremony. Our foster father told us we would have a late dinner when we came home from the ceremony. There were several bands around this vast park and the patriotic music was assisted by the singing of all those young throats. The conductor or the “compere” was assisted by large megaphones, so as to make everyone hear his commands.

Firth Park, Sheffield

It was a sunny day, and we all sat down on the grass. Everyone was very orderly. The band then began to play the chief tunes and the singing was most impressive to listen to. After the ceremony, refreshments were handed to each child and some sweets and a bottle of lemonade. This was something out of the blue for me, and lastly, before we dispersed, we were all given a Coronation medal with a red, white, and blue ribbon. I kept mine for such a long time, but like all our childish things they gradually disappear. We were not too sentimental over these things as some children would have been.

Sunstroke and the Army's exit process

I'm still digging around to get a handle on what happened to John Wildgoose while he was in the Punjab with the Queen's Bays in the mid 1890s. I know he suffered sunstroke, it paralyzed him on the left side, he was invalided out of the army, and the entire family sent back to England.

• Was sunstroke a common occurance for the British military in India? The obvious answer is yes, though I'd've thought that by the late 19th century the powers that be would've been ever-watchful to prevent it. Where can I find statistics on sunstroke casualties for the British Army in India in the 1890s? I did find this from the 1911 Encyclopedia: "Sunstroke has been chiefly observed and investigated as occurring among soldiers in India, where formerly, both in active service and in the routine of ordinary duty, cases of this disease constituted a considerable item of sickness and mortality. The increased attention now paid by military authorities to the personal health and comfort of the soldier, particularly as regards barrack accommodation and dress, together with the care taken in adjusting the time and mode of movement of troops, has done much to lessen the mortality from this cause."


• What was the procedure for invaliding professional soldiers out of the military? Were they given any sort of compensation or pension? (I mention this since John had to go to the workhouse infirmary in Sheffield to live out his days, while the family was scattered from Sheffield to Folkstone and, possibly, Whitley Bay.)

Answers to these questions would be helpful as I put the pieces together.

Aubers Ridge 9 May 1915

Aubers Ridge Memorial, Le Touret where Bert is buried

I haven't started in-depth research on the Battle of Aubers Ridge, where Walter's brother Bert was killed. I pulled some resources from the Imperial War Museum and the British Army Museum while I was in England in May but haven't gone much beyond that. I've check-out all the usual on-line sites focusing on Aubers Ridge, but if anyone knows of solid, resources (print, on-line, whatever) for details on this battle, please let me know.

Bert (Herbert Eustace Wildgoose) - as mentioned before - was in the Black Watch/7th Meerut Division (regimental number 262).

World War I research roadblocks

Walter and son (also Walter) c. 1918

Though I have Walter's letters as a guide for the novel I am writing about him, one of the difficult aspects of the project is filling in the gaps and staying true to the man/the times.

Finding dependable resources to help flesh out the story can be circuitous at best (of course, that's part of the fun of it, as well). The Great War years are the easiest to research (along with WWII/wartime London) because of the wealth of eyewitness accounts and journals, scholarly works, literature, and so on. But I have run into some roadblocks re: specifics on:

1. Mobilization/preparation efforts of the regular army in July/August 1914. Walter, having been with the Royal Lincolnshires since 1908, doesn't give any clues about this in his letters. In spring/summer 1914, was the military resigned to the fact that a war on the continent was imminent? How was it preparing for the threat? I do have some idea (through the letters and research) of the uniforms and kit, but if anyone has a specific checklist of these items it would be helpful. What was the mood of the officers and men? I'm guessing - from what Walter writes - that it was just another tour of duty for them (in the beginning, at least), but I could be wrong. How did the officers (the new ones) regard the regular army troops? How did the troops regard the new officers?
2. Le Havre to Mons: specifics such as weather, mode of transportation, formations (which regiments were teamed together), communication with the French army and other British troops is needed. Thanks to the The History of the Lincolnshire Regiment, 1914-1918, edited by Major-General C.R. Simpson (London: Medici Society, 1931) and the Diary of Lt. C.C. Holms, The Lincolnshire Regiment (wounded 24 August 1914, died in Frameries 26 August 1914), I have a pretty good idea of the day-to-day routine and events of the early days of war for the Lincolnshires. Both of these resources can be found in the Reading Room of The National Army Museum, and the Simpson book can be found in the Reading Room of the Imperial War Museum, as well (referenced in earlier posts). Like most of history, these are written by commissioned officers as opposed to non-coms - I'd love to find something from that viewpoint if it's out there (doesn't have to be the Lincolnshires, just a diary or account from the non-com angle).
3. First Ypres - Winter 1915 - 2nd Ypres: One of the gems I found at IWM (mentioned in earlier post) was a two-volume binding of field communications during 1st Ypres called First Battles of Ypres 1914 Messages of 9th Brigade, 3rd Division . It's a hell of a way to follow a battle, from the guys on the line to HQ - everyone trying to get more ammunition or troops from one place to another as needed. Just incredible. But apart from the Christmas Truce 1914, not much is written about the winter campaign or 2nd Ypres for that matter (except for the trench/gas aspect). What happened January-March 1915? What was the day-to-day routine for the men? What actions took place?
4. Field casualty centres/war hospitals: Locations? Staffing? Who made the decisions about which injured men warranted a trip back to England? Sometime in late April/early May 1915, a box of ammunition fell off a lorry and crushed Walter's foot. He was taken to a field casualty centre and sent back to England to the Clopton War Hospital outside Stratford-upon-Avon. How was it determined that he would go to Clopton? (He'd been injured earlier in the war at Le Cateau - a leg wound - that wasn't serious enough for a trip home.)
   
5. Reserves to Machine Gun Corps: After he'd had part of his big toe amputated and recovered from that, he was sent to the 3rd Reserve Battalion Lincolnshire (Grimsby) for a few months until he was chosen to become an instructor for the newly-formed Machine Gun Corps in late October 1915. How were these new instructors selected? Walter does write about Grantham and the muddy conditions there, but he doesn't get specific about day-to-day training. How did this work? Did the instructors train for a variety of things or were they specialists? Walter spent the remainder of the war in England as a machine gun trainer. What determined why he stayed in England instead of being sent back to the Front? I do know that he left Grantham in 1917 to teach machine gunnery at Camp Mansfield, and then was sent to Rugely (sp?) Camp in Staffordshire. He was there when the armistice was declared. I've found several journals and books on the Machine Gun Corps but there's not much in them about the training period at the camps. Most, naturally focus on how the MGC was used in battle. Any ideas on good resoures that give detail on the training camps?

In addition to the above-mentioned specifics, the debate goes on about World War I novels in general, i.e, keeping to the facts but somehow missing the bigger truth of the matter vs. playing fast and loose with the facts but trying to capture the thoughts/attitudes of those who fought the war and those who had to live with the realities of it back in England. Dan Todman addresses this issue in several posts on his blog Trench Fever (check it out).

My goal with this book is to stay true to Walter and his story, rather than the nit-picky facts of the events. Knowing Walter as I did, knowing his general view on life, his sense of humor, the sadness about some things, the ambivalence to others, I think it would be false to make some grand epic about anger and bitterness towards the war. He took it in stride - he was an army man, after all, from an army family. That said, the death of his brother Bert at Aubers Ridge affected him deeply, and any bitterness towards the war germinates there.

But - as a lover of history and facts in general - I do want to know the details. I want to be true to the events, as well, even if I have to manipulate things every once in a while. It is fiction, after all. We'll see what happens. It seems that anyone writing about the Great War is damned if they do (stick with the facts) and damned if they don't (by focusing on the feelings about the war). Ah, me.

The Rosary and the march to Mons

Well, World War I has come back to the top of the Wildgoose pile. I've mentioned the Great War Forum before as a terrific place to interact with people who have knowledge and interest in WWI. Yesterday, I put forth a question on the forum about a list of blogs that concentrate on the First World War. I haven't had much luck finding sites via the regular search engines - including the blog search engines. If anyone knows of anything, let me know. The best one I've found so far is relatively new called Trench Fever. Take a look.

As for Walter's story, it continues with the march to Mons. He receives a special gift from a Mother Superior that he feels impacted his time at the Front. The story also reveals a lot about Walter, I think. The man I knew was friendly (but not falsly so), had a dry sense of humor and keen mind. But he did keep to his own counsel and didn't fraternize too much with the other Pensioners. His recounting of the journey from Le Havre to the Front bolsters this "lone wolf" image - while the other men were tossing out their pins and badges, Walter held on to his - until, of course, the Mother Superior made her request:

We finally reached a town called Cuesmes on the evening of the 22nd August, and we were billeted in the village and mostly under bivouac. The 23rd August was Sunday, and the weather was beautiful. It didn’t seem real that all the nations were at war with each other on this peaceful Sunday. We were then allotted our positions during the calm of the afternoon. My company “C” Cy. was in the grounds of a convent. We just kept under the shade of the trees so the German planes couldn’t detect us. The nuns and the Mother Superior came into the grounds from Mass, and they passed between our ranks. I had all my buttons, badges, and regimental titles in my jacket and cap. All the others had given theirs away en route to the French children. When the Mother Superior reached me, and saw my cap badge, she pleaded with me to give it to her. I hesitated, but my pals said, “Go on Goosey, give it to her.” I couldn’t resist her kind but pleading face, so I took my cap off and removed the badge and I placed it in her hand. She then took a black ebony rosary from off her neck and put it over my head and tucked the beads into my front part of my shirt. She kissed me, and made the sign of the cross. I still have that rosary in my son’s home. I look upon that as Fate, as it has brought me luck in many ways. Shortly after this interlude we were called out to take up our positions in some fields, and soon we were to withdraw, as the German Cavalry had spotted us. And we were on the march once more.

I love this story. When I visited Walter's son Ron in May, I asked if he had the rosary. It seems that the rosary and the cross were separated (long family story). One of Ron's children has the rosary, but he's not sure what happened to the cross. Well, at least it served its purpose in its time, protecting Walter at Mons, Le Cateau (minor leg wound here), Ypres I and II.

Black coffee, fruit, and wasps: The Great War begins

1914-1918 War Memorial at Le Havre

As regular army, Walter was among the first to land on the continent when the war began. The 1st Lincolnshires left Southampton aboard the S.S. Norman on 13 August 1914, arriving at Le Havre in the early morning hours of 14 August. (Though Walter's letter says he left Southampton on the 12th, records show the Lincolnshires embarked on the 13th.) Here's how Walter remembers it:

And so it was, on the 4th of August, war was declared on Germany, and all units were put on “mobilization alert.” We were confined to barracks and our personal kit had to be packed in large kit bags for them to be stored during the emergency. We prepared to leave barracks to go to France on the 12th August, and we entrained for Southampton. We sailed for Le Havre, and arrived there at about 2am on the 13th Aug.

We were marshaled into large cargo sheds on the wharves, and French peasant women came along and served us with some strong black coffee. We had our mess tins for the purpose. It was very hot but very bitter, no sugar or milk. All was excitement. In the morning, we boarded some cattle trucks to be taken to the Belgian Frontier. All along the journey, the French citizens were begging for souvenirs – buttons, badges, or anything that could be given to them, but they did not impress me. (I had my own thoughts.) When we arrived at the Frontier, we detrained, and we started our journey to our destination by marching. There were heaps of fruit alongside the roads for the troops to have, but we were forbidden to touch it. Not only that, the plague of wasps that they encouraged was awful.

And that's all I have time to share right now. Stay tuned!

Diphtheria and Lodge Moor Isolation Hospital

In 1903, Walter developed diphtheria, known as the "strangling angel of children," and had to be moved away from his residence at the Sheffield Children's Homes to Lodge Moor Isolation Hospital. The hospital was built in the 1880s (I find conflicting dates) and closed (I think) in the early 1980s. It was used to house German POWs in World War II. Imposing place, eh?

Here's Walter's brief account of his bout with the disease:

During the year, I developed a bad attack of diphtheria, and I was moved to Lodge Moor Isolation Hospital, an open air department, with all windows open. I stayed there for four weeks. Then I returned to the Home.

If anyone has more complete information about Lodge Moor's history or the impact of diseases like diphtheria on children in the early 20th century, please comment or email me. I'm always on the lookout for solid information. By the way, a great resource for online photographs of the Sheffield area can be found at PictureSheffield.com. Be forewarned - you can find yourself rattling around this site for hours!

Where's Harry?

Walter had three older brothers - Fred (1885), Harry (1887), and Bert (1889) - but despite the rather fractured childhood, Harry (shown right) was the only one to disappear completely.

While Harry, Bert, and Walter were sent to the Sheffield Children's Home, Fred - the oldest - stayed with his mother Annie in Folkstone. Fred later joined the Royal Sussex Regiment and, according to Walter, even visited the younger boys in Sheffield once:

Brother Fred, who was with my mother in Folkstone, had joined the Royal Sussex Regt, he came to see how Bert and I were getting on. We were too young to realize of how things were with him. He would be seventeen years of age. We couldn’t converse about anything in particular, being so young. He eventually returned to the regiment who then went to Malta.

Fred lived to a ripe old age, as did little sister Annie. Bert, as previously mentioned, was killed at Aubers Ridge on 9 May 1915. He was in the Blackwatch/Meerut Division. Walter, of course, died at age 91 in 1981.

But Harry. Well, here's Walter's story:

Young Harry was three years older than I, and he used to play truant more than Bert and I. And he used to get punished both at home and at school, so in the end he couldn’t take it any longer, and he just left us at the school gates one afternoon and disappeared and I never seen him again. I think the Sheffield authorities traced him, and he may have been sent to Canada to the farms out there, as many of our boys went there, but my mother and father were not notified, which was an anxious time for them.

So, where is Harry? Was he sent to Canada to work the farms? Could he have changed his name from Wildgoose to Wild (which Fred's family did)? According to Walter, Harry was never heard of again - so if he stayed in England or later returned, he made no family contacts. Wonder why? Kay Feltham at the Wildgoose genealogy website has her ear to the ground on this one, and who knows, something may turn up. Any ideas?

Oropesa Deck Boy

When I was in England in May, I spent an afternoon with Walter's son Ron, whom I'd met twenty-five years earlier on one of my visits to the Royal Hospital. He was kind enough to let me take digital photos of old pictures and memorablilia - that's where most of my blog photos come from.

One of the items Ron had was Walter's PSNC service book. Here's a shot of his certificate of discharge.

In his letters Walter said he'd made four trips to South America aboard the Oropesa, but there are only two entries (maybe he meant two trips Liverpool-Valparaiso + two trips Valparaiso-Liverpool). Both journeys originated in Liverpool, destination Valparaiso. Trip 1: August 29, 1907 - November 19, 1907. Trip 2: December 5, 1907 - February 6, 1908. The letters don't go into detail about the voyages much beyond the destinations (see yesterday's post).

After his second trip Walter went to Aldershot to see his mother, and less than a month after his discharge from the Oropesa he enlists with the Royal Lincolnshires (on 3 March 1908).

Sailing the world at 17

Walter saw more of the world before his 18th birthday than most people could see in several lifetimes. I've already posted his account of leaving the training ship to live at the Clio Boys' Home in Liverpool until he could find suitable employment aboard a merchant ship. Walter was 17 years old. His story continues as he and a friend look for work:

I had a friend call Joe Freeman and he, too, was like me on the same quest. He was older than I was. We went one morning to the docks, and we saw a lovely three-masted schooner, moored up, and Joe and I went on board to have a look. A grizzly head popped out of the hatch, and asked us, did we want anything? “We are just looking around.” We want some cabin boys he said, and will be sailing in four days time, and will be away for three years. “Come on, Joe, let us go – that is not for us.” Nevertheless, Joe got a ship called the Ortega, and I was lucky the following week at the same docks a ship called the Oropesa, and this is where my new adventures began.

I sailed from Liverpool one cold, misty and drizzly morning. I was shewn where I was to work and where I was to sleep. I had to look after the Quarter Master, the Baggage Master, the Lamp Trimmer, the Donkey man (who looked after all the winches), the Boatswain Mates. I had to see to their meals, and to clean the cabin after that, I would then report to the Bo’sun for any work I had to do (which was plenty). First trip at sea was awful. I was seasick what with the smell of the newly-painted ship, and the rolling of the ship, I was proper groggy. We sailed to France, picking up emigrants, then we crossed the Bay of Biscay to Spain and Portugal, collecting more emigrants going to South America. We finally called at Lisbon and then we made the eight days’ sail to the Falkland Islands. It was very cold now, and we had to put warm clothes on.

We passed on to the Tierra Del Fuego and the Straits of Magellan. This southernmost part of South America was bitterly cold. While passing through the Straits, the albatross used to gracefully alight on the deck for a rest, and as usual for a feed from the cook. There are many incidents I could enlarge upon but on to the progress of the voyage. We rounded the Straits and called in at a port called Sandy Point, then on to Coronel and Talaquanha, finally to Valparaiso. We stayed here for two weeks for unloading and loading, as we boys were not allowed to go ashore but was employed working the winches on the ship, for which we received 4d and hour overtime.

We returned the same route, back to Liverpool, and the voyage lasted three months. I completed four trips, and then I decided I would like to come home and see my mother, who had married again in 1906 to a Staff sergeant in the Detention barracks in Aldershot.

So, three years aboard the training ship, then another 6-8 months as a cabin boy on the Pacific Steam Navigation Company's Oropesa (see above). There are a couple of good websites about PSNC, one here and one here, that have been helpful in my research.

Walter once wrote me that "you young people sure travel around a lot these days." I had to laugh. He must've written that with a twinkle in his eye and a large splash of cheekiness!

Walter and the Queen Mother

Walter shaking hands with the Queen Mum, 1974

My Chelsea Pensioner

Since the original photos I put up of Walter are now archived for the month, I just wanted to post a another of his Chelsea Pensioner pictures. I like to keep an image of the Walter I knew in my head as I'm digging into his early years. I can still hear his voice and his turn of phrase, but it's hard for me to hear his young voice. I'll have to have someone who is more familiar with the dialect and idiom of his time and space go over my writing to make it more authentic. Anyway - here's to a fine gentleman, Walter Wildgoose.

Walter and May, Part II

Walter was injured outside Ypres in late April, 1915, and sent to Clopton War Hospital near Stratford to recuperate. After he recovered he was sent to Grimsby to the reserve unit until it could be determined where he would go from there (he ended up in the newly-formed Machine Gun Corps). Here's how Walter remembered the marriage decision-making process. You have to admire May's gumption!

Later on, I had a letter from May, asking me what was my intentions regarding her future, as she wanted to know how she was situated. I was quite perplexed, and I sought the advice from one of our older soldiers who was a married man, and he simply told me that I had been courting long enough (by letter) and I had to decide upon marriage. This was quite a “shocker.” I found May to be a very nice young lady, domesticated, in service with some titled people, so I wrote and told her I would put up the Banns in Weelsby Parish Church. The date of the wedding was from the 9th October 1915.

I went to a jewelers in Grimsby with a comrade of mine to choose the ring according to a ring card which May had sent me. I bought the ring. I was granted four days leave. I went to London Earls Court, as there where May was staying with her sister and her husband Doc. The next afternoon, I was speaking to Violet, I was rather shy on these matters, and I was rather anxious to find out if the ring was suitable. Violet took the ring to May who was in another room, and to my horror, the ring was much too small. May came out, and we hurried out to go over to Richmond to buy another ring. May chose a nice one, and it was quite a relief. This obstacle had been removed.

The wedding took place the next day, and all May’s relations and her friends were to be there. I didn’t have anyone of my side, I was a proper “lone wolf.” A soldier friend came to the wedding to be my best man. Taffy Roberts. There was a nice church service in St. Johns Church in Kew Road, and I was thrilled with all the people who attended and they came to the reception held in May’s mother’s boarding house. Of course, I was in khaki uniform, I was confused among all those people. I sought refuge in the garden to be quiet, but May’s father and her brothers sought me out, and made me at home. I have never been used to such “high jinks” before. I never smoked or drank those days.

Walter and May

Walter Wildgoose was introduced to his future wife May Bissell in 1913 by Walter's sister Annie. Here's how he described it in one of his letters:

My sister got married while I was in Aden, but I had never seen her very much, as she was in service in London. I had a surprise one day, though. She and her husband Charles Bissell paid me a visit in the barracks, and it was to find out how I had been getting on in all these years. They invited me to come and spend a weekend with them when possible and I said I would bear it in mind. They were living in Kew Foot Road, near the Richmond Rugby Ground. His family was a large one and they all lived in the Richmond area. I went to see them one weekend, but I noticed my sister seemed to be rather distant, but she “thawed out” before I returned. I think of myself as a “rolling stone.” My brother, who was in the Royal Sussex Regt, had completed his service and was now in Scotland, and he used to visit Charles and Annie when he had “leave.” It was another visit I paid them, when I was introduced to one of Charles’ sisters. Her name was May, and she was in domestic service in Kew Gardens. We formed a friendship, and I used to write to her from Portsmouth.

When Walter and May met, he was stationed in Portsmouth with the Lincolnshire Regiment, having returned from a tour of duty in Aden in November 1912. The courtship of Walter and May is a prime example of the social mores of the day. The two were almost never alone, and yet somehow an understanding grew between them. But I'll save that story for another time.

8s. a week

That's how much it cost Poor Law institutions to support a boy assigned to a training ship. I'm not clear on whether the government paid the fees or whether the institution from which the boy was sent (in the cases of Walter and Bert, Sheffield Children's Home) paid.

The most thorough internet resource on training ships I've found so far is here. There were different categories, though they all had the reputation of being for boys with discipline problems. The Clio, Walter's ship, was an "industrial school ship" whose aim was to prepare the boys for the merchant marine or Royal Navy and/or give them some solid industrial or technical skill. Other categories included: reformatory ships, charitable training ships and schools, and merchant cadet ships/colleges. At least Walter and Bert weren't so bad as to be sent to reformatory ships!

On the Clio, all of the boys' boots and clothing were made on board to give the boys training above and beyond the seamanship. The article also mentions the Clio Boys Home in Liverpool, that could be used by the boys after leaving the ship. Walter mentions staying at the home until he was taken on as a cabin boy on the merchant ship Oropesa in 1907.

Here's his account of his training ship experience, beginning to end:

"The year rolled along into 1904, and one morning, Mr. Sykes the superintendent, sent for Bert and I. He told us we were about to leave school, and that he had arranged some suitable work for us to do. He never told us what it was. We both realized we had caused him a certain amount of trouble in more ways than one. We were taken to the railway station, and one officer took charge of me, and another in charge of Bert. I was taken to Bangor in N. Wales to be placed on a training ship called the Clio in the Menai Straits. Bert was taken to Hull to go on board the Southampton, another training ship in the River Humber in Hull. This was September 1904 and there I stayed until 1907, learning seamanship and many other nautical lessons. It was a hard life at the beginning, but I fitted in after a while. I was fifteen years of age now . . .

During 1905, King Edward VII visited Bangor to open Bangor University and the boys from the Clio formed a Guard of Honour, and it was a proud moment for me, as I saw the King pass along together with our Captain, Captain Langdon, asking him about the boys and where did they come from. It was quite a pleasant interlude to the daily duties on board ship. In the summer, we used to go Llandudno to camp, and carry out field gun exercises, and we stayed under canvas for one week. Trips were arranged for us to go to see Menai Bridge and the slate quarries in the outlying villages.

I stayed on the Clio until 1907 when the Captain wanted to see the boys due to leave. There were 6 of us, and he asked us all “what did we intend to do?” I told him “I wanted to go to sea,” as I had learned sufficient seamanship to help me along. Arrangements were made for me to be taken to Liverpool and boarded in the Clio Boys Home until I was found a ship. It was a nice home, and the officer in charge encouraged us to look around the docks for some likely ship."

Training Ship Clio

This picture from a website is dated 1905. Is Walter in it?

In September 1904, Walter and his older brother Bert were called into the office of the Superintendent of the Sheffield Children's Home (a Mr. Sykes) and told it was time they left the school. According to Walter's letters, two men showed up as "escorts" to ensure the boys reached the destinations that had been determined for them. Walter was taken to Bangor, North Wales and placed on the training ship Clio in the Menai Straits. Bert was taken to Hull and put aboard the training ship Southampton.

According to my research, training ships were for boys between the ages of 11 and 15+ years old who were orphaned or had gotten into trouble or were interested in training for the Royal Navy. They had a reputation as "naughty boy" ships. I can't imagine Walter as a delinquent, but I do know that he and Bert were mischief-makers who ran away from the Sheffield Homes a couple of times. Perhaps no one really knew what to do with them.

It was a tough life aboard the training ships and Walter was on the Clio from 1904-1907 (14-17 years old). I'm always on the look-out for more information on training ships in general, and the Clio and Southampton in particular.

British Raj Resources

Constable's Hand Atlas of India, 1893

A list of solid, reliable internet resources for research on the British Army in India, late 19th century, is coming together. Many of the websites list scholarly works and/or additional online resource that should be helpful as I try to color in some of the details of how the John Wildgoose family lived while stationed in the Punjab.

Two articles by J.K. Buda look at the place and time through its literature. "The Literature of British India" (1985) gives historical background (through 1947, of course), including the "pecking order" of the British administration, army, and civil service. "Rudyard Kipling's 'The Battle of East and West'" (1985) looks as the controversy and misunderstandings surrounding the poem, as well as how the verse captures the atmosphere of the time. I'm not arguing one way or another about the modern sensibilities surrounding Kipling, but Buda's articles help me understand the place/time in which the Wildgoose family was living in the 1890's.

Patrick O'Meara's Indian Tales website is an account of his British military family's life in India during the 1920's-30's (maybe longer - haven't gotten to the end yet!). This will be particularly helpful as I flesh out Walter and May's time in India (from 1919-1930), but some of O'Meara's specifics about how military families lived in India connect the dots for an earlier era, as well.

As with any internet resource (or any resource, for that matter) everything must be taken with a grain of salt. Discerning the author's world-view and bias is, of course, necessary. But even the most biased article can give insight into the period of the British Raj. Other resources I've found interesting include The British Raj (A Remote Elite), Pashto Under the British Empire, Camera Indica (Photography as History and Memory in the 19th Century), and The British Empire, An Internet Gateway (good list of online resources). I have bookmarked many, many more resources that may or may not turn out to reveal the secrets of a regular army family living in India at the end of the 19th century. Stay tuned.

Light entertainment to break the gloom

I needed a weekend break from the constant churning over how things worked for military families in late 19th century India or the horrors of early World War I battles, so I put that aside and watched all six episodes of Blackadder Goes Forth. It plays, of course, on all the stereotypical stuff of the brainless public school/Ox-bridge men pitted against the regular army grunts.

The last episode ("Goodbyeee") does a darn good job of encapsulating the various reasons - non-reasons? - for the war and gives a sort of timeline leading up the last battles (in between the pants-on-head, pencils-up-nose bits). Laughed myself silly until the last scene - which found me blubbering that these guys still, in the end, had to go over the top (though I've read that the last scene has been voted one the Top 10 funniest moments on TV in England - ?).

Anyway, it was a welcome break from the more serious work. Don't know if Walter would've liked the Blackadder stuff, but he had a great sense of humor, always appreciating the lighter side of life.

The Queen's Bays

One aspect of my research on piecing together the details of life for military men and their families in India in the 1890s centers on John Wildgoose's regiment The Queen's Bays (2nd Dragoon Guards). It was a cavalry unit - the nickname "Queen's Bays" stuck because of the type of horses the regiment used - so I'm assuming John was adept at horsemanship, but I could be wrong about that. I'm pretty green where the various iterations of British regimental organization are concerned. It's a slow process, and there are few websites that help put the foundation in place, like this one at Regiments.org.

I'm also trying to track down any information of the typical family living quarters in India in the 1890s - housing, household help, etc. This is proving difficult, so far, with the exception of a couple of books and diaries I found in the Imperial War Museum - again, written by wives of the upper echelon. My search continues . . .

Sunstroke and the Empire

John and Annie Wildgoose with sons Fred, Harry and Bert

(Date questionable, where's Walter?)

After several months' concentration on the World War I portion of Walter's story, I've recently shifted to the earliest part of his life and the accident that shifted the family's fortunes. Walter's father John Wildgoose was a sergeant in the 2nd Dragoon Guards (known at the "Queen's Bays"). At some point in 1892-93, John brought the family to Sialkot (also spelled "Sialket") in the Punjab region of India, where he was stationed. The family consisted of father John, mother Annie, sons Fred, Harry, Bert, Walter, and daughter Annie. I'm not clear of the exact date the family went to India, but I do know that baby Annie was born in England in 1892 and baptized in Sialket. Walter, born in Canterbury in 1890, would've been 2-3 years old.

I know nothing of how the Wildgoose family lived their lives while in India. Alas, most of the books and diaries of the time were written by the upper- and commissioned officer-classes and give little insight into the lives of the non-commissioned officers and their families. I did learn a bit of trivia from Walter's son Ron about how the officers' wives differentiated themselves from the wives of the lower ranks. All women wore the distinctive pith-helmets (for sun protection) often seen in old movies and sweeping-saga-Jewel-in-the-Crown movies, but only the officers' wives were allowed the flowing scarves banding the helmet. Hmm.

It is a constant frustration to me that working class and poor people's stories are left out of history because they didn't have the wherewithal (or the education) to leave a written record. So their stories are told - if they are told at all - by more leisured-class observers. Certainly, the Wildgoose family wasn't illiterate, but I suspect time and energy wasn't available to leave behind detailed accounts of their lives. I think that's why Walter felt it so important to write down his story - and it is a true reflection of the ordinary people that held the British Empire together for so long. Much more research is needed to piece together what life for the Wildgoose family was like in the Punjab.

At any rate, sometime during 1896-97 John suffered severe sunstroke that paralyzed his left arm and leg. He was invalided out of the army - a career military man - and the family sent back to England. John is sent to live the rest of his days at the Firvale Workhouse Infirmary in Sheffield (he had family there) and mother Annie and Fred go to Folkstone to live with Annie's mother. Harry, Bert, and little Walter are sent to the Sheffield Children's Home (a part of the workhouse and on the workhouse grounds). I have conflicting accounts of what happened to little Annie. Walter's letters say that she was in a girls' home in Whitley Bay and that he didn't see her again until 1915. But my Wildgoose genealogy resource says little Annie was in another of the Sheffield Children's Homes, not on the workhouse grounds. Another hmmm.

But the point is that for medical and financial reasons the family was split up, a devastating event however you look at it.

Living through the Great War

Much of my research on Walter's story so far has focused on the First World War, primarily because so much information is available. (The workhouse children's home, training ship Clio, merchant ship Oropesa, and British military operations in the 1920s are proving more difficult areas of research.)

Walter was regular army, having joined the 2nd Bn (H Cy) Royal Lincolnshire regiment on 3 March 1908 in Aldershot. By the time war was declared on 4 August 1914, he had 6 years and a tour of duty to Aden under his belt. His regiment embarked from Southampton the evening of 13 August 1914, arriving in Le Havre 14 August. The men already serving with the colours were the first to confront warfare of new technologies like machine guns, tanks, airplanes, trench warfare and gas. Mons, Le Cateau (where Walter was injured the first time), Aisne, 1st and 2nd Ypres - good soldier Walter was there. A foot injury in April 1915 at 2nd Ypres was good enough to send him back to England. Once recovered, he was tapped to be an instructor for the newly-formed Machine Gun Corps (pictured above, center). That's an abbreviated look at Walter's Great War experience - more, of course, to come.

In order to properly research World War I, you have to go to England (and to the battlefields in France and Belgium, I suppose - but that's for later). We Americans arrived late in the game, though our participation was crucial and helped end the ghastly thing, so we don't have the trove of resources available here. If you mention WWI to Americans, their eyes glaze over - someone might mutter "doughboys" or sing a line or two of "Over There," but there's not much beyond that.

So, to England. In addition to the Imperial War Museum (see yesterday's post), the National Archives is a great place to do some digging into individual services records, etc. Though some of the files can be ordered online and sent electronically, the archives contains a lot more information that requires your physical presence. It's big and confusing, and while I did find several very helpful documents, next time I'm over I think I'll hire someone who is familiar with the files and workings of the place. Like the IWM, the NA lets you book materials and research bays via the internet. You will need to get your reading room card (good for a year) at the reception desk before proceeding to the research area. But unlike IWM, you CAN take digital pictures of the documents if you register your camera (this only takes a minute or two). I hope IWM starts allowing this - it's a huge help to snap off digitals (no flash, of course) of documents.

The best surprise for research purposes, however, was the National Army Museum, situated next to dear Walter's Royal Chelsea Hopital. I just happened upon the place and since I hadn't booked ahead for reading room time, I had to make the application and wait a few days for the research card. It was worth the wait. The staff, as at IWM, were knowledgeable and helpful. Again, there was access to power for the laptop - this makes everything so easy. And like IWM, the National Army Museum warranted two visits - too much stuff to take in at one sitting.

Lots of online treasures - but you don't get to go to England :-( . The University of Birmingham's Centre for First World War Studies has a helpful "Can Anybody Help?" section, where researchers and readers provide answers to difficult questions or point you in the right resource direction. Hooking up with other WWI buffs always leads to terrific information, and I haven't found better than the Great War Forum, an off-shoot of the wonderful website Long, Long Trail. I return time and again to these sites, though I have many, many more bookmarked WWI sites. I'm always looking for more - all suggestions welcome.

Researching in the Cupola

Imperial War Museum, London

IWM Reading Room (the cupola)

After a couple of years researching Walter's story via the internet, it became obvious that more thorough digging was needed and that had to be done in England. I did my homework, however, before I set out in May 2005 - booking time, space, and research titles with the Imperial War Museum, National Archives, and the Local Studies Department of the Sheffield Library.

The most auspicious and seemingly-intimidating space was the Imperial War Museum. A guide escorted me down several hallways, up a tiny elevator, even farther up another flight of stairs, through a couple of doors, and into a lovely circular, domed room outfitted with study bays. Each seat had access to a power source for the laptop - very helpful. The resources I'd requested online were stacked neatly at my bay. I arrived at 10am and left at closing time 5pm. The staff were incredibly helpful, even taking a couple of pictures to document my research experience after everyone else had gone. NO PHOTOS ARE ALLOWED in the the IWM Reading Room, so be sure to ask the staff if you want a "souvenir" picture.

I figured the staff were the experts and knew the IWM's resources better than I did (remember, I'd ordered them online and wasn't completely sure what I was doing). It took me all day to get through the material I'd ordered, but wanted to cover all my bases. I gave one of the staff a list of subjects I was looking for - Royal Lincolnshire regiment, World War I August 1914- May 1915, Machine Gun Corps, British Army in India, Afghanistan, and Mesopotamia between the wars - made an appointment to return to the Reading Room toward the end of my time in UK, and asked her to pull whatever she thought relevant.

When I returned two weeks later, my research bay was stacked with the most incredible items - a two volume set First Battles of Ypres 1914 Messages of 9th Brigade, 3rd Division, a regimental history of the Lincolnshires, among other things. Just pure gold - I would've never found them on my own - at least not on my abbreviated visit.

I cannot say enough about the experience of researching in the IWM Reading Room. It's easy to set up an appointment online and make your initial source requests. Kudos to the staff.

More about the other research places another time.

Did you ever know a goose that wasn't? Wild, I mean.

Walter Wildgoose, 1980 (age 90)

Walter Wildgoose, 1912 (age 22)

That's what Walter said after he'd introduced himself to me in the middle of Whitehall/London on a warm Saturday in July 1977. Judy Cofer and I were down from Oxford for the weekend, and since she'd never been to London, I figured the most efficient use of our short time would be to take one of those 2-hour sight-seeing bus tours to hit the high spots, then choose two or three things to visit after the tour was over.

On the bus tour we saw all the usual suspects – Big Ben/Parliament, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Tower of London. The guide pointed out things of interest and told attention-grabbing stories along the way – as tour guides are wont to do. While traveling through the Westminster and Whitehall, we saw a sprinkling of old gentlemen in distinctive red coats walking in ones and twos along the avenue. The guide explained that these were Chelsea Pensioners, so-called because they lived at the Royal Hospital Chelsea built by Sir Christopher Wren on the banks of the Thames. He explained that the Royal Hospital wasn’t a hospital per se, rather a veterans’ home for non-commissioned military men.

After the tour, I asked Judy which of the sights she’d like to re-visit for a closer look. En route to one of our destinations we found ourselves walking along Whitehall. Sharp-eyed Judy spotted one of the red-coated gentlemen from a distance and said, “Come on – let’s go meet him!” I was afraid we’d scare the life out of the old man as we swooped down on him, but he was more than up for the intrusion.

He was charming, in fact. His name was Walter Wildgoose and he was 87 years old. We talked with him for a few minutes. He invited us to come to the church service at the Royal Hospital Chapel the next morning; he served as verger for the service. We said we’d try (knowing that we wanted to do a pub crawl that night and probably wouldn’t be up for a Sunday church service). After giving us his address at RHC, we left to continue our sight-seeing.

We did not make the service at the Royal Hospital Chapel the next day. I felt a little guilty for not going, so when I returned to Oxford I wrote to Walter telling him how sorry I was that we hadn’t come to see him again. I did promise that I would let him know the next time I was going to be in London so that we could go to tea or for a little stroll. I also wanted to see the Royal Hospital after hearing so much about it.

After finishing my studies at Oxford, I decided to stay in England for a while. I was able to land a part-time job at the pub in the Ashley Park Hotel in Walton-on-Thames (about 25 miles southwest of London), which gave me time during the afternoons to catch the train into London for museums, theatres, etc. It also allowed time to visit Walter at the Royal Hospital.

He was always a wonderful host and a great tour guide, knowing all the interesting stories and history of the area. Sometimes we would leave the hospital grounds and stroll around Chelsea, occasionally stopping for tea. As a lover of history, I never got tired of his reminiscences. Having been raised in a boys’ home in Sheffield, fought in World War I, stationed in Egypt, Iraq, Aden, and India during the 1920s and 30s, he had a deep well from which to draw. He remembered the death of Victoria and the coronation celebrations for Edward VII and George V. Walter actually took part in the funeral ceremonies for Edward, as a member of the Royal Lincolnshires.

When I returned to the States, we continued our correspondence. During summertime trips to England,visits to Walter were, of course, mandatory, and on one occasion I met Walter’s son, Ron, and his wife Alma.

A couple of years into our friendship Walter began writing his memoirs and sending them to me. Over the course of a year, letters arrived full of names and places and events straight out of history book. Here was someone who actually lived them! What fascinated me most was that this was the story of a regular person – not of royalty, generals, and politicians. Walter provided a true social history of the time, with a lot of political events thrown in. But the events in and of themselves weren’t important. It was how the Average Joe had to work through them and how he was impacted. Along the way, Walter celebrated his 90th birthday and continued to write to me throughout 1980.

When I got the letter with Alma’s return address on it, I knew what it contained. His daughter-in-law had promised to write if anything ever happened to Walter. Here was the letter. Walter died in February 1981, just a few days after his 91st birthday.

So that's how it started. I treasured the letters for over twenty years, not really knowing what to do with them (except be amazed by them). A couple of years ago, I pulled them out and started tracking down the details of Walter's story via the internet. And the story continues.