Hopes of Victory

Copyright © 2020 by SHAUN CHAPMAN.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2018911216

ISBN:                Hardcover              978-1-9845-5452-9

                          Softcover                978-1-9845-5451-2

                          eBook                     978-1-9845-5450-5

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Rev. date: 01/30/2020

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Foreword

Introduction

Chapter 1     The Great War 1914-18

Chapter 2     Our family

Chapter 3     A Young Pirate & Family Tales

Chapter 4     Whispers of War

Chapter 5     The Blitz

Chapter 6     Call of Duty

Chapter 7     HMS Sweetbriar, K209

Chapter 8     The Cruel Sea?

Chapter 9     An Atlantic Convoy

Chapter 10   Gibraltar and the Med via the Azores

Chapter 11   D-Day

Chapter 12   Victory at Last

Chapter 13   De-mob

Chapter 14   Post War Britain

Chapter 15   The Sea Calls

Chapter 16   Australia

Chapter 17   New Zealand

Afterword

Hopes of Glory

Bibliography

Epilogue

Author Biography

Photographs

DEDICATION

T his book is dedicated to the ships and men of the Royal Navy, United States Navy, Royal Canadian Navy and Merchant Navy who sailed the seven seas at a time of war between 1939 and 1945, when only a thin strip of sea stood between all that was right and good and an evil that had swept across Europe wearing jackboots and carrying a flag emblazoned with a swastika, spouting the words, Heil Hitler!… It is especially dedicated to those in the Flower class Corvettes, ships of 1200 tons when fully laden and packed full of high explosive, whose mission was simple: seek and destroy enemy submarines and protect the convoys at all costs…

It is dedicated to the men I sailed with, our First Officer Tom Brocus, Lieutenant Alf Cole (Sec.Nav. of the RNZN in the 1960s), Sub-Lieutenant Lunn, and, of course, our ship, HMS Sweetbriar (K209), its captains: Lt. Jack Winston Cooper, Lt. Cdr. Robert Edwards, Lt. Cdr. William Whitfield, Lt. James Grenville Lewis, Lt. John Douglas Gordon Mitchell, and to B2 Group … To Lieutenant Nicholas Monsarrat who sailed with HMS Campanula, one of our sister ships in B2 Group … To the United States Navy and Royal New Zealand Navy … To my wife Elizabeth Katherine Chapman, my son Mark Chapman, my daughter Tina Louise Chapman, Adam, Nathan, Jennifer, Vo and little Logan, and of course, Emma Watson and David & Judy Langridge … To my father Ernest Andrew Chapman a Driver/Gunner and corporal of the Royal Field Artillery (L/29187), to my Uncle Albert Chapman of the Gloucestershire Regiment 1st Battalion (38158), who lies asleep at Savy British cemetery, Aisne in France (Plot 11.A.15., Memorial ID: 56406951) … To my father’s other brothers, Edward, Jack & Kenneth … To my mother Elizabeth Chapman (previously O’Sullivan) and my brothers Ernie, Jimmy, Teddy & Alfred and their sons and daughters … To my Uncle James ‘Jimmy’ O’Sullivan who fought in Turkey during the Great War … and, to those who have no grave markers, those men, women and children who died at the hands of our enemy in ghettos and concentration camps where the only escape was death … Cdr. Stanley William Chapman

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

W e would like to thank our many supporters who have helped with not only Hopes of Victory but our conservation work and books as well as keeping us alive & kicking, especially Dennis Udoh, Chris Stevens, Ronny Beifus, Christopher Tonoh, Valerie Kirchner, Chris Jones, Ntweng Titus Makhubedu. The following deserve credit for helping me in my research: The Great War Forum members, Margaret Nolan & the Gallipoli Association … It has been a long and hard journey, maybe a little too hard at times, but as I sit here and look back on it I am proud to have people such as yourselves join us on the epic quest we have undertaken, and hope that what is written within these pages will make a difference to the world in which we live … Make War No More … Neither to the flora and fauna with which we share our planet and to our fellow man … For, it is high time man appreciated the gifts he has inherited … But, one man deserves so much credit, and that is my father Stanley William Chapman, whose sense of fun always amused Tina, Mark and I when we were young. His sense of duty, loyalty and honor is unsurpassed. His love and generosity to his children know no bounds … Thanks Dad … for everything …

FOREWORD

A s I stand here looking back over the years, I have witnessed a wave of uncaring abuse sweep over Britain, destroying and tearing the fleshy parts off the lion that was once our proud emblem. Of central banking institutions with hidden agendas imposing their will in the same manner as Hitler and the Third Reich, a European Union that has sought to enslave the British people with laws and statutes of their own making. Of a political correctness used by unscrupulous men and women devised to destroy and defeat the very principles we held dear to our hearts, principles that an evil personified by Hitler himself, wished to destroy, an evil that would have at its core the destruction of values of distinction and greatness. Were the sacrifices we made worth it? All I can say is the same thought processes and patterns prevalent in sustaining the Third Reich now seem to play a part in the British government and the draconian laws they have institutionalized – In the end, what the Third Reich failed to accomplish is being completed by a corporatocracy sweeping the Earth in the guise of a wooly pelted baying sheep, underneath which is a ravenous wolf seeking to devour the whole world … I have witnessed successive British political parties erode the very lives of those bringing them to power – either for self-gain or their own insidious hidden agendas. There is an old saying, ‘All politicians are rats, but not all rats are politicians–’

Over the years I have lived to see the British people continually abused and lambasted and insulted by individuals and countries even though Britain has given so much to the world – It is these self same individuals and nationalistic entities that quickly forget those sacrifices made by the British people to rescind and wage war against slavery, who sacrificed their lives and those of their loved ones on a pyre of international tumult and angst, a sacrifice to end the hurt and suffering of others on a scale unseen before in the realm of historical fact. One that those same nationalistic entities wish to resurrect enmeshing themselves with the same form of ideologies as the Third Reich …

By standing up to a bully in a playground on an international scale, the British people have given rise to a whole different chain of events, and, it is up to the whole world to respect and honor their sacrifices … For, if this had not been the case the vast majority of those alive today would never have existed and those extant on Earth would be forever more chained to the will and been at the mercy of tyrannical forces such as the world will never see again in this stream of time …

We stood for all that was right and good in a world gone mad at that time. At the beginning, alone we defended our shores, alone we faced an evil that would have crushed righteousness, light and goodness under its heel as it spread its dark tendrils around the globe …

I am proud to have been one of those few who stood stalwart and unmoving in the face of danger and a foe intent on the enslavement of all mankind, imposing a will surpassing only the devil himself … A diamond is formed by pressure and heat, Hitler had applied both to the British people and a diamond had been formed …

Present and future wars will always be pale and petty in comparison – and at least I know I was in the war to end all wars and we, our allies, particularly the United States, won … Cdr. Stanley William Chapman

INTRODUCTION

W hen my father and I started Hopes of Victory I wondered how the book would turn out and what the content would be, and would it be good enough for the general public. I write this as the book is nearing completion and I am proud of how it has transformed from a small seed into a wonderful repository of our family’s history. More than this though it has shown me how precious each and every member of our family is and was. I have a much greater appreciation of both my mother and father and the sacrifices they made so I can be where I am today. I have seen through the pages of our family’s sojourn through time that even the smallest of deviation in the march toward our present future would have given rise to a dramatically different outcome. They coin it the Butterfly Effect. And within this timescape nestles a myriad of instances where our family’s fortunes would have improved drastically, which, in turn would have given rise to a multitude of different outcomes. At other times the exigencies of certain time periods proved to be an insurmountable wall onto which our fortunes and dreams were dashed to pieces with little or no chance of escape. And whilst every effort has been made up to the time of publication to make sure that all the information contained in this book is a true and correct interpretation of events, any erroneous details or misinterpretations are purely unintentional … Working on our family’s history has proved enlightening; working on it with my father has provided me with an immeasurable amount of satisfaction and happiness. It is a project that any father and son would be proud of. It has given me a unique insight both of my father and all those who have gone before. It has shown me the strife and turmoil our family has experienced even up to the point my sister, brother and I came onto the scene. I am indescribably proud of my father, mother, sister and brother. Things may not have turned out the way we wanted, but, we are family … and, the love we have for one another shall last for all eternity … Cdr. Shaun Chapman

CHAPTER 1

The Great War 1914-18

S ome say the Great War started with the assassination of the Austrian Archduke Francis Ferdinand and his wife in Sarajevo on Sunday 28 of June 1914. The Archduke was Kaiser Wilhelm Bismarck’s nephew and heir, but his was just one inconsequential human life that really mounted to nothing more than a storm tossed rock lying on a beach strewn with pebbles that all looked the same. Was his life worth the blood of millions spilt on the battlefields of Europe, or was it yet just another petty excuse for the military might of Germany to hold France and the rest of the World accountable for some imagined slight to their nation’s manhood and their imperial dreams. Then again maybe they felt everyone else was weak and they could storm through the Low Countries and seize them, standing on their necks and proudly proclaiming, We are gods, bow down to us now, for you are now our subjects and shall feel the keen edge of our wrath if thou raise thy heads … Gavŕilo Prinzip, the Bosnian student, didn’t give a thought to his unconscionable action as he pulled the trigger of his firearm. Nor did he give any conscious thought to the repercussions and effect this simple act could cause. His senseless and irrational behavior brought about the deaths of so many on the battlefields of Europe … Was Serbia complicit in the crime? Quite possibly, but this was never proved conclusively …

But the reason for the war didn’t matter, it didn’t matter for little Johnny Jones lying in a pool of his blood at the bottom of a trench filled with the stench of rotting corpses and mud; it didn’t matter to Henry Baker who now lay in several pieces, courtesy of a German shell, on the field of battle in no-man’s land; and it didn’t matter to Albert Chapman either, for he had done what he had thought was right and joined the army to make a difference, to fend off the Hun and stop them from taking France and ultimately taking Britain as well. As he lay mortally wounded in a shell hole behind a mass of twisted barbed wire thoughts of home in the village of Leiston and of happier days in Saxmundham flickered through his mind, and he wondered what would become of his brother who was also on this same battlefield. The pain from his wounds was unbearable and he started to hallucinate seeing the face of a young woman he had proposed to and planned to marry when he got home, he called out to her, but it was a fading image, a memory that had impressed itself upon, and replaced, the images around him. He tried to shut the pain and destruction around him out but couldn’t, he didn’t want to be there, he didn’t care for the war anymore, there was no bravado now for he just wanted to live, he didn’t want to die, at least not like this. His future was fading fast and so was his beloved, there would be no children, no growing old with the woman he loved and no playing with his grandchildren on grass covered slopes populated by dandelions whose seeds the little children would try and catch as they blew this and that way with the breeze. He didn’t want it all to end like this; he had so much to live for, so much to do with his life, this couldn’t be happening, it must be some mistake … Albert tried to call for help but his cry was more like a croak than a full throated passion-filled yell for assistance and succor … Over the steady rhythm of a Hun machine gun there came yet another sound, a whistling noise, an ominous sound that brought death with it …

Ernest Chapman loved animals, and horses in particular, and they loved him. Underneath him was Dolly, his horse, a war horse of the Royal Field Artillery and underneath her steel shod hooves was the clinging sticky mud and wet soil of France. Dolly’s nostrils flared as she struggled to breathe, inhaling the stink of cordite and explosives as she did so. The air above was filled with whistling shells and all about were loud explosions that blew pieces of fragmented trees, and that self-same mud and soil, all over the field of battle. Ernest guided Dolly over the muddy terrain as fast as he could. Next to Dolly was another horse of which Ernest held the bridle, and behind them two more horses and another driver riding on the horse behind Ernest. They were pulling a gun carriage and a medium sized piece of field artillery with two men riding atop the carriage. It was said that you would never hear the shell that killed you … All about the horses a barrage of shells erupted with such vehemence and anger Ernest could feel and smell the hot fetid breath of Satan’s hordes … and out of the deafening clamor and roar of the explosions around them came yet another and even more ominous sound, a whistling noise and it seemed to be coming straight for them. Ernest gave it no thought and urged Dolly forward by kicking his heels into her flanks and yelling above the din for even greater speed out of the steeds in his charge. The whistling became louder and louder with each passing second until it seemed to be nearly upon them …

Jimmy O’Sullivan had been ordered by the officers in command to surrender, so he did what he was told, he wanted to carry on fighting but an order was an order so what could he do. He had laid down his rifle and stuck his hands up … It all seemed like an eternity ago as he pulled back on the oars of the boat as he headed towards Greece. His lips were parched and dry and his tongue felt a little swollen, his face was burnt from the Mediterranean sun beating down upon him. He prayed for rain but it never came, just the same hot burning sun by day and the cold stygian black starry sky at night. At the moment he would have traded his soul for a canteen filled with water. His meager ration of bread and cheese and spam were gone … and his canteen was empty … the scraps of food had been finished nigh two days ago while he was sitting in a tree … ‘Still, things could have been worse’, he thought, looking up at the stars to orientate himself … The Turks had always treated escaped prisoners the same way … for, without even blinking an eye, they would slit your throat if they found you …

* * *

Leiston was a wonderfully quaint little town on the east coast of Suffolk right next to Saxmundham; it had a pebble beach and farmland all around. Ernest’s father, Alfred, worked for the railways in Saxmundham and his stepmother, Joan, was a schoolteacher in a small school, she had originally come from Wales and her maiden name was Davis. His real mother Ellen Elizabeth Chapman (ne Peters) had passed away. Summer was an idyllic time of the year for Ernest; his father had spoken to one of the farmers in the area who had taken the young lad on as a part-time farmhand. He loved animals so any farm chore was just another opportunity to be nearer to nature and his favorite animal, the horse. He ploughed fields with them, fed and watered them and brushed them down at the end of the day. But most of all he loved to talk to them because they were his best friends and the farmer knew this, which is why, even at a very young age, he entrusted the boy with work usually done by an older youth or an adult. The horses under his care would do anything for him; he only had to ask them with a nod of his head, a whisper or a calm word. At the time there were really only five modes of road traffic, travel by foot, by train or by horse or horse drawn carriage and cycle, like the Penny Farthing. The horseless carriage was a scarcity and an oddity, and many thought the strange machine wouldn’t last. The summers were long and warm and after finishing his chores Ernest would lie down in the green grass with a straw in his mouth and look up at the clouds above while his equine charges chomped on the blades of grass by him. There was no sound in the skies above and no harsh sounding mechanical engines on the roads, just the gentle swishing back and forth of the long grass. And when the day was done a hot farm cooked meal lay in wait for him on the kitchen table. Come harvest time there were barn dances and parties at many of the farms in the area with Ernest’s entire family being invited to many of them … As part payment for his work at the farm Ernest was allowed to ride the horses and exercise them, taking them out into the countryside …

Ernest had four brothers, Albert, who was older, then Jack, Kenneth and Edward. Life was simple just after the turn of the century, but the winds of war were about to turn into a gale of destruction as the German military machine began the task of building ships and long range artillery pieces for a future battle unseen to all save a few, for even in the year 1900 the Kaiser and his military advisors had begun to draw up their battle plans … In the dark days of the Boer War Queen Victoria, even though aged, stated, The Queen is not interested in the possibility of defeat … At the end of hostilities and with the Boer War finished and won Britain prided itself on being the greatest and most powerful nation on Earth … Germany, however, had eyes on this title and wouldn’t rest until it had both the title and had claimed the far flung lands Britain held sway over. The British lion was about to receive a good and proper mauling by the Kaiser’s two headed eagle … All they needed was an excuse to further their ambitions …

* * *

Alfred and Joan Chapman had made their house at Leiston into a warm and happy home for their family, they were all very happy after moving there from Saxmundham, but war was about to break out due to the Kaiser’s intransigence and warmongering policies. The safety of Britain and her dominions was in jeopardy. Boys being boys though, Albert, Ernest, Jack, Kenneth and Edward took little note of what was happening on the political scene, their life in the town of Leiston could not have been happier what with running races in the fields around the town and riding horses in the green pastures when they could, and going to school which cost their father a ha’ penny a week for each of them, and of course, getting dressed in their best clothes for church every Sunday at St. Johns church in Saxmundham. Their mother took great care of the boys and loved each and every one … In 1911 George V was crowned king of Great Britain, Ireland, and the British Dominions beyond the seas, emperor of India, on the 22nd of October … Alfred was the best boilermaker the Great Eastern Railways had, he was so skilled he was sent all over Britain to repair boilers and teach others the fine art of boiler making. When their father was away working for the Great Eastern Railways Albert would take charge of the household after his mother who made sure her brood was skilled in reading and writing and all the other subjects they were taught at school. Like any household full of boys fights broke out occasionally but nothing ever serious, just normal sibling rivalry for the affections and favor of their parents … Then war broke out in Europe between Austria and Serbia in response to the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, and as Russia mobilized her forces to the districts closest to Austria on the 29th of July 1914, Austria moved toward Belgrade and began bombarding the Serbian capital. The German fleet was recalled from the Baltic Sea and Germany informed Russia that because she had mobilized her forces Germany would do the same. On that same evening the Kaiser and his council of war decided to declare war on France and Russia simultaneously. They offered their assurances to the British government that if they remained neutral they had no intention of making territorial gains if Germany proved victorious against France. This was rejected by the British Ambassador in Berlin, Sir Edward Grey. He had no intention of embroiling Britain in another war so he delayed advising the cabinet to take such action for as long as possible. Ultimatums and assurances were bandied about all so that German forces could be moved into position, for the Germans had decided to take France in one swift blow which would incapacitate her leaving them to concentrate on the fall of Russia. Britain had obligations to Belgium and asked France and Germany for assurances that her neutrality would be respected. France responded and gave the required guarantee but Germany had no intention to respect the treaty she had been cosignatory to in 1839 … The following day German troops crossed the frontier into Luxembourg then on into France where skirmishes between French and German troops took place. In short order the Germans attacked Belgium and France leaving Britain no option other than to declare war after an ultimatum for Germany to remove her troops failed to elicit a response … On midnight on Tuesday the 4th of August 1914 a state of war existed between Britain and Germany …

* * *

For two days the Belgians kept the Germans at bay from taking the city of Liege until it was occupied on the 7th of August. German artillery continued to pound away at the forts surrounding it until all resistance crumbled. The German forces pushed on through Belgium quickly destroying all in its path on its way to the northern border of France. Britain had mobilized 150,000 troops under Sir John French and deployed them to France. This British Expeditionary Force first came into contact with the Germans on Sunday the 23rd of August that year. Back in Britain the newspapers were full of war reports and the war was on everybody’s lips … The Chapman boys poured over any newspapers that came their way, devouring every little detail. After dinner was finished in the Chapman household they all they crowded into the living area. Albert and Ernest would sit by their father and read as their brothers sat on the rug by the fireplace, over which, was suspended a kettle. Their mother, knitting sweaters, would correct them if they weren’t able to pronounce something correctly. Alfred, their father, had never been taught how to read when he was a youngster while he was growing up, so he sat in rapt attention listening about the war and the efforts of Lord Asquith and Lloyd George in their attempts to stop the conflict widening and stem the German advance. Albert showed a caricature of the Kaiser to his father, who laughed, then noted, There is no reasoning with the Germans, they’re all pig-headed and they won’t stop until we’re all subjects of the Kaiser …

Have you seen the posters in the village, father, they need men to fight them. I’d like to join up right now … said Albert loudly and puffing his chest out proudly. Me too, piped in Ernest, a little more subdued than his brother. Their mother shook her head from side to side and said, You’re both too young right now … I’m sure it won’t last, the Germans will pull back once our troops get into action. Look what happened in the Boer War …

Alfred turned to the boys, Hopefully your mother is right and there’ll be no need for you to go to war.

It won’t be too long before I’m eighteen and then I can join up … it would be a great adventure father … added Albert.

Alfred replied uneasily, What if you were injured? What then …

No German’s going to harm me father, I’ll make sure of that, answered Albert.

Albert, war is a nasty business and I hope this mess is cleared up before you turn eighteen, besides, the Great Eastern Railways are expecting you to continue your apprenticeship. So we can’t have you gallivanting off to France now, can we? commented the boy’s father.

But father all my friends are wanting to volunteer, said Albert.

Then, that is something their parents will have to talk to them about, fighting over in France will not put food on the table, or anything else for that matter … The politicians started this mess so let them deal with it. It has nothing to do with decent folk trying to make an honest living … stated Alfred with irritation.

Yes, father, said Albert humbly.

Joan, their mother, put down her row of knitting and got up, Time for bed now boys, early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise …

Yes, mother … chorused the boys as they struggled to rise from the comfortable rug and warm fire they sat next to. After the boys were tucked safely in bed Alfred picked up the discarded newspaper looking at the caricature. Joan sat back down and carried on with her knitting, turning to her husband she smiled, Would you like some tea? she asked. Yes please, answered Alfred pretending to peruse the paper studiously while gently rocking his chair back and forth.

The following day, being a Sunday, meant the boys all went to church with their parents, including Albert who would take the train back to Leytonstone late that day. After church at St. John’s in Saxmundham, which was so close to Leiston the villages nearly merged into one another, they changed into play clothing and the boys grabbed some sticks and started marching around like soldiers in the field between their house and the shingle beach behind it, then they started chasing each other with half playing the role of the Hun and the others British soldiers defending a fort they had built near the beach. Ernest shot at one of his brothers with his stick, Bang! he said loudly. Jack carried on running toward the fort which he and Albert were defending. Hey, you can’t do that, you’re dead! he shouted crossly. As Jack jumped over a tree stump and jumped on top of Ernest, tackling him and bowling him over. You’re dead I say … when you’re shot you’re dead! complained Ernest loudly. Jack smiled at him, The Germans don’t follow the rules, you should know that …

Ernest pushed his brother off, If you can’t simply follow the rules of war then I’m not playing!

Albert turned to Ernest as Kenneth and Edward followed Jack over the stump. You can’t leave me all alone with these rascals Ernest, cried Albert, grabbing the two children by their collars and holding them at arm’s length. I’m going, for if you can’t play properly then I sharn’t play at all … Besides, I have chores to do, said Ernest angrily, storming off.

Later that day while Ernest was mucking out the pigsty near the tomato plant sticks at the back of the house, Albert came over to him and leaned against the fence. You know you shouldn’t be cross with them, they were only playing, apologized Albert for his other brothers’ behavior.

Ernest looked at him somewhat sheepishly. I’m not upset with them, I’m upset with the fact you’ll probably be going to France and I won’t, replied Ernest.

Albert smiled, From what everyone is saying the war could go on for a long time …

But I want to go with you … retaliated Ernest.

Ernest you’re not old enough, even I’m not old enough yet, continued Albert looking at their pig nuzzling his brother’s leg. So don’t be pig headed … smiled Albert as the pig nearly bowled his brother over, Besides, you even have trouble keeping upright with one pig, how would you fare against the Hun?

Albert turned to leave, but stopping for a second he said, Don’t be wishing for things other men are frightened of and would stay well away from … With that final comment he walked away toward the house.

Ernest shook his head and grumbled, not noticing the pig behind him. As the pig bumped into him Ernest lost his balance and fell backwards into the slimy muck … Sitting in the muddy gunk he moaned, Et tu Brutus …

* * *

A British army non-commissioned officer with two soldiers came to Leiston and Saxmundham one day to put up recruitment posters and collect volunteers for the army. The posters were tacked up at the town hall and local churches, shops and in the local pubs. They had come to gather volunteers and register those old enough for fighting. The soldiers were also on the lookout for horses, commandeering them for the war effort. Ernest breathed a sigh of relief when his two favorite plough horses were passed over. Too old … they said, plus a couple of other unsavory words which Ernest thought unkind and unnecessary. To Ernest they were steeds akin to the horses of old such as King Arthur rode as he fought the Saxons, in his eyes they were the most beautiful horses ever and he adored them, and they he, for whenever they caught sight or sound of him they would gallop towards Ernest and follow him wherever he went. And every time Ernest visited the farm he would take a little treat for them. Coming up to him they would search him, seeking out an apple or other sweet thing he would hide in his pockets or hold in his hands behind his back. Their ever eager and sensitive noses always found what they sought and Ernest would stroke their long bony noses, kiss them gently and say a quiet reassuring word …

With their quota of eligible men filled British army officers led their men to the railway station and from there to a training camp. The village of Leiston stood by their men waving paper Union Jacks on sticks and shouting words of encouragement as they passed by little shops along narrow streets in the village. The children of Leiston marched up and down with toy rifles made of wood and broom sticks, amongst them were Jack, Kenneth and Edward puffing chests out proudly and falling in behind the men with their friends. Ernest looked on disconsolately at the procession, wishing he was going with them … Standing next to him Albert saw the pain in his eyes … His one wish was that he alone could go and that the war would end before Ernest was old enough to join up …

Time waits for no man and the war continued in France on the other side of the English Channel. A year went by leaving Ernest and Albert to fight with wooden swords on the plough horses borrowed under the excuse of exercise and stretching the horses’ legs on the weekend. With naught but reins and a bareback Ernest and Albert would chase after each other through green fields and pastures. Stuck in wide belts around their waists were wooden swords their father had fashioned for them years before. They would do nothing against Saxon or German steel but to them they were gleaming blades like Arthur’s Excalibur. As they galloped through the fields and countryside around Leiston and Saxmundham they stopped to look at the sea from a hill overlooking the murky grey waters below. Panting atop his horse, Albert drew in a deep breath, You would never guess that over there, he pointed eastward, battles are raging and brave men are dying, would you?

No you wouldn’t, Ernest noted with a hint of wistfulness.

But, be that as it may, Albert pulled out his wooden sword from his broad belt, Taste my steel you Saracen dog …

So you think you can best me, do you? retorted Ernest gripping his reins tightly.

Most assuredly, answered Albert tensing his legs and steadying himself as he struck out with his sword. Ernest parried the blow and their wooden swords clashed. And as wood struck wood the clashing slowly turned to steel on steel, bayonets against bayonets, German bullets against the flesh and blood of good men who died in the mud whence they stood, men who wished only to defend their countries and the lives of the innocent …

* * *

David Lloyd George, 1st Earl of Dwyfor, was born in 1863 at Chorlton-on-Medlock in Manchester. His father, William George, a schoolmaster, was a native of Fishguard in South Wales. He left teaching for farming before George reached his first year, but died shortly afterwards on their farm not far from Haverfordwest. Richard Lloyd, a shoemaker and William’s brother-in-law, looked after the family in Llanystumdwy, Caernarvonshire, where he lived and worked. George went to the village school and was eventually articled to a firm of solicitors in Portmadoc. In 1884 he started practicing law at Criccieth but was a very outspoken liberalist with strong views. In 1890 he became an elected representative and replaced a Conservative Parliamentarian. He was a great orator and stuck up for his constituents arguing against an unfair Local Taxation Bill and even stood up against Joseph Chamberlain in Parliament. When it came to protecting the Welsh people and their interests he was always at odds with his own Liberal Party, but he stuck to his guns nonetheless. During the South African War he became very unpopular at home because he outwardly supported the Boers in their quest to break from British governance. He loved Wales and purchased a house in Pwllheli, near Portmadoc. He strove for Welsh independence and it was largely through his efforts that it became an issue within the Liberal Party. Even so, he was not popular with the patriotic crowd that saw him as a traitor because of his views in the 1901 election. In Birmingham, where he spoke in the town hall, the police insisted he be disguised as one of them to leave because of the crowd’s patriotic fervor.

All through his career as a parliamentarian he was an uncompromising idealist who could not stand for fools, and in his mind parliament was full of them …

At the outbreak of hostilities Lloyd George was a leading debater in the House of Commons and coined terms which stuck in the minds of the electorate, such as, ‘the silver bullet,’ when he was referring to war loans. In May of 1915 he became minister of munitions when the government was reorganized due to the war, now there was no delineation between the Liberal, Tory and Labour Parties. Everyone had a role to play in countering the aggression of the Kaiser and the German military forces invading the Low Countries, France and Russia. They had to be stopped at any cost … It wasn’t long before he succeeded Lord Kitchener as war minister but shortly afterwards he resigned because of disagreements with the Prime Minister, Lord Asquith, over the way in which the war was being fought. By December of 1916 Asquith resigned as Prime Minister and his post was filled by Lloyd George. He was now able to put into practice the strategies that he hoped would change the tide of the war …

* * *

Jimmy O’Sullivan had volunteered to fight the Hun scourge, there had been no pushing or cajoling, he thought his country was in dire need of men to fight in the trenches over in France. He gave no thought as to whether he would survive the war or the fact that he would be fighting seasoned professional soldiers. Like most men who volunteered he wanted to serve his country. Many wars had been fought in Europe, Russia, Asia and the Near East but none quite like this. Most had been limited to one country or another, however, this was vastly different; nations were struggling to retain their national identity against a foe intent on ruling the entire world. And the method of war was different; Otto Lilienthal had been the first to get airborne in a heavier-than-air-craft, a glider, while Richard William Pearse, an inventor of home-made aero planes, motor bicycles and agricultural machinery, achieved controlled sustained propeller driven flight early in 1902 along the Waitohi main road outside Auckland, New Zealand; the Wright brothers, a pair of pioneering bicycle mechanics, took a leap into the skies one grey day near Kitty Hawk, South Carolina, in December 1903 with their motorized and propeller driven aircraft. Now, in a short period of time, aircraft ruled the skies above the trenches photographing them and dropping bombs on the troops below in much more complex fabric and wood machines. The Germans had even developed the MG-1914, an air-cooled 1200 round per minute machine gun that could cut down advancing troops. These guns were placed at regular intervals along the trenches producing an enfilading cross-fire that ripped apart anyone caught in it. The British Vickers water-cooled machine gun and the Lewis machine gun used by the Allies were not as effective. The rest of the world had stagnated while the Germans had forged ahead developing and devising new and better ways for killing men … Added to this carnage was a new terror on the field of battle, that of poisonous gas, gas that could blind a soldier and destroy his lungs, leaving him on the ground rolling in searing pain gasping for one last breath … Jimmy thought nothing of this, as he proudly boarded his ship wearing his itchy thick wool khaki uniform with bandage type leggings above his brown leather boots that still smarted and gave him blisters on his heels and toes. On his back was a small rucksack with a bedroll strapped on to it and an entrenching tool. He carried his Lee Enfield rifle proudly and wore his tin hat at a jaunty angle. His parents had left Ireland for London so that their children could have a better life. A little part of him questioned his reasons for joining up, had it been true patriotism for a country that looked down on him because of his Irish decent, or did he truly feel he was a British citizen fighting for King and Country in the Royal Munster Fusiliers. He didn’t know. The answer seemed to elude him. Irrespective of the true motives for him joining he was a proud man at this moment in time, going off to fight a common enemy of both the upper and lower classes of Britain. Though he wondered, by what right did those with titles and money have to lord it over those less fortunate. At heart he believed in an egalitarian society in which all were equal and equally blessed with opportunities and financial rewards … Jimmy looked below as he climbed up the steep gangplank. He saw his mother. Maria Coughlin-O’Sullivan, and his sisters, Elizabeth, Ellen May, whom they had nicknamed Ester, and Mary, who were holding tightly on to his half-sister Margaret, while his half-brother Daniel held the hand of his mother. They were proud of him and smiled and waved gleefully with the children waving their little Union Jacks. There had been no nay saying at home, just good wishes for him on this adventure of a lifetime. He returned their smiles and quickly found a space by the rail so he could bid them ‘Bon Voyage’. For some reason he didn’t feel apprehensive at all, for he just knew he would be returning home someday. Elizabeth, his sister whom had been given the nickname Betty, had that same feeling and told him so at home. She was absolutely certain he would return back into the welcoming arms of his family. So, as the ship pulled away from her berth at London’s dockside, Jimmy felt no regret, no pinning for the home that was fast disappearing into the distance. Someday in the near future he would return a hero, well, maybe not a hero, but nonetheless he would return …

* * *

When Ernest was ten his mother would ask his brothers, Where is Ernest? They would sing out, You know where he is mummy, he’s at the stables …

Ernest loved horses and would help the stablemen clean the stalls and if a horse was sick he would stay with it for hours and hours, there was nothing he would not do for them. Even when he was a young boy he said to his father, When I grow up I want to go and work in the stables … His father, Alfred, would give him a condescending scolding look and reply, That job has no future, son, you are going to work on the railways like your brother, and myself, for you are going to be an engine driver and that is that. I want to hear no more of this stable poppycock my boy … His father really wanted him to be an engine driver, in fact, he wanted him to be the youngest driver in all Britain. This saddened Ernest for his every thought was of the venerable horse and how he could be near them. Even so, Ernest started as a cleaner with the Great Eastern Railways just after his fourteenth birthday. His father, Alfred, had got him a position with them at the London Stratford Railway Works and told him when he started, Now you can earn your keep and give something back to your mother for all her hard work nurturing you throughout the years … It would take him many years, but, eventually, he would become a railway locomotive engineer and engine driver, though his love for flesh and blood horses was never replaced by the steel horse that rode on lines made of steel. He and Albert shared lodgings at Leytonstone and Ernest joined the local running club and won many races. Albert was already an apprentice in the railway engine maintenance section but he yearned for more, he yearned to be on the front line and being a hero, he wanted it desperately, all his friends ever talked about now was joining up and giving the Hun what for. Some of the older boys he had known at home had already joined the Suffolk Regiment and done their training and would be on their way to France shortly. Albert envied them and so did Ernest, when he saw a khaki clad soldier the young boy would always salute him smartly and stand to attention. When Albert saw this he always chided and ribbed his brother. But he understood the young lad’s yearning, he too was disgusted with what the Germans had done in Belgium, and how the Kaiser had manipulated, twisted and exploited the situation in Serbia and Russia to attack Belgium and then France. Their duplicity had been without rival. And because of this the men, women and children of Europe had tasted German steel in the form of bullets, artillery shells and the sharpened edges of bayonets. Throughout Britain nationalistic fervor was rising. There was much banter at lunch between the apprentices at the railway works in Stratford while they sat and consumed their vitals … We would really teach those Hun a good lesson or two if we were over there, sneered one of the lads out the corner of his mouth as he chomped down on his sandwich.

Yes, they wouldn’t last more than a day with all the food coming out o’ yer’ gob matey, replied a tall boy in coveralls called James.

Are you joining up then? asked Albert of him.

Of course, as soon as I turn eighteen … And you … when are you going over? noted James.

The same, but I’ll be joining up next month though, that’s when my birthday is … said Albert reservedly, for now that he was going to join up his bravado and cocky assuredness were now fast disappearing. He had seen the lists of the dead and had heard of the carnage the Germans had wrought upon the Allied forces, even though the papers and government tried to hide it. He had begun to have second thoughts. There was a lot of talk from Lord Asquith and Kitchener but this war was beyond them, the world had moved on and so had the art of war, the all out conflict Britain was enmeshed in had them totally outfoxed, they were way out of their depth … Lloyd George knew this, and it was his firm hand that was needed at the helm …

Albert had a sweetheart in Saxmundham, he had known her all his life and her parents’ house was not too far away. He had travelled up from Leytonstone one weekend where he lived while working as an apprentice for the railway … Albert stood in the pasture behind their house next to the sea, grey waves with frothy foam attacked the shoreline and the wind blew his hair all over the place. Small droplets of water from the grey clouds above struck his face as he held on to his girlfriend Meredith in a warm loving embrace. Albert, I don’t want you to go … said Meredith softly.

Neither do I, now that I’m actually going, he answered.

Can’t you talk to them, tell them we’re planning to get married. I mean, it is what you want as well, isn’t it? she continued in her Suffolk home country lilt.

Of course, there is no one else I would rather spend my life with …

Then tell them you can’t go, pleaded Meredith, her black long skirt and white ruffled blouse getting a tad wet and windblown even though Albert held her close to him. Her dark hair was tied in a bun with two attractive ribbons entwining it.

They can’t do this to us, Albert. That Kaiser is a very nasty man and who knows what may happen to you once you’re in France, continued Meredith.

Nothing will happen to me my dearest, you’ll see, I’ll be back in no time and we can have our engagement party then … said Albert smiling.

Meredith looked crossly at him. Don’t look at me like that, Albert said with a look of mock hurt on his face. Besides, I have something for you … he added, pulling something small from his pocket. Meredith’s quizzical look turned to one of glee when she saw what it was, a ring!

It’s not the best but it’s all I can afford now, I promise you I’ll get you a better one when I get back from the front …

Meredith put her arms around his neck and gave him the biggest most slobbery kiss he’d ever had. It’s the most wonderful ring in the world Albert, and don’t you dare ever think of replacing it … she said as Albert got down on one knee and slipped the ring on her finger. Will you marry me? he asked.

Of course Albert … said Meredith wrapping her arms around his neck once more as he stood up. In the upstairs window of his parents house Albert caught sight of his younger siblings mocking him. He turned back to the woman in his arms and kissed her on the lips as the rain started to fall. The little droplets had now turned into a proper North Sea rain storm so he grabbed Meredith’s hand and ran with her through their garden past the big apple tree, the cherry tree and rows of tomato plants on sticks to the back door of his parents’ house and