Born 08 March 1895, died 22 March 1934 at 60 Whitmore Gardens, Kensal Rise, London.
Married Theodora Mary PLATTS 23 September 1922 at St Luke`s church, West Kilburn, London.
3 children:-
Peter Wilfred John BATES, b. 27 December 1924
Barbara Marie BATES, b. 02 September 1927
Gwendolen Diana BATES, b. 04 December 1928
It has been suggested that it would interest most members of the family if I wrote the story of my life in the army. I will therefore do what I can to set down here the experiences, pleasant and otherwise, that I had during my service of three years and five months with the colours.
Just before the war broke out when all kinds of rumours were being spread, I well remember how four of us sat and discussed the chances of peace or war. We spoke of it lightly and hoped it would be war and so be rid of the German menace for ever, but we little guessed what war meant to us personally, and that three of the four of us were to give our lives fighting in France.
The first one of the four from the office to go as a volunteer was Sellwood, who used to sit just opposite me on the department. ( Dad was employed by the Yokohama Specie Bank in the City of London). He joined the 10th battalion Royal Fusiliers and went to Colchester, from which place he often wrote to me and came to see me when on weekend leave. He served in France for over two years and was killed in action early in 1917.
Next to join was Clark, who also joined the Fusiliers and donned a blue uniform, the uniform which was strafed so much at the time, and he, I believe trained at Salisbury. He went to France quite quickly and I remember him coming into the office unexpectedly with full kit one afternoon straight from the trenches. That was the last time I ever saw him, as he too was killed in action soon afterwards.
Then Stevens joined in the Public Schools battalion and went away to train at Purley. I never saw him again from the day he left the office, for, after obtaining a commission in the Oxford & Bucks Regiment, he was also killed in action towards the end of 1917. So, one after the other all the juniors left the office and only those were left who had failed to pass what was in those days was a very strict medical examination. It was not until October 1915 that I got into khaki, just the day before we moved from Harvist Road to Golders Green, and from the 28th October 1915 until the 23rd February 1919, I was attired always in khaki. I had obtained permission the day before from the office to enlist, and so in the early hours of the morning I went to Putney to enlist in the City of London Yeomanry. It was pouring with rain and I waited for something like two hours before seeing the doctor, who, with apparent misgivings passed me fit for service. I took my papers to the orderly room where they asked me when I could report for duty. I had expected to start straight away and so I told them I had business matters to attend to and could not report until the following Monday. I was then formally sworn in by the C.O. who told me that I looked a likely person for a soldier and was sent off to the Quarter Master`s stores to be fitted up with khaki. At the stores I had clothes, boots, brushes, razors, etc, thrown at me from all directions and I found myself outside the building in less than five minutes from entering it, a soldier with uniform complete. I was taken round to a billet near Putney Common to change my clothes, and after much trouble with puttees and army boots, emerged a full blown trooper minus the spurs. I had my kit bag stuffed full of changes of rainment, a bowler hat and a pair of army boots tied to its mouth and departed on my first leave of absence. On my way home I met Mr. Higgins at Kensington church, an incident which always stands out in my mind as he got off an omnibus simply to shake hands and without a word ran back and board it again. Ma, I remember was somewhat shocked when I walked into the house that afternoon, and wept copious tears, which soon disappeared when she felt the weight of my boots and saw the quality of my clothes and quickly became quite inquisitive. That night I went to a concert at Salusbury Road Schools at Ma`s especial request and felt several sorts of an ass as I naturally attracted some attention.
On Monday morning I reported for duty at the Putney Headquarters and was received with scowls from the Sergeant Major for being ten minutes late. I was taken round to a billet which was in Portinscale House, Portinscale Road, and was placed in an upper room with some ten others, mostly new recruits. I was handed my bed, which consisted of three blankets, three boards, two trestles and a pallias (se) and received a lecture on tidiness and the general routine of duty. Then I went down to dinner and I shall never forget that first meal in the army. As the door opened in one of the lower rooms, everybody dashed in to secure a plate. Not being educated up to that sort of thing I did not get a plate, so I bagged a basin, and with the others fought my way to the next table where stew was being served up. Having, after a struggle received my ration, I sat down to a very greasy table and had thrown at me from the other end of the room, two underdone potatoes boiled in their skins. I ate dinner without much appetite and nearly lost dinner and breakfast on receiving a large portion of plum duff on my dirty plate. Like many others, I was unable to touch it that day, but I was soon broken in to that sort of thing. The afternoon was spent in learning the mysteries of cavalry drill on the road outside, and teatime found me with a good appetite. Here too my stomach revolted at the methods of the army. One thick slice of bread was thrown at me from a big bucket, and a lump of margarine, and one man on the table brought one bowl of tea between four of us with the information that we were to use the four points of the compass when drinking, north being marked by a large piece missing from the bowl. I, of course, drank from the point decided on as north as I was the last one to drink. Then with the close of my first day`s training came bedtime and I was initiated into the joys of making my own bed and trying to sleep midst the snorts, groans, and creakings of my companions in distress.
I soon settled down to the life, for as I realise now, we had a very easy time to begin with. Each morning found me rising at 6.30 a.m., answering roll call in the garden below, drilling, or route marching during the day and off at night to spend it as best I could.
I had only been in the army a week, when for the first and last time, I marched through the City of Lodon with a rifle. Being tall, I, with some 30 others was chosen to represent the City of London Yeomanary in the Lord Mayor`s Show of 1915. Not one of us had ever handled a rifle before and so it was decided to give us some idea of rifle drill that night as the show was on the morrow. For two long hours we struggled in the riding school with the slope, present, and order arms, and were at last pronounced efficient enough for the occasion. We started off next morning in full war paint, rolled overcoat, bandolier waistbelt etc. and very nervous about arms drill. The weather was awful and it started to rain as soon as we reached the city. I was in the front rank I remember, and retain a somewhat vague impression of Frank, (brother), waving his hand to me when we were passing the Mansion House. We came to a halt just outside Cannon Street station while the Mayor was at a service in St Paul`s Cathedral, and Lilian no doubt recalls the glass of milk she brought me from an A.B.C. restaurant in the vicinity, and the mild talking to she received from the officer in charge for breaking through the ranks.
We moved on again soon after, and came to another halt somewhere in the Strand and became soaked through in a heavy downpour of rain. From there we marched via the Strand, Charing Cross tube station, and the Embankment and finally landed at the Mansion House where we entrained for Putney and a dry suit of clothes.
I soon got to know the fellows in the Company and got into touch with many whom I afterwards met in France. Willmot was one of the first I knew, and with whom I shared some adventures afterwards. Catchpole, a celloist, Stewart Gardner, a fine baritone, Moon, a violinist, and many others whose names I cannot now remember I soon fell in with, and before the Christmas of 1915 we had formed a very fine concert party and orchestra. Sergeant Major Chapman was in charge of us and many times during our stay in Putney we entertained wounded soldiers at the various hospitals in the district.
My first Christmas in khaki I spent at home, having learned the methods of obtaining leave without a pass by that time, although I had some difficulty in persuading the Sergeant to let me off guard on Boxing Day. There were many schemes for obtaining weekend leave without a pass, but the most satisfactory method was to square the N.C.O. who took the roll at night. Putting your kit bag into your bed and getting someone else to answer your name was also a favourite method, but apt to lead to complications should the caller of the roll be inquisitive. To answer your name at roll call and then go was also a fairly reliable method, but rather a late one for me as it meant walking home.
I stayed at Putney until about 6th March 1916, and left there with many regrets. During my four months there I had had a very enjoyable time, and being in London had been able to get home frequently. The move was a sudden one, as most of my moves were, and it was the beginning of my travels in the Army. At the request of the officers, I, with the others, took my instrument (violin), and midnight of 6th March found me with about 200 more boarding the train at Euston for Ireland. The weather was very cold and sleet was falling when the train steamed into Holyhead station and I did not look forward to a very comfortable crossing. When I eventually got on board I found there was no room below, and was forced to stand on top deck in the sleet and rain. I stood there for something like four hours before the boat moved feeling fed up, but after the boat had been going for an hour I wished she had never started. The sea was very rough and spray was flying all over the ship and with the rain and sleet, things were most uncomfortable. Everybody round me was sea-sick, moaning and groaning and wishing themselves dead, and soon I began to feel querulous (?) I hung on however, until within sight of land, but just as we were running into Northwall I was sick, much to everybody`s amusement, for they had by that time got over the rough sea.
On landing we were marched to a rest camp near the river and indulged in stew and weak tea before continuing our journey. We arrived at Newbridge, some few miles from Dublin about midday and found a band, and transport for our kit waiting for us. We had just moved off, the band playing and everybody singing, when we got the order to about turn and return to the train. Somebody had discovered that we were bound for Kildare, and not Newbridge, and after much struggling for kit and accomodation in the train we arrived at our final destination. The camp was a permanent one with lines of closed in stables, gun sheds, and a large square, and on the whole looked a most unpromising place. We were lined up on the square and received a very cheering welcome from the Sergeant Major. He informed us that we had finished playing at soldiers, as per Putney style, and had been sent here to be, as he puts it, "Put through the Mill". Reveille 5.30, stables 5.45, breakfast 6.30, first parade 7., break 8 - 8.15., second parade to 10.45, stables 11 - 12.30., dinner to 1.30. and afternoon parades to 4. p.m.,. with stables 4. - 4.30, to finish the day. Stable picquet would be a duty twice a week and a main guard at least once a week. Passes would be granted at the rate of 2% and man proceeding on pass would be inspected before departure to the town. Pack drill was a favourite forn of punishment, and he, the S.M. enjoyed nothing better than seeing the square occupied each night by the defaulters. We were of course greatly cheered by this information, and more especially so, when those who had already experienced his funny little ways gave us their opinion of him after we had been dismissed.
Our sleeping quarters were very comfortable, long huts, wood lined with plenty of windows and two large fire places, one at each end of the hut. The beds were iron collapsible affairs, with biscuits, (mini mattressses), a bolster, and three blankets, and with each bed was a box for kit. Over the head of each bed was a shelf, numerous pegs for equipment, and a place behind each bed for the rifle. Everything of course had to be hung to plan, and after a day or so the hut looked a picture at inspection time.
On the morning after our arrival, (my 21st birthday, by the way), we rose promptly at reville and dashed out for the 5.45 a.m. parade. I was put in a ride, and was sent straight off to the stables to "muck out", and groom the horse ready for parade in full dress at 8.30. I had never had anything to do with horses before and approached my mount gingerly to brush it over. It was an old army horse known as the policeman, since his number was 49, quite a docile creature, and I found out afterwards that it was the best horse in the lines for a beginner. It was a very big horse, somewhat bony, and a mouth as hard as iron, and its only serious fault was it great objection to being saddled up. I had to get the help of an old stager to saddle it up at parade time, for of course I had no idea how to do it and with the horse kicking and struggling, I should never had managed it. At the sound of the fall in, I led the horse out feeling decidedly nervous and not looking forward very much to the next hour or so in the riding school. The instructor was an old soldier out to enjoy himself at our expense, and he certainly had a good time. The first order we got was to cross stirrups, which meant mounting with arms only, and when the order to mount was given, I was quite five minutes before finding myself in the saddle. Then we started to walk round the school receiving instructions as to the method of guiding the animal, and keeping a good seat.
Then the order came to trot, and we started careering round gradually gathering speed, until it became a canter. I gripped hard with my knees, shut my eyes and trusted to Providence, and retained my seat with difficulty. With a sudden order to halt, however, we all came to grief, and presented a ludicrous picture in various loving positions round the horses necks, or reclining on the floor. I found myself with both arms round the horses`s neck, much to the animal`s annoyance, as it started bucking and kicking, nearly sending me flying over its head. The horses knew the work much better than we did, and understood the orders which the Sergeant shouted quite easily, walking, trotting, halting, etc.,. without waiting for any move on the part of the rider, and so we were almost always at first taken unawares and invariably unseated. During that ride I never lost my seat entirely, but was very relieved to get order to dismount and file back to the stables. I was very sore and stiff after that morning`s adventures, and matters were not improved by an hour`s sword drill in the afternoon, and evening stables, which consisted of putting down the bed for the night, and watering and feeding, left us all quite exhausted, and we all thought longingly of those halcyon days at Putney with practically no drills at all, and plenty to occupy our leisure hours. That night we sat and discussed the best method for preventing saddle soreness, for most of us found that the lying position was the best. Tired and weary we got down to bed early, and it was only as I lay stretched out under the blankets, that I recollected that it was the 8th March and my 21st birthday. It was the first time I had ever done any hard work I think, and I am not likely ever to forget it.
For the next two or three weeks things went on as my first day. Stables early every morning, riding school, drill and sleep and I always welcomed sleep. Sometimes I was on fatigue work all day, cutting chaff or crushing oats, and once or twice I was stable orderly. Stable orderly was not a nice job and meant doing a vast amount of work. From reville until relieved by the night guard, it meant constant sweeping of floors and wheeling of wheelbarrows. The duties were to keep a line of six stables, each stable containing ten horses, spotlessly clean, to untangle entangled horses, whitewash posts, feed the horses with hay and chaff at certain intervals, and generally to see after the welfare of the brutes. Meals had to be eaten in the vicinity of the stables, as no line was allowed to be left unguarded, and on rainy days entailed going into the stables to eat, or go without. At first it was something of an ordeal, but I soon got used to it and used the wheelbarrow as a seat and table combined, for of course chairs and tables were not on the stable inventory. Then sometimes I was on night guard and spent the night partly in the guard room, and partly in the horse lines. At first, of course, the duty was done very conscientiousy and for two hours I would patrol up and down the lines tying up the stray horses and carrying out the various guard duties. Towards the end, however, it became a habit to take over for two hours and spend it sleeping soundly on the straw in the store house. I, with the other sentries, used to toss up who should remain awake to warn us of any untoward happenings, but I can never remember being unlucky.
Then, as I have found with most things in the army, discipline seemed to become relaxed a little, and some mornings found men in bed at 7.30, or in the town instead of on parade, and such jobs as chaff cutting and stable guards, became the duties of the favoured, or unfavoured few. There were always methods of dodging work if one studied the question long enough, and although I was fairly conscientious, I did my share of swinging the lead. To some people it may sound unfair to dodge work and so leave it to other people to do, and I used to think so myself at one time. To be conscientious I soon found however was fatal as a rule, especially where a weak N.C.O. was concerned, as he found it much less trouble and much more satisfactory to give fatigues to a conscientious soldier. He never groused about doing it, and what he did, he did thoroughly. With the old soldier it was vastly different. Tell him off for a fatigue and he swears he did so and so, yesterday, and that it was not his turn today. If he was made to do it he would do just enough to keep him out of trouble and leave the rest. Then as a rule, every N.C.O had pals who usually got the soft jobs, leaving the worst for people he did not like. I always found it the same, the more you did the more the more you might, yet on the whole I don`t think I can grumble at my share of fatigues.
Music, I always found was a certain means of avoiding many ardous jobs, and Kildare was not an exception to this rule. I joined the choir at Kildare Cathedral and so was immediately excused all duties on Fridays and a pass to town. Sundays of course were always free of duty to the choir, and many times I evaded Sunday duties by this means. The orchestra was soon got into working order, and with two concerts a week, and the practices beforehand, I obtained more free days of fatigues and guards. Kildare was quite a small place, rather dirty, but like all Irish towns and villages, a mass of public houses. It did not matter what kind of shop you entered, drapers, grocers, confectioners, all had a little bar in one corner, where beer, etc, could be obtained and drunk on the premises. The Cathedral and the round tower were very interesting places, and were of some historical interest. The Cathedral had been burnt down once, only one wing being saved, and the whole place had only been rebuilt some few years before our arrival there. The round tower, which stood in the Cathedral grounds, was almost 1000 years old, and one of the best specimens of its kind left in the country. Its walls were exremely thick, and (it) was high enough to give one a wonderful view of the surrounding country. A chum of mine, named Turner, sketched the tower for me in my autograph album, and will be found attached to this narrative.
Often when I had mastered the elementary stages of horse riding, we used to ride past this old tower, and no matter where we went to, we could always see it. Often now I look back longingly to those splendid spring mornings, and think of the quiet country lanes, with their grassy banks covered in primoses and the exhilaration of a canter far out into the country, and back just in time for breakfast and drill. Often I have galloped over the Curragh, practising charges, patrols, etc,. and alas, often have I ridden with crossed stirrups, and an ever present dread of impending disaster. Unless you have tried it, you cannot realise the horrors of an hour without the use of stirrups, drawing swords, dismounting, and mounting at the halt, and the walk, and a cross country gallop with ditches and hedges to jump over.
Every Saturday morning the horses were exercised instead of the usual morning rides, and as a rule I used to take out three, riding the centre one bare backed, and managing one on either side of me as best I could. I had a pretty anxious time as a rule, as the horses did not always like each other, and would occasionally start kicking and bucking. The sensation is not a pleasant one, seated on horseback with no saddle and three horses trying to make off in different directions, and more than once I was dragged off the centre horse by one of the others suddenly darting off to the left or right. My long legs, however, saved me as a rule, and on a thin horse I could almost tie my legs into a knot.
Here at Kildare, I started to learn the mysteries of the rifle, and out on the hills at the back of the camp, learnt how to get bulls and pick out targets. Sword drill too we had daily, mounted and dismounted, and I was rapidly approaching the end of my training, and off to the wars.
Then it was that the rebellion occured, interfering with my training, and putting us all on a war footing, before we quite realised what had happened. Good Friday, Saturday and Easter Sunday had passed, the weather superb, and with nothing wanting in the way of freedom and enjoyment. On Easter Monday I had obtained permission to go out on pass at midday, and by means of some wangling, had managed to get the morning off to prepare for the afternoon. I prepared to leave just at the stroke of twelve, and was just passing the sentry, when I heard loud shouts to stand to on the square. The alarm was blown by the bugler, and the barrack gates were immediately bolted and barred. The exit being closed, I was forced to return and with the others fell in on parade. Small parties were picked out and told to stand fast, and a large party of 3rd Hussars received orders to pack up full kit at once, and move off in half an hour. All of us, of course, were quite in the dark as to what had happened, but were not kept long in ignorance. Messages had been received of a riot in Dublin, and the military were required at once. Each small party under an N.C.O was given a post to take over, some at the railway station, some at the Post Office, and others at all the roads leading to the Curragh. The Dublin party were soon ready, and were away within 45 minutes of the alarm, taking with them every available rifle in the barracks. The men detailed off for town duty had to take old D.P. (drill practice) rifles which might fire with some persuasion, and on the other hand might misfire, and to say the least of it mar the user`s personal beauty. Those who remained in camp each received a sword with instructions to keep it by them. Mounted patrols were detailed off, and parties of twenty immediately left camp to patrol the surrounding district.
The guard was doubled at the main entrance and men went round the camp day and night on patrol. On the Monday night the town picquet which was split up into parties of ten under an N.C.O. received a scowling welcome from the young bloods and it was only the knowledge of large reserves of men in camp that prevented them from becoming openly hostile. Had they known, however, that there was not a single decent arm in the place and practically no ammunition, things might have been vastly different. We got to bed that night only half undressed and I with the rest of the men in the hut were pulled out of bed at 1.30. a.m. to unload a couple of wagons of ammunition brought from the Curragh Camp to reinforce our scanty supply. Tuesday passed very quietly, but the rumours from Dublin of the serious state of affairs there made us expect something of a rough house. Wednesday night was quite an exciting one, and we quite thought we were in for a scrap. The alarm was given at 2.30 a.m. and when we had paraded on the square, were implored to keep our heads and be as quiet as possible. Every man had an arm of some kind, swords, rifle, or pistol, and after being split up into parties, departed in various directions to meet the unknown. My party took to the Curragh Road and on reaching the edge of the Curragh itself, took cover in the ditches and bushes in the vicinity to await further orders. Three small patrols went forward (to) reconnoitre, but found nothing, and at dawn we returned to camp wondering what it had been all about.
Nobody ever knew exactly why it was we had been turned out, and probably, with the exception of the C.O., it remains a mystery to this day. As the days went by we received less and less food and by Friday were living on bully and biscuits. The civilians were in a worse state than us, as no food was available from Dublin, and by Saturday the shops were practically sold out. Except those who were out on duty, nobody was allowed outside the camp, and life became very monotonous and unexciting for those of us who by force of circumstances were retained in camp. The spare horses were exercised each morning on the square, and this with stables were the only daily duties. By the following Monday the rebellion had been quelled, but we still occupied the Post Office etc. for another fortnight, and were confined to camp until just a month after the outbreak.
It was just about then that Wilfred, (younger brother), went home on his final leave before leaving for France, and I remember trying, without success, to get leave to go home and see him.
We remained at Kildare for a few weeks longer, and with the summer just coming along had a most enjoyable time. Every week a paper chase was held, and we had some glorious afternoons chasing about over the surrounding country. We were given permission to attend the Curragh races, the course being some three miles away, and it was there that I had my first glimpse of horse racing. I backed a horse for 2/6d on the advice of a chap I knew, but of course never got any return for it.
Some time in June we were ordered to move, and left Kildare to join the 5th/12th Lancers, who were stationed at Marlborough Barracks, Dublin. Marlborough Barracks was a splendidly built place and at first sight appeared more like a convent, with its high red walls and sombre red buildings. The square was a large well kept one surrounded by trees, and in the summer looked decidedly unlike a barrack square. The stables were almost palatial and infinitely better than those at Kildare. The riding school was a covered one with a gallery at the far end, and the officers quarters had the appearance of a seaside hotel, with its gardens, tennis courts, and balconies. Temporary stables and quarters for the troops were built on the far side of the barracks adjoining Phoenix Park, and with a town of Dublin`s size so near, we all looked forward to a good time. We trained very strenuously here until we had been passed as efficient for foreign service and were drilling from 5.45. a.m. until 5. in the evening.
Riding school was by far the most interesting and the most exciting of our training there, and undoubtedly the hardest work. We were taken right back to the rudiments of horsemanship and put through everything at top speed. At first we rode without spurs or arms, and had hours and hours of crossed stirrups in the riding school. Each morning we were given a different horse to ride and never knew until early morning stables, what sort of a mount we should have. Each and every one had their funny little ways, some shied at anything under the sun, some bucked, some jumped well, and some not at all, and all of them were young horses being broken in before going to France. Having successfully passed the preliminary stages, we were next taught jumping, and I had some awful mornings in the school at jumping practice. The instructor always had a long whip on these occasions, and both horses and men had usually most awful wind up. My first jump was over a four foot gate without stirrups, arms folded, and the instructor urging the horse on with his whip. At first the horse refused to go, but seeing apparently no escape, made a sudden dive for the gate and catching his fore legs on the bar, stumbled and threw me yards over his head on to the, fortunately for me, soft floor. Yells of laughter from those who had gone over before me, and looks of apprehension from those who were doomed to follow after me. The instructor decided I was too heavy for my mount, and gave me his own to try again, and not without misgivings, I tried again, and this time managed to hang on. Then after jumping, came sword drill mounted, and I found this much easier than dismounted sword drill. It was a great sensation to draw the sword with a terrific sweep and gallop past swinging sacks and try to stick them. Then we had the rifle added to our troubles and struggled with action dismount etc. Then, having satisfied the riding school instructor we donned spurs, and as it were, took to the fields, in this case Phoenix Park. We were some "crush", then riding through the main road at the trot with drawn sword. In the park we practised troop drill at first, wheeling, turning, forming column of route etc., and charging with drawn sword brick walls and trees and things. Then came squadron drill, four troops forming line wheeling etc., and at first we got into hopeless muddles and became a tangled mass of kicking horses and prevaricating troopers. Squadron drill was never a success, however, as usually the officers themselves got muddled, and when they were right, the troop leaders, usually N.C.O.`s, lost their heads with chaotic results. It was quite the usual thing for somebody to be taken home on a stretcher from the squadron drill, and a horse or two led home badly lamed.
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