Active Service Companies

In previous posts I've made several references to the "Active Service Companies" of the King's Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment). An explanation is overdue!

The Second South African War, or Boer War, fought against the Boer republics of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State, began badly for Britain. Several disastrous military reverses were suffered, highlighting gross deficiencies in the Army's structure and organisation. Hurriedly, the government rushed additional troops to South Africa from all corners of the Empire and gradually began to get the upper hand, but a lot of damage to national prestige had been done and Britain's standing in the eyes of other world powers was somewhat diminished. Public opinion at home was a mixture of outrage and dismay that a group of colonial settler-farmers should be inflicting such humiliation on what was then the world's greatest power. Consequently the political situation was rather grave.

On the outbreak of war groups of Volunteers had, perhaps somewhat optimistically, offered their services, but these were rejected, mainly through prejudice, the prevailing military opinion being that the men of the Volunteer Force were little more than "toy soldiers." However, the politicians belatedly realised that there was a large body of semi-trained men available for ready deployment to assist with the operations, and that utilisation of them would both help to assuage the public's discontent and, more importantly, tap into their patriotism. Consequently, the offers were reconsidered and in late 1899 the War Office issued a call to the Yeomanry companies and Volunteer Force battalions affiliated to the various county regiments to supply Active Service Companies to serve in South Africa. Subsequently it is estimated that as many as 20,000 Yeomanry and Volunteers served in South Africa, with contingents also being supplied from Canada and Australia.

Over the next two years the 1st Volunteer Battalion of the King's Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment) and, after it's formation in 1900, the 2nd Volunteer Battalion as well, provided four drafts of Volunteers, with men being drawn from the detachments at Lancaster, Morecambe, Barrow-in-Furness, Ulverston, Dalton-in-Furness, Millom and Hawkshead. There were three separate Active Service Companies despatched to South Africa and one Relief Draft to strengthen the First Active Service Company.

The criteria for selection of the men were rather strict, and led to a lot of would-be volunteers being rejected on the grounds of health, age, and proficiency. One notable area of concern was the requirement to be adept with the standard Army rifle, an area in which most Volunteer detachments had only developed rudimentary skills due to the obvious civilian training restrictions placed on them. The number of men rejected was high and the unlucky ones would have felt this rejection quite keenly, especially when set against the great swell of public emotion which accompanied the formation and despatch of the Active Service Companies; the men were feted royally, both when they departed and when they returned.

However, many Volunteers were accepted and were formally enlisted into the parent regiment as regular soldiers, on regular pay, for a fixed term of one year with the Colours, being posted to the strength of the 2nd Battalion upon arrival in South Africa.

Although no Volunteers were killed in action, two men, both Lancastrians serving in the First Active Service Company, died of disease, and several others were invalided home through sickness. At the end of their period of engagement some chose to remain in South Africa, accepting regular appointments in the King's Own, or joining local civilian and military organisations. Most of the ones who returned home would have continued to serve as Volunteers and would later have transferred to the new Territorial Force when it was created in 1908. Some of them would go on to serve in the First World War; at least four of the Volunters are known to have been killed in that conflict.

The Furness contingent of the First Active Service Company, photographed at Bowerham Barracks, Lancaster on May 10th, 1900, wearing their Volunteers' uniforms. The only definitely identified Volunteer is Ulverstonian Private James Penny, who is ninth from the left on the third row up. However, Colour Sergeant P. Tyrell may be recognised from his rank badge, sitting sixth from the left on the second row up. He was invalided home in June, suffering from enteric fever (Barrow Archive Office).

Private Wilfred Ashcroft, the author of the diary published previously on this blog, is also on this photograph, although sadly I do not know which one he is.

The Ashcroft Diaries: Part 4

Here's the final instalment of Wilf Ashcroft's journal. It ends abruptly on April 19th, 1902. He gives a clue as to why he didn't continue with it - his book was full - but I feel that someone so committed to recording his activities and thoughts would have been able to overcome that obstacle without too much difficulty. Whatever the reason, it's a pity, because I find this sort of narrative so much more interesting than the higher-level accounts penned by the military historians.

The newspapers did continue to print letters from other men in the Active Service Company and in due course I'll publish a selection of them.

Saturday, April 7th. – Our men have been on watch all night, and it is time this boat was cleaned up a bit, as she is filthy, and it will show the crew how it should be. I get out of it all with being orderly at mess, but have to wash up and clean tables and decks ready for inspection. There is no butter served on this boat, and no milk in the tea, so it is pay, pay, pay, to the crew for our own grub.

Sunday, April 8th. – We arrived at Port Elizabeth at six o’clock on Saturday night, and anchored outside about one and a half miles from the shore. It is a little place, and not much to see. It is the first time our chief officer has been this way, and as the captain is very ill we have to go very slowly. It is a bad coast, so it is safer. We set off for East London at 4.30 this afternoon, and we landed only about 16 men at Port Elizabeth.

Monday, 9th April. – We arrived here this morning at 7.30, and we are about half a mile offshore. We are landing about 400 men of different regiments. We will likely sail again tonight. The “Avondale Castle” is here, and she is a fine boat, and looks a lot better than this miserable ship of ours. You will have read the report about this badly managed boat, and I hope they get fined again. Although I am not taking any harm, and will look after myself. There are a lot on this boat been in several engagements, and are going back. I wish this book had been three times as big, and then I could have kept it and told you how I went on to the front. I must cut it short, and write letters occasionally, and then you will know.

April 9th, 1900 s.s. “Nile,” East London, South Africa. – Dear Mother, I am writing a few lines, hoping you are all well, as I am in the best of health, and can eat anything that comes on the boards. I tell you it is no Mayor’s dinner or supper either, but it comes on, and is soon put out of sight, and no complaints. It is a very poor boat, as you will know before you get this, but I won’t be sorry when we leave her, as we have only two days more on her, and then we will be at Durban, We will proceed to Pietermaritzburg and then to Ladysmith. This is a very nice place to look at from where we are, half a mile from shore or more, and I can only see anything through glasses, and that is not much. We landed here this morning about 7-30 or 8 a.m., and will sail tonight. There are a lot of men staying here, and are just leaving this boat. I tell you they are ready for anything, as they have 100 rounds of ammunition and two days’ rations, and have to go to Bloemfontein from this station. That is a nine mile march; they are the Bedford and Norfolk and Lincoln Militia, and they are a proper rough lot. I pity the Boers as they meet. We have just heard that Lord Kitchener has lost 1,100 men, but cannot think it is true, as there are no papers to read. I have filled my diary book very near, and will send it on later. I wish it had been bigger. You will read all particulars in it, and know how we are enjoying ourselves. We got served out with hammocks last night, and it was the first time for four days and nights. There were no blankets, and we did not want any. I slept like a king till six this morning, and could have slept all day if they would have let me. I have no stamps, but are as well without, as a letter will come just the same without. We are better accommodated on this boat than on the “Tagus,” and two of the men are just settling matters in the way of a fight. They could not keep their feet, as the decks are so slippery in hob nailed boots, and they are just about done up. If you write you must not forget the number, and this is how to address it:- Private Ashcroft, (No. 7305), 1st Volunteer Company Royal Lancaster Regiment, Field Force, South Africa.

Tuesday, 10th April. – We stopped in harbour all day and night, and will set off on Wednesday. There a lot of men left us, and I am not sorry, as the Militia are a coarse lot. Now there are only volunteers left on board.

Wednesday, 11th April. – Left here this dinner time, and set off for Durban. I am told off for watch from 12 till 4 in the morning and night, and it is a lot better on deck. I wish we were off this boat as I am sick of sailing.

Sunday, April 15th. Elandslaagte Camp. I am writing a few lines to let you know that I am quite well, and hope you are the same. We are in camp in this place, where General Symons was killed, and we have been sleeping with arms and ammunition by our side, as we are lying in wait for the Boers coming this way at any moment. I wish they would come, and we would attack them and show them the way. I daresay you know more about the war than we do, for we have seen nothing yet, and don’t think they will let us know much. I have been put in the signallers, and will know more about the war than the other men. The other signallers have been shot or wounded. I was talking to one of our signallers at Pietermaritzburg, He was doing heliographing, and a bullet struck the glass, and he was shot in three places.

Wednesday, April 18th. I am writing this morning to let you know that we were out doing the attack in fun, and I was glad when it was over, as it is so hot. Carrying 150 rounds of ammunition is no fun to carry about and run over rough kopjes and through long grass up to our waist, and through trenches and barbed wire fences. There are about thirty thousand troops camping around here, with over 15 miles of a front, and we are in the centre and have big guns on all sides. There are 15 of us in a tent, and we have to make the most of the small space and have everything ready for our hands. I have to go to the outpost tonight, and there are 20 of us Volunteers told off every night.

Thursday, April 19th. This morning I came in off outpost, and it is a very risky job, as we have to keep our eyes and ears open. I was posted at a colliery where the Boers had been and blown it up, and they had made a smash of it. There are two collieries, and one is working after it had been blown up, as they had a spare engine. We had to lie down among slack coal and make ourselves as comfortable as possible, and take a nap after we came off sentry, as we have only one hour on at a time, and all sorts of funny sounds come along the veldt as Kaffirs, dogs and cattle come straggling along. It began to rain, and made us very miserable, as everything was wet and black, and it is just the time the Boers are expected, and you have to be ready any second. The captain came round and he was soon challenged, and he asked me to keep my eyes open for any signal from a suspected farm, and I saw them signal “C.O.,” and reported it to him, and he sent a patrol to see what it meant, and they could not find out what it was, but are keeping it under supervision, and I pity the man who gets caught. I could see the flashes from the Boers in front, about six miles away, and reported that, and they are supposed to be moving big guns and are getting ready for a move. I hope you get this, and let me know if you received my diary. I had a good wash in water like mud, and cannot get more, as the river for good water is four miles away. I am sending you a bit of fern, like maiden hair fern; there are thousands of different varieties.

The Ashcroft Diaries: Part 3

Another instalment from Wilfred Ashcroft's diary, maintained while he was travelling out to South Africa as part of the First Active Service Company of the King's Own. What strikes me about this and similar writings from 'other ranks' soldiers of this time is the generally high standard of the work and its observant content. True, there are grammatical errors and sentence construction is often laborious (I could be accused of the same thing, no doubt), but, considering that men of his class probably only ever had a rudimentary education I consider it quite remarkable. A common refrain is that educational standards have declined. Maybe, maybe not. What I am sure of is that in these days of email and text-speak, letter writing and diary-keeping is a dying art. Over a century on I wonder if he ever thought that his thoughts would still be of interest to anyone - and so readily accessible to those interested?

Once again, a warning: this was written at a time when the use of racially-slanted epithets was commonplace. I make no apologies for transcribing it unedited so, if offended, then go and read someone else's blog.

Friday, March 30th – There is nothing fresh for me to tell you today, only that we are travelling at the best speed we can, and the average speed is about 17 knots. The captain says he is going to keep it up till we get to Capetown, and it means 370 miles in the 24 hours, as we always slow down in the daytime. It is getting very breezy now, and a deal colder, and more like our own weather at home. Still it is very musty down below, and we are glad to get up in the morning when we wake and it is sometimes between 4 and 5, and we think it late at 6 o’clock. The ship’s bakers are always busy, as they have to bake bread for us all, and we have fresh bread twice a day, but it is very sad and soon go sour; and I am always glad to eat the biscuits as they are hard but sweet and very appetising, and you don’t feel hungry so soon after them. We have beef and rice for breakfast, and mutton or beef for dinner, and cheese or jam and bread for tea, so I don’t think we are doing so very badly. There is going to be a tug-of-war between our team and the West Kent’s tomorrow, and it will be very exciting, as they are all big men. Ours have the best of it as they are the heaviest.

Saturday, March 31st – I have been orderly for our mess today as we take it in turns, and it comes my turn every four days. We have to wash all the pots and scrub decks and tables, and there are eight and sometimes more men at our table, and they make some dirty pots, but we get off parade when we are orderly and have plenty of spare time on our hands. The officers are very strict about the pots, tins and tables, and if they see a speck they will give you a sentence of some sort. There are two of our men on extra drill for dirty tables. They call them defaulters, and make them go round and help the others to scrub and clean their messes. They got ready for the tug-of-war this afternoon, and when the Kents saw our men, they said, “is this a sample of your regiment?” and the officer it was. There were ten aside, and they had to pull three times, and the best out of three won. Our team won each game easily, and they got 8d.each given and have to pull again on Monday and Tuesday. On Monday they pull the Lancashire Fusiliers, and on Tuesday they pull the Yeomanry, and our officers say they can pull anything on the ship. They are going to give them some more money if they win. Our officers let us have a concert tonight for winning the tug-of-war, and it is very nice, and makes you think of good old England and home when you hear the songs and music. It does seem like a long time since we set off and this is only a little over a fortnight. It is surprising how we can sail away for days without seeing a ship of any sort when there is such a lot in this world. Now there is no fish to see, or anything to look at, only the briny deep, and wonder what a mighty power there is in such mountains of water, and our good ship goes up and down over the waves and never says she is tired of running. I will tell you about this mighty ocean if ever I get home again, and then you can have a better idea.

Sunday, April 1st – This is April Fool Day, and when we got up all sorts of dodges were played to see the fool. Some said they could see land and then there was a rush up stairs to see they had been made a fool and came back and tried someone else. One of the men told the guards his officer wanted him at the saloon and he stood outside for nearly an hour, when he bethought himself and went away to his post very much upset. The Yeoman that was out of his mind is better again and is walking around as usual. I daresay he feels very strange. I hope he will behave himself in future, as he is about the wealthiest man on board this ship and lost a lot of money at cards the day before sailing. He got among card sharpers and they did him out of £55. We got paid yesterday and they knocked 5s. 5d. off for barrack room damages at Lancaster. I did not break a thing of any kind but have to help those that did break chairs, beds, or pots. There is no gambling on board ship now, and it is a good job. The men that get caught get severe sentences and two of the Yeomen were caught and they are picking oakum and it will teach them to obey. Most of them think they can do as they like because they are gentlemen and want their meals first and water as well but have to wait their turn. Some of them are just the opposite and will do anything for us from Lancaster as they can see what we are and know we are just as good as the best if spoken to right, but won’t stand driving with the inferiors. One of the Yeoman told me that most of their lot had never seen a rifle before they went to the barracks, and did not know how to load or fire it. So you see they have to learn what we know and they should be a bit civil then they would learn a few bits that they will be glad of. They will be landing at Capetown and we are going with the King’s Royal Rifles and Kent and Lancashire Fusiliers to Durban or East London. I hope you are all well at home and give all my kind love and good wishes. I must say no more as it is lime juice time and I am ready for my tablespoonful, as that is our allowance for a day. It is getting very cold at night now and breezes are making this ship pitch and kick like a mad cab horse. We got served out with field bandages today and have to sew them in the right hand corner of our tunics, and so you see we do a bit of sewing and can wash and darn like good men.

Monday, April 2nd – I got up this morning to hear that it was our turn on watch again and we had to go on at 8 till 12 and then at night at the same time. Our men had to pull their team this morning and did it easy. In the afternoon they pulled again and won it and they have to pull tomorrow for the final. If they win they get £1 each given from the officers. Then they are going to pull at Capetown and if they win there they will get more. I have just come off watch, and I am not tired at all, and am writing this when a lot of snoring is going on. We are to post our own letters at the Cape. Our team has just finished the final pull of the tug of war, and won it easily, so we have won one war if no more. They could pull anything at the same game on land or sea. Yesterday they tried pulling 11 men instead of 10 on the opposite side, and our men pulled them twice over the mark before finding them out. They tried to hold on to the rails this morning, but they had to leave go or else they would have been some arms pulled off them. We have just had medical inspection, and all our men passed easily enough, so I think we will do for a bit longer voyage yet if we have to go to Durban. I will be sorry to leave this good ship that has done its passage in less than 19 days. Our tug-of-war team are badly scrubbed with the rope rubbing their arms and sides, and you can tell they had to pull. The average weight is half-a-pound short of 14 stone, and you can see they are not small men.

Tuesday, April 3rd – I got up this morning, as we had to get in full marching order for we will be landing tomorrow, and then we could see as we had lost nothing. We paraded on deck and got dismissed in about half an hour. We are about 350 miles off the Cape, and expect to reach tomorrow at 12.30 p.m.

Wednesday, April 4th – Arrived at the Cape this dinner time, and was surprised at the ships in the bay, some of the finest ships and boats I have seen. We anchored outside in the middle of the bay, as there was no room at the quayside, and we will have to wait until tomorrow for a berth. It is a beautiful bay, and the mountains look well. I hope they will allow us ashore for a night, but I don’t think they will. It is very warm, and there are plenty of sharks and whales swimming around the ship, the first whales I have seen, they are monsters, and they look like boats turned wrong side up when they come to the top to spurt.

Thursday, April 5th – We have just heard that the mail boat with our letters has been run down in the fog. She left here on Wednesday, and they call her the “Mexican.” The boat that ran her down was the “Winkfield,” which was loaded with horses and fodder for the Yeomanry. It is all up with our letters, I think, if it is true. She was built at Barrow, and I worked on her, as she trades between the West Indies and Africa, She is a fine boat, and all the lives were saved, and I hope the mails as well. We are just beginning to know what roughing it is, as we have been given our hammocks in and have to sleep on the tables or deck, in what we wear all day, and it is very hard. I will be glad to lie on the ground when we get ashore. We are going on board the “Nile” today. And they have had four deaths aboard since they set off from Southampton, and they say it is a very bad boat for grub, and I believe it too. It belongs to the same company, and was summoned for poor feeding. I think it has made her worse.

Friday, April 6th – I hope you are all well at home, and got a better bed to sleep on than a hard deck with no clothes to put on, as we are on board the “Nile,” and she is an old boat, and plenty of rats on board, which we never saw on the “Tagus.” We are lying alongside the “Nubia.” She is a fine boat for a hospital, and has a lot of our regiment on board wounded. Our dog’s owner is wounded, and he knew his dog, so we took it on board to see him. There are Colonels and all sorts of regiments on board, and they are nearly all wounded in the limbs. There are 14 of our regiment, and I don’t know how many have been sent home as unfit for further service in the Army. There are thousands of ducks in this dock, and if I had a gun I would have a feed of some sort, as I have forgotten what it is to be satisfied. We got dry bread and tea for breakfast this morning, and it is a shame, as there are a lot of men cannot stand it. It should be looked into, and the owners punished. I can do very well as I am, as I have plenty to do it on, but some of the men have not got a cent to call their own. I have been told off for orderly this voyage, and I will see if I can’t look after number one. I was storing our ammunition last night in the magazine, and was nearly roasted, as it was as dark as pitch. I had to feel where to put it, and each box weighs 80 lb. There were 50 of them, and we had nothing to eat from Wednesday only biscuits and grapes, as they are dirt cheap here. I got 3s. and 3d.worth of chocolate, and the men are catching their food in the shape of young mackerel about as big as small herring. I wish we were off instead of stopping here, as I am wanting to get ashore. They are not allowing us on shore here. We are going to call at Port Elizabeth, and so it will take us about four days. We sail at 3 o’clock this afternoon. We set off at 11.30 instead of 3 this morning and met the boat “Winkfield,” which ran the “Mexican” down, and she had her bows damaged badly. This is a far quicker boat than the “Tagus.” Her speed is 20 knots, but they say she is always breaking down, and broke down twice on her voyage from England. There are some big mountains on this coast, and I would not like to see our ship landed on them. I saw some seals this afternoon, and plenty of all kinds of birds, and they go such a height and then dive straight down. We stop at two places and that is Port Elizabeth and East London, before we get to Durban. Our regiment is at Pietermaritzburg, and they will be glad to see us, as we have hundreds of books and papers on this boat and tobacco for them. I hope they will be well enough to read them, as they are recruiting their health after all their battles. They have been in them all around Ladysmith, and have lost a lot of men, as some told us on the “Nubia.” When some of our men asked for so and so they said he was wounded and stopping at Pietermaritzburg. We are all getting as brown as niggers, and you would think we had been out here six months.

R.M.S. Nile (Boer War Transport No. 82), the ship that transferred Wilfred Aschroft and the First Active Service Company from Capetown to Durban.

The Ashcroft Diaries: Part 2

Here's another instalment from the diary of Private Wilfred Ashcroft, First Active Service Company, King's Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment). Interestingly, the military snobbery of the day comes through quite clearly. As gentlemen cavalry the Yeomanry appeared to have a rather high opinion of themselves and considered the infantry inferior. This attitude obviously caused some fiction, and there is more than just a tinge of schadenfreude in Private Ashcroft's writing when he observed one or more of the Yeomen to temporarily fall from grace. However, the men of the Active Service Company seem to have particularly resented being labelled as 'Militia' - akin to being the lowest of the low - so there was obviously a definite pecking order among the infantry too. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose, as they say in barracks everywhere.

Saturday, March 24th -  We set off from St. Vincent last night about 7.30 p.m. and steamed nearly 22 knots an hour through the night as we are trying to catch a steamer, the “Nile,” and we had caught her up a day when we got to St. Vincent as she had only gone the day before and she set off two days before us. I think this boat will catch her before Capetown, which we expect to reach Tuesday week. I was on watch all day to-day, that is from 8 to 12 in the morning, and then from 8 to 12 at night, and we are getting quite into sailor’s work. It is the first time this boat has run at her full speed as it is only on her third trip, and it can go when she likes, but it slows down through the day as I think the heat has something to do with it. It is nice and cool in the night. We had some sport with the flying fish in the night as they kept flying aboard, and they are as big as a good big herring, and about the same colour. They just look like swallows when flying, and they can fly a long way, - about 100 yards – and the ship makes them fly in dozens as she goes along. It is very warm. There is one case of dysentery on board, and that is a yeoman, although two or three of our men are on the sick list, but mostly with swelled joints. I don’t know how they have got them without it is with wearing slippers as it is mostly the ankles.

Sunday, March 25th - I have not been in bed or hammock all night as it is so close downstairs, so I went to sleep in a chair on deck, and got up early and got ready for the service. We got the fire alarm just before we were ready, and you should have seen us rush on deck, as everybody has to be ready when the alarm goes, and it is very wonderful where all the men come from. I don’t know where I would get if it was real as there is not enough boats and no sight of land and plenty of sharks to wait for bits. The life belts would be of little use if a big shark got hold of us. It is nice weather, but very monotonous, as we have never seen a ship for a couple of days. It does not matter where we go we are nearly roasted, and I pity the poor stokers when they have to put 20 ton of coal on each shift – that is 60 in a day. We slacken speed every day, but go along very quick at night, and there is always a nice breeze up, so I can stand it all right, and I don’t think I will take any harm. They sent me a packet from the North Western Drug Stores. I received it when at Lancaster the day we left. There is vaselene, health salts, shaving soap, and washing soap, carbonate of potash, and a bottle of Elliman’s embrocation. The health salts are very handy and make a nice drink in this hot weather.

Monday, March 26th – We got up this morning, and it is hotter still, and shoals of dolphins jumping out of the water. They go in a long line reaching a mile and a half, and so they won’t miss many fish. We went on hammock parade this morning, and it was very hot standing on deck in the sun till they inspected hammocks, and to see that we had our two blankets and hammock. We are going to call at St. Helena for water, as the fire alarm went yesterday and they connected the fresh water pipe instead of the salt water, and it has made us run short; but we have plenty, as we get five pints a day allowed us, and it is quite plenty. There is some of the Yeomanry in the cells picking oakum for disobeying orders, and so you see the gentlemen are the worst of all, and they need not call us Militia, as there are none of our men in the cells yet, and none in the hospital. The Yeomanry have about forty out of their lot, and a lot more ready to go in. Our men have been inoculated today, and they seem to be all right, as only one of them fainted, and he is all right now. The officers of this ship are very pleased with the boys in red, and say we are the sort they want out in Africa, and not one-eyed glass men. The Yeomanry nearly all wear an eye-glass, and come on parade in kid gloves and were frightened they would get their feet wet when washing decks. It goes dark very quickly here, and is quite dark by seven o’clock. It is nice and breezy as it has been raining, and it does not forget to rain when it starts, but comes down in torrents. The officers set off rocket and life buoy lights to-night to celebrate the last night on this side of the Equator. The lights will burn for twenty-four hours, and water cannot put them out. We could see them for a long time.

Tuesday, March 27th – Father Neptune and his wife came on board this afternoon, and you should have seen the happy couple. They had rigged up a bath, and it was about 1 foot or 18 inches deep. They caught a sailor first, and he was lathered with whitewash, and shaved with a wooden razor, and then asked him if he had been across the line before, and he said “No.” The brush went in his mouth at the same time, and then he was thrown backwards in the bath, and a couple of hose-pipes turned on him. Just to show that there was no ill feeling, he was gently held under for a bit. One of our officers was down next, and he did get a dousing, and enjoyed it immensely, finishing with turning the hose-pipe on us, and wetting everybody through within range, including the ship’s officers and our own as well. There were about 100 shaved and bearded, and all the others were wet through as there were two hose-pipes going full speed. Father Neptune looked extra well, as he was an old soldier, and had a tin crown on his head, and long strands of rope for his hair and girdle. We had a drum and fife band, comprised of tin cans and tin whistles, and it sounded like a horse on a tin roof, or rattling the zinc on the side of Abbey road with a stick, and it made a horrible noise. One of the stewards was taking some jam in the cabins when they turned the hose on him, and you should have seen him move. He was vexed and so they said he had better be still or else he would get a cheap bath whether he wished it or not, and so he cleared off, and I never saw such fun in my life. It was better than the circus carnival, and would have made a pig laugh to see the darkies dress like doctors in top hats and dress suits and drenched to the skin. Father Neptune said there was too much water flying about, and he should be a good judge, as he got wet through dozens of times, and was about drowned. Some of the Yeomanry got on the derricks out of the road, but they just got in it, and were washed out with the hose-pipe. I am sure it was never done so well and with such a lot of take-it-all-in-good-parts sort of men, as there was not one of them that grumbled. It was enough to make a fight any other day.

Wednesday, March 28th – There is nothing fresh today, only all the clothes are hanging out to dry, and it makes the ship look like a back street on a Monday afternoon. It is a bit more rocky, to-day, and some of the men are sick again. We have been sewing our identity cards in our tunics. They have our name, number, next of kin, regiment and our addresses, and are sewn in the left side corner of our tunics. I hope we will live to open them ourselves, as it will mean something dangerous if we don’t.

Thursday, March 29th – We passed the “Clan Cameron” this morning about 12.30 or 1 a.m. and she was getting towed as her propeller shaft was broken. She is bound for Capetown, and was in sore distress as she was short of water and fodder for horses on board, belonging to Paget’s Horse. I don’t know the name of the steamer that was towing her, but she will get a good sum for her trouble, as they are six days sail off the Cape and are going with all speed. We stopped for about two hours to see what had happened, and they signalled to us name and accident and what had happened. We had a military funeral on board about half past nine this morning for one of the 2nd West Kent Volunteers, and they fired three volleys over him. He was bad when we set off, and had been in hospital all this time and died of pneumonia. He had only one lung, so he would have done no good if he had gone to South Africa. It is a sad thing to see a funeral at sea, and all the sailors had their best clothes on, and they took the chief part in the burial. The Lieutenant-Colonel read the service, and it was very touching, as all on board were listening, and his chums had to shoot over him. There were eight of them fired over him with ball cartridge. I hope none of our men are left in the sea, as it would be a bad thing to have come so far and then to be left behind.

The S.S. Tagus, the troopship that carried Wilfred Ashcroft and the men of the First Active Service Company of the King's Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment) to South Africa.

More to come..........

The Ashcroft Diaries: Part 1

No, not the musings of Lord Ashcroft, the non-dom Tory Party donor and VC collector. Instead, just the everyday writings of a private soldier sent off to fight in South Africa in the Second Anglo-Boer War.

In 1900, Wilfred Ashcroft of Barrow-in-Furness was a member of the local Volunteer Force, being a private in the 1st Volunteer Battalion, King’s Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment). When the War Office made a call for men to serve in South Africa he, along with many other members of the Volunteers, agreed to enlist for a period of twelve months in the Regular Army, forming the First Active Service Company of the King’s Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment). This unit sailed from Southampton to South Africa on the S.S. Tagus on March 16th, 1900, arriving at Cape Town on April 4th, 1900 and subsequently joining the 2nd Battalion on active service in Natal after trans-shipping to Durban on the S.S. Nile. His service in South Africa was curtailed by illness (presumably either dysentery or enteric fever) and he was invalided home and discharged from the Army in early 1901, although he received the Queen's South Africa Medal in recognition of his services.

The 1st Active Service Company on parade at Bowerham Barracks, 1900 (King's Own Museum).

During his period in the Regular Army he maintained a detailed diary, extracts of which were printed in the local newspaper. In due course I'll publish all of them, or at least as many as are available, for they suddenly stopped appearing in the paper. Whether this was because he had ceased writing, or perhaps the newspaper no longer wanted to print them, I'll never know. Whatever the reason, it is a shame, because his (un-pc) writings provide far more colour and insight into the life of an ordinary soldier of that time than a dry regimental history can ever do.

I have a photograph of Private Ashcroft, or at least I have a group photograph of the 1st A.S.C., although I don't know which of the men he is. He volunteered again in 1914, rejoining the King's Own and serving in France with the 1st Battalion. His soldiering days finally ended at the Heidenkopf Redoubt, near Serre, on July 1st, 1916 - one of the nearly 19,000 British dead on the first day of the Battle of the Somme. In 2003 the body of a King's Own soldier killed that day was found on the site of their attack on the Heidenkopf Redoubt. It is just possible it was 18062, Private Wilfred Ashcroft.

Friday, March 16th. – Embarked at Southampton; sailed half an hour after embarkation. Paraded at 7 p.m. for hammocks. Slung hammocks and made beds. Fell in bed at 10.p.m. Lights out 10.30.

Saturday, March 17th. – Got up at 7 a.m. Breakfast at 8.30. A lot of sickness but I am well. In the Bay of Biscay. Nice weather, but a heavy swell. Rough weather last night, everything lashed down and all troops below at 7.30 p.m. Passed a German steamer, name “Hedwie Woeman," and she was very low in the water and rolling heavily. Still a lot of sickness.

Sunday, March 18th. – Had a rough night, and was ready to get up this morning, and we went on deck as soon as could get, but had to stow hammocks and tidy up a bit. I saw some porpoises this morning, the first fish I have seen since starting. It is very rough, and the spray is wetting everything through. We got out of the Bay of Biscay about ten this morning, but are in rough weather yet. We are having church service on board to-day, when it is a bit finer and get coffee and bread. We passed a barque, but could not read her name. I am fairly surprised at my good sailor qualities, as I have never felt a bit sick yet, and have never missed a meal. I got some oranges this morning. I am fairly champion now, but had a bad cold when we set off, and it was snowing very hard, so you see we went from Barrow in snow, and left Lancaster, and we had snow on board yesterday.

Monday, March 19th. – It is a very fine day, and I am sitting in the sun on the deck near the guard-room, as I have to go on guard at one p.m., and then again at the same time tonight. We have seen no more boats since yesterday morning. We have our quarters on the lowest deck, and it is very musty in the morning, as there are 108 of us in a place not that big. We passed a full-rigged barque this afternoon, her name being “Dundonald,” bound for Africa. I saw some porpoises this afternoon, and you should see them jump. We are out on deck all night, and it is very nice, better than being below. We captured a prisoner tonight. They brought him out of hospital, as he was out of his mind, and they put him in the cells, as he was dangerous. He is one of the Imperial Yeomanry, and a fine, big fellow. He tried to get overboard the other day, and they caught him and took him to the hospital, and then he tried to cut his throat. So you see we had to watch him. They say it was the sea sickness that sent him mad, but I think he had too much whisky aboard, as he said to me when I went on sentry at the door “Give me a pint of bitter, sentry.” I said “You will get it next watch.”

Tuesday, March 20th. - I have been up all night, and am now having a rest down below as I am not on duty. We passed the point of Madeira this morning, and did look a rocky coast, and I was glad we were far enough off them. We saw a big steamer pass the other way this morning, but it was too dark to make her out, as we could only see her lights and hull. The officers have been having revolver practice this afternoon on the forecastle head at a tin can, and there are some marvellous good shots among them. They could hit it every time, left hand as well as the right. Our officers are very quick with the revolver, and could draw very quick. They were much applauded. We have been getting complimented on our smartness and soldier like manner. The Yeomen call us Militia, but we can show them how to drill.

Wednesday, March 21st. – Getting very warm weather here, and all the awnings are put up on deck and that makes it nice and cool underneath. We had physical drill on the bridge deck after dinner, and it makes us very warm. The Yeomanry officers took our photos as we were doing it. I don’t know how we will look. Some of the men have been inoculated, and it has made them very ill for a day or two. They say it is a proof against fever.

Thursday, March 22nd. – I went on deck this morning, as it was so hot down below, and it was like being in a tent, so nice and cool. It was stifling below decks. We expect to land at St. Vincent tomorrow morning, and then we will take coal and set off again. It will be strange to see land again after such a long sail. We are having firing exercise this afternoon, and it is surprising how you can see the bullets strike the water a mile or so away. It is a good boat this, and makes about 13 to 15 knots an hour. Her best run in 24 hours was 373 miles. I hope I can keep as well as I am now all the time I am away, and then I won’t grumble. I often go in the forecastle, as there are a lot of darkies in the crew, and they are very good on the fiddle and banjo. They can sing some good songs, and it passes the time away better than lounging about below. We have very good rations on board, stewed beef and bread for breakfast and beef for dinner, and then we have bread and butter for tea, and it is very good bread and is made on board every day. I have only tasted biscuits twice. Once when on guard we had some biscuits and coffee, and we got some served on deck once. I like them better than bread for a change. I was in bed or hammock soon after sunset, and it is quite comfortable. It takes two or three nights to get used to them, for if you are not careful you fall out, and then you get a nice bump.

Friday, March 23rd. – We arrived here soon after breakfast, and it is a beautiful harbour, but the land is solid rock without a tree on it or a bit of grass. We were in sight of land when we got up, and I never thought there was such a rocky coast about here. It was not long before the coal barges arrived, and it is a treat to watch the niggers working. They work like horses, and go about three times as much as an Englishman, and they are as strong as horses, and never stop work to speak to one another. There are dozens of men and boys selling fruit, and we can get as many bananas or oranges as we can lift for 6d. I don’t know where they get them from, but they are as sweet and big as ever I saw, I have been wondering if there is coal here, or if they have to fetch it from other places. There are many different kinds of fish here, and one of the men caught a small shark. Flying fish and some fish like gold fish, but a lot bigger and shaped like a roach, and there are thousands swimming around the ship in swarms. If we throw a piece of bread in they come fairly thick after it. The men and boys can swim and dive like ducks, and they never miss a copper if thrown in to them. It does look like a dried up land, and I don’t think the fruit can grow here. There is a fine cruiser, name “Cambrian” here, and we are anchored close to it. The bluejackets were pleased to see us, and came in boats to take our officers ashore. The darkies are very frightened of them, and clear out of the road as soon as they turn up. The darkies are the very same colour as the rocks, that is, copper colour, and a finer set of men I would not wish to see. They should be too, as they get plenty of exercise with swimming, rowing and coaling boats. One of their boats had a nice lot of fish, and they were all a nice gold colour, and some big ones as large as a big cod. They say there are a lot of sharks about, but the boys don’t mind them, as they have been diving all day. I should think we have taken 800 tons of coal in, as there were eight barges full, and we sail again at seven p.m., so you see the darkies can work, and they never sweat over it. It has been the hottest day we have had yet, and we are brown as the niggers, but more colour, as they have no red in their cheeks. I wish you could have had a trip out here in your younger years, as it would have suited you grand, and if I was an engineer I would soon be at sea and see all the sights of this beautiful world. We are four days off the line, so we will cross about Tuesday. You have no idea of the heat of the sun. I never thought I should ever see the sights I have seen, and be in the hottest part of the world, but I shall soon have been, and in such a strange way I am as happy as a lark. I think I have said enough for today.

To be continued.........

A mystery officer: Part 1

The murder of Hollywood film mogul William Desmond Taylor on 1st February, 1922, was a celebrity scandal of its time. The crime has never been solved, despite several suspects being identified, including his brother, Denis Gage Deane-Tanner, an ex-officer of The King's Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment).

 

William Deane-Tanner a.k.a. William Desmond Taylor

The Deane-Tanners were born in Ireland, sons of an ex-British Army officer, Major Kearns Deane-Tanner. William Cunninghame Deane-Tanner, as he then was, sailed for America in 1890 at the age of 18. There, he flirted briefly with a career on the New York stage before conveniently marrying an actress with a wealthy father who set him up as an antiques dealer.

After divorcing his wife he then changed his name to William Desmond Taylor and moved to Hollywood, appearing in four films before moving into directing them, starting with The Awakening (1914). Over the next few years he directed more than fifty films, such was the output of the studios in those days. In June 1918, he enlisted in the Canadian Expeditionary Force as a private and, after basic training, was sent to England, although because of his age  he saw no active service, being instead transferred to the Royal Army Service Corps, where he was responsible for the running of a canteen at Dunkirk with the rank of Temporary Lieutenant. He was eventually demobilised while serving as a Major in the Royal Fusiliers, and returned to the burgeoning Hollywood film scene where he made his fortune.

At some time on 1st February, 1922, he was shot in the back and killed at his bungalow at Alvarado Court Apartments. Simple robbery did not appear to be the motive as valuable personal posessions were still on his person, although a large sum of money which it was known he had drawn out of a bank shortly before, was found to be missing.

Hollywood was awash with rumour and various scandalous theories did the rounds in the broadsheets. However, no-one was ever prosecuted and to-day, the murder remains unsolved. One theory aired was that it was part of a family feud and that it was his brother, Denis, who was the murderer.

I know little of Denis Gage Deane-Tanner apart from one curious fact; around 1900 he was living in the Barrow-in-Furness area and had probably been there for some time. What he was doing there I don't know, but he first appears as a member of the local Volunteer Detachment, the precursor to the Territorial Force.

After the initial reverses suffered by the British Army in the Second Anglo-Boer War  (and politically embarrassing reverses, too, given that the Kaiser's Germany was watching Britain's performance with great interest), a decision was made to increase the number of soldiers available to fight by recruiting men from within the ranks of the Volunteer Force. Each line regiment had its affiliated Volunteer Battalion(s), that of the King's Own being based at Ulverston; it was styled, naturally enough, the 1st (Volunteer) Battalion, The King's Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment). This was a quintessentially Victorian organisation, the very essence of amateur soldiering, but, nevertheless the call went out for men to volunteer for a period of 1 year's service in the Regular Army.

Perhaps to the surprise of the War Council, the response was overwhelming and, of course, many who put their names forward had to be weeded out as being either too old or too unfit for the rigours of the South African campaign. One of the Volunteers who was accepted for service was Private Denis Gage Deane-Tanner.

To be continued.........