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Aside from a rush of cold air on 1st January when the tradition of opening front and back doors to usher
in the new year and let out the old set some of the patients momentarily shivering in their beds, the advent of a new year
appears to have had little effect on the routine at Hickwells. Life went on much
as usual.
Except of course, as the inhabitants of Chailey entered their third year at war, life in Britain was far from what would have been considered normality before August 1914. British
losses to date already exceeded 500,000 men with over 200,000 of these either killed or missing in action. Furthermore, according to the Official History, nearly 150,000 soldiers languished in British hospitals
as a result of sickness or wounds, whilst a further 25,000 men were confined to hospitals in France. With many of the village men already serving at the
front and constant convoys of wounded men streaming into Brighton and then fanning out into the surrounding towns and villages,
‘normal’ routine had been turned upside down. Reports in the local
papers only heightened the anxiety of the relatives left at home.
Private Bristow, a native of Chailey now serving with the 6th Australian Infantry Force, and nursing a shell
wound to his head received in The Dardanelles, wrote home to his mother from his hospital bed in Malta. His letter was published in The East Sussex News. “I
am one of the lucky ones to get away alive as there was a terrible bombardment of the Turks.” He wrote. “For nearly three hours I was buried and for two hours under the earth I was unconscious. I never want to go through such an experience again. Death
is facing you the whole time. You could never imagine what it is like to have
several feet of earth over you and at the same time to be struggling for breath. It
was the biggest bombardment we had ever seen or heard, and ever want to see again. I
am undergoing an operation in the morning but you must cheer up for I will soon be well again.
We are certainly treated very well here.”
Typically, the first article about Hickwells that appeared in the local papers was news of another concert. Sponsored by the wealthy Mrs Bessemer of Burchetts, Chailey, “the patients and staff of Hickwells Relief Hospital, as well as
those of East Chiltington VAD Hospital were invited to a concert, and motor cars and carriages brought the
wounded ‘Tommies’ to the ‘scene of action’. The Parish Room is a large one and half was reserved for
patients, nurses and orderlies, the other half being filled with the relations of the Chailey men who are serving King and
Country.” At the close of the evening, after a stirring rendition of the
National Anthem, Private John Allan, still in hospital after being wounded on the opening day of the battle of Loos three
and a half months earlier, called for three cheers for Mrs Bessemer and the three ladies who had given them such an enjoyable
afternoon.
The arrival of Private Baddock at Hickwells some time in early January 1916, added a further talent to the hospital
troupe that had been lacking up until now – that of cartoonist. Jock Allan
would shortly be leaving, other favourites like Bombardier Ryan had already departed, but what Baddock liked to do was to
draw. It didn’t matter that his sketches were amateurish or that the ideas
had been ‘borrowed’ from some of the humourists who regularly appeared in Punch and other popular publications
of the day. Before long he was filling up Nurse Oliver’s book with whatever
took his fancy at the time.
His first entry followed a well-trodden path: name, regiment, date and place of wound and cap badge illustration. Lance Corporal Burnage followed suit on the same page, adding that he had also been
wounded at Loos. Next to his drawing of the Royal Sussex Regiment he wrote the
words, The Iron Regiment and underneath, for good measure, added But are not Downhearted. Both men outlined their badges in pencil
and finished them off with a gold watercolour.
Baddock thumbed a few pages further on. Here were three verses from Mabel
Wilson, one of Nurse Oliver’s friends and here a couple of pages further on was a painting of the church at Newick by
Sgt Reeve of the KOSB. Later, Baddock too, would try his hand, not entirely successfully,
at a watercolour. It was humour though, and political commentary that Baddock
enjoyed, so he took up a fountain pen and set to work.
What he drew was a passable rendition of the Kaiser dressed as a blacksmith, being crushed between his anvil and weight
which had just fallen onto his head from a great height. On the anvil was written
the word ‘starvation’ and on the weight, the words, ‘The Allies’.
The blacksmith’s hammer (with the word ‘piracy’ written on it) and the horseshoe he had been making
(with the word ‘militarism ‘ on it) had both been dropped as the weight had fallen and now there was the image
of the Kaiser, his head crushed between the weight and the anvil, seeing stars.
Upon each of the stars was written an example of German atrociousness: ‘Baby Murderers’, ‘Belgium’,
‘Rheims’ and so on, whilst in the foreground a young man bearing the word ‘Neutrals’ stood laughing
at the scene in front of him. Just in case the cartoonist’s true feelings
about his subject matter were not evident, next to the young man he drew an open box, labelled ‘poison gas, incendiary
bombs, liquid fire etc for der Allies’ whilst on the wall hung a simple message in a frame: ‘Gott Strafe England’. Baddock entitled his cartoon, ‘Who put the kybosh on the Kaiser’ and signed
it with his name and regiment.
There were also concerns of a more domestic nature. Responding to a recent
order which forbade the use of headlights on vehicles travelling at night, a correspondent to The East Sussex News warned,
“… the new order has greatly increased the danger on the country roads.
The average pedestrian in the country, walks in the road, especially at night time and we, for I am one of the average,
as a rule walk on the wrong side of the road. The danger is therefore great and
I am writing to you, as your valuable paper is very widely read in the country districts, so that perhaps we country folk
may be warned to keep to the path at night time.” It was a valid warning
for on the following page was reported news of an accident two days earlier.
“MOTOR SMASH AT CHAILEY - ESCAPE OF WOUNDED SOLDIERS
What might have proved an extremely serious accident occurred close to the Chailey Parish Room on Wednesday evening,
about 6.30pm, when two motor cars crashed into each other. Owing, probably, to the
new lighting regulations, the drivers could not see each other till too late. One
car, containing wounded soldiers, was coming from the Lewes direction, and the other was a baker’s car. The bonnets of both met and both cars were smashed, broken glass flying around. One man was thrown into the road, but had a marvellous escape, as did all the occupants. No bones were broken, but, naturally, there were cuts and bruises, and all had a bad shaking. It was altogether an extraordinary escape for everyone concerned.”
Private Baddock wasn’t in the car but Edward Burnage was; so too was Charles Sabourin, wounded at Mons and now wearing an artificial leg. Piecing together
accounts from those at the scene, Baddock, never one to miss an opportunity for a comic sketch, drew a further cartoon in
Nurse Oliver’s book and added some narrative himself:
"Motors collide at Chailey. A party of wounded soldiers proceeding from
a concert in a motor car, collided with a Bakers car belonging to Richards [of] Barcombe.
The men were cut and bruised and one man broke his artificial leg. - Sussex News."
January 1916 also saw the death of Herbert Reed at his parents’ house in Bineham.
Herbert had not enjoyed good health for ten years or more. Photos in Nurse
Oliver’s book taken three years earlier showed him standing smartly before the camera and sitting in a field of daisies
with his niece and nephew but when war was declared and the call for volunteers went out, Herbert was simply too sick. Now the cold snap had claimed him and Nurse Oliver and Francis Blencowe were amongst
the mourners at The Parish Church. Later Edith would take a picture of his final
resting place: Herbert Norman Reed, aged 36 years old. ‘Thy Will Be Done’.
On January 19th, another concert was held at The Parish Rooms, this time in aid of the St Dunstans Home
for Blinded Soldiers, established the previous year in Regents’ Park, London. Gunner Davies
and Private McCann, both from Hickwells, gave deserved encores and Private Baddock, “… in spite of a badly wounded
head, gave some extremely clever ‘lightning sketches’ on the blackboard, illustrating some topics of the day,
as for instance, ‘Lord Derby’s Christmas box for the Kaiser’, ‘Bottled up in the Kiel Canal’,
‘A captured British General’ (Omnibus) &c.”
On the Western Front meanwhile, as the Generals prepared plans for the next decisive battle: a combined Franco-British
offensive on a sixty mile front across The River Somme – more soldier patients for Sussex 54/VAD were waiting in the wings. Private Walter Robertson
of the 2nd Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders and Private Henry Burn of the 2nd Worcesters were wounded
within days of each other at Cambrin, a straggling industrial village about eight kilometres south east of Bethune and an
area perpetually mined and counter mined by the German and Allied troops facing each other.
“Mining officers still unable to say whether Germans are under our lines” wrote the Argyll and Sutherland
Highlanders’ diarist in his entry for 22nd January. “…
a relief seems to have taken place in the German line, trumpets being blown and much shouting across, this seems to indicate
Saxons.”
There is no record of casualties for this date or indeed for the month in the battalion war diary but Walter Robertson
was wounded on this day and would later add his entry to Nurse Oliver’s album:
Four days later, Henry Burn was wounded too. Burn was born in Ewell, Surrey and was 19 when he enlisted
at Epsom in June 1915. He was single and apprenticed as a plumber to F J Godfrey
of Balham. After two postings to the 5th and then 2nd Battalions
of the Worcestershire Regiment, he had disembarked in France in October 1915, just four and a half months after donning a
khaki uniform for the first time. No sooner had he arrived than he was struck
down with tonsillitis and sent to the 4th General Hospital at Rouen, rejoining the battalion in mid November. On 24th January the battalion moved from its position at South Annequin,
just south of Cambrin to relieve the 2nd Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders in what the battalion diarist described
as ‘good’ trenches and two days later Burn was wounded. The diarist
records, “our trenches were shelled with shrapnel and a few 4.2s landed beyond our reserve trenches. Two men were wounded by enemy’s rifle grenades. We put
out several wire bales and constructed some loop holes and knocked out an enemy’s snipers post… This company was
moved into the second lines about midnight. The night passed fairly quietly. Our artillery fired during
the night.”
Burn’s medical record sheet reports a gun shot wound and compound fracture of the right metatarsal, a serious
injury sufficient to render him unfit for any further action. His route back
to England now followed a predictable pattern.
To the Casualty Clearing Station on the 27th followed by admission to the 2nd Canadian General
Hospital at Rouen on the 28th. On the 6th February he arrived
in England and on the 7th, The Sussex Daily News was reporting another
convoy of 180 wounded men (100 of these on stretchers), arriving at No 2 Eastern General Hospital at Dyke Road. “Many of the men had come straight from the
trenches with the mud of Flanders still caked to their boots” wrote the reporter. “They crossed the Channel to Dover and travelled
to Brighton in an admirably appointed Great Eastern Ambulance Train which drew up at the
main arrival platform at the Central Station at half past ten.”
Unlike some of his predecessors,
Burn would not spend long at Hickwells. Nevertheless he still had time for Nurse
Oliver and her book.
On February 24th Henry Burn was posted back to The Worcestershire Regimental Depot. His stay at Chailey had lasted less than a fortnight and in time he would return to France.
By now, a little over five months since Sussex
/54 VAD had been mobilised, Hickwells was running smoothly. The nurses, many
of whom must have been shocked at first at some of the wounds they were seeing, had now fallen into a well practised routine,
and in their Commandant, Margaret Cotesworth, they had an indefatigable leader. Not
only did she ensure that the day to day operation of Hickwells ran smoothly, she was also involved in local fundraising activity
for her own hospital and other establishments such as St Dunstans. Wherever there
was a committee you could be sure that Miss Cotesworth would be there and still she never forgot to thank those who supported
her efforts or to spur them on to greater endeavours. Every month she would submit
a small piece to The East Sussex News, acknowledging the generosity of her fellow parishioners in helping to support Hickwells. To Miss Hughes, thanks for some eggs, to Mrs Durrant for cigarettes, cake and a Christmas
cake. In rural Chailey, pheasant, rabbit and vegetables might have been plentiful
but Miss Cotesworth still found time to acknowledge every gift. There were gifts
from her own family, from Francis Blencowe’s brother Robert and from Miss Sandford, one of the nurses, a bath chair.
On March 1st, Margaret Cotesworth attended the Sussex Branch annual general meeting of the British Red Cross
Society and later reported back that there were now six VAD hospitals open in the region and ten mobilised detachments working
in them. Between them they provided 166 beds and had nursed 1030 patients. It was a remarkable feat but there were constant reminders of how close to them the
war actually was.
On March 10th, The Ancient Order of Foresters meeting at Chailey reported that Brother George Trayton Washer
of the 7th East Surreys had been killed in action in France on October 13th.
Although there had been no major offensive since Loos, war’s detritus in the form of crippled ex-servicemen continued
to make its presence felt. Private George Parsons from nearby East Grinstead and late of the 7th City of London Regiment had held the pre-war walking record from London to Brighton. Now he was penning doggerel in the East Sussex News. Under the title, “A Tale of A Loos Leg” he described in 24 verses, what
the battle had meant to him, ending up wistfully with a typical Tommy’s wry humour with: “I came to hours later
/ And much to my regret / I found my leg was missing / And it hasn’t been found yet.”
Parsons would never get the chance to break his own London
to Brighton walking record but for thousands of recent amputees like him, taking part in
extra curricular activities were the least of their problems. Now that they were
no longer fit for the army they had to fit back into useful roles in society. It
was a challenge which Chailey, with its experience of helping crippled children, felt ready to meet. On 14th March 1916, The Mid Sussex Times
outlined a new initiative:
“EDUCATIVE CONVALESCENCE FOR WOUNDED MILITARY MEN
Among the war problems which are becoming increasingly pertinent, is that of the industrial position of the wounded
soldier after the war. As it is obvious that a solution cannot be left until
the fighting is over, an experiment in educative convalescence for our gallant, but maimed, lads has been originated at the
Heritage Craft Schools for Crippled Children at Chailey, which are carried on in connection with The Guild of Brave Poor Things. Here are situated the Princess Louise Military Wards for wounded men, and the effort
on behalf of their inmates has proved to have an enormous value. It has brought
out the unique opportunity of testing the men in the use of new limbs and unaccustomed artificial apparatus in the workshops
side by side with crippled boys similarly afflicted. The suggestiveness of the
Scheme bears the hall mark of genius as well as novelty, but unquestionably the men learn much, unconsciously, from the attitude
of the boys.”
Around this time, Margaret Cotesworth also received a letter from the blind chairman of St Dunstans, Sir Arthur Pearson.
“Dear Madam” he wrote, “it is very good of you to take such a practical interest in what is being done here
for the brave fellows who have lost their sight at the Front, and I hope you will accept sincere thanks yourself, and be able
to convey to all who helped you to make the concert and whist drive such a success, an expression of our appreciation of their
kindly efforts.” Seasoned publicist that she was, Margaret made sure that she carried out Sir Arthur’s wishes
by having the letter published in the East Sussex News on 7th April.
Frances Blencowe, assisted by Mrs Bessemer of Burchetts Estate, was also turning her attention to matters other than
the relief hospital at Hickwells. The hospital, reported the Sussex Daily News,
was ‘flourishing’ and usually full up. Local schools contributed
to a weekly egg collection and just that week, over 80 new laid eggs had been presented to the staff and patients. Now though, said Miss Blencowe, in separate addresses at The Reading Room, North Common and The Parish
Rooms, South Chailey, it was time for the women to do their bit. Eighteen local farms needed women workers and if they did not come forward, the price of foodstuffs, already
high, would increase. Farmers, she explained, would pay women the same rate as
men or three and a half pence per hour if that was preferred but everybody had a role to play.
Those that could not work on the land, “could help and look after the homes of those who could. Young girls who had just left school could work in the gardens, in fact nobody ought to be satisfied unless
they were doing something.” At the end of the meetings, cards were handed
around to all present so that they could write down what they could and were willing to do.
Margaret Cotesworth’s father was also concerned about matters on the land.
Two of his staff members had been called up for military service and he was not happy, arguing that their peace-time
occupations were essential. At the subsequent sitting of the County Appeal Tribunal
at Lewes, the Military appealed in the case of F W Shepherd, head gardener in the employ of Mr W G Cotesworth of Roeheath
who was granted conditional exemption from military service by the Chailey Rural District Tribunal while remaining in his
present occupation. William Cotesworth attended in support of the decision of
the local Tribunal but it was a lost cause. The Tribunal granted the appeal,
but allowed Shepherd exemption for six weeks. Soon Shepherd would be swapping his gardener’s overalls for a khaki uniform,
serving as a gunner with The Royal Garrison Artillery from October 1916 until the end of the war.
The sick and the wounded kept coming. Frederick Harding of the 4th
Middlesex had survived the battle of Loos and even gained promotion. Going into
the battle on September 25th as a paid lance-corporal, he had been promoted to full corporal two days later. It was the highest rank he had achieved since joining up in 1900 but it would be short-lived. Less than a month later he had lost his stripe and the same day was posted to the
regimental depot in England. With the original members
of the 4th Middlesex severely thinned in the fourteen months since war had been declared, men with Harding’s
history of service, albeit chequered, were a rare commodity. He had remained
in England until January 1916, returning to his old battalion in France in January 1916 as acting corporal with B Company.
Almost as soon as he was back in the trenches, Harding was up to his old tricks.
His weary commanding officer added three new entries on his military conduct sheet:
“In the Field, 31st March 1916: 1) Whilst on active service, falling out without permission on the line of march. 2) Neglect of duty whilst in charge of a fatigue party. 3) Absence.”
Three days later, unrepentant, he committed a further offence: absent from his billet from 8:30pm on the 2nd April till 6am the following
morning. Harding was deprived of his acting rank for the first three offences
and lost a week’s pay for his unscheduled night out
On April 14th the battalion relieved the 9th King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry in trenches
near Meault and Fricourt. After the cloying Flanders’ mud and the constant endeavours of the troops holding the line in piling up sandbags to prevent the sides of
the trenches from toppling in upon them, the chalky terrain of the Somme was in marked contrast
but nevertheless not without its own unpleasantries as the Middlesex diarist noted:
“ The nature of the soil lends itself to mining enterprises which fact is duly realised by both sides…
In our sector [of] the line, rifle grenades are the chief arrivals and the cause of 80% of our casualties. Our casualties were 1 killed and 4 wounded the first night owing to this weapon.”
The following day there were two more casualties including a man killed. Harding
was the man wounded, injured not by a rifle grenade or trench mortar but by a bullet in his right leg. It was enough; he was on his way back to England and this time he wouldn’t be returning. There would however, still
be time for further scrapes with the authorities before he was finally discharged in January 1918 as no longer physically
fit for war service, but before then, there was also time to leave a typically mischievous entry in Nurse Oliver’s album:
God made little bees
And little bees made Honey.
The patients do the work
And the Sisters get the money.
6723 Pte F Harding
4 Batt Middx Regt.
The nurses were used to the banter; it was all in a day’s work, but for Margaret Cotesworth there were other
more pressing matters that were concerning her. For some while now, Hickwells
had been stretched to full capacity. Red Cross Headquarters had already asked
if it were possible to enlarge the accommodation at the hospital but she had had to reply that this was quite impossible as
it was not hers to enlarge. The owner, Joseph Wright, had been entirely understanding
and supportive of the work that Sussex/54 was undertaking and although he had not demanded the property back, Margaret was
acutely aware that Hickwells had been lent for a period of one year – and that was fifteen months ago.
In a small community like Chailey,
news of Sussex/54’s plight travelled quickly and met with an almost immediate response.
Mrs Harcourt Rose, tenant of nearby Beechland House, was aware of the good work that the VADs were doing and had supported
their efforts from the sidelines, attending concerts and recitals and donating the occasional pheasant and other trifles. Now, in their time of need, she would make Sussex/54 a far greater gift. She would lend them her house.
Travelling north west along Cinder Hill, past Hickwells, the tree-lined road bends gently uphill to the right, becoming
Chailey lane. About a mile south east of this junction lies Newick Park; a mile to the north, the village of Newick itself. In between, much as it was in 1915, the land is sparsely populated; a series of farms and isolated homesteads
dotting the picturesque countryside. Today, the properties are independently
and privately owned but in 1915, the whole area, comprising around 475 acres and taking in the nearby farms of Tutts, Ridgeland
and Ketches, formed Beechland Estate. At its heart was Beechland House, a mansion
just fifteen minutes’ walk away from Hickwells and with enough space to accommodate 40 wounded soldiers. Mrs Harcourt Rose would retain just a tiny portion of the house for her own use, the remainder of it would
be placed at the disposal of Miss Margaret Cotesworth and her nurses.
The earliest sections of Beechland House date from Tudor times but by 1916 the house had been much improved and extended. William Henry Blaauw whose descendants had settled in England almost a century earlier, had bought the Beechland estate in 1835 and immediately set to work extending
and improving the house. A new south wing was added and the Jacobean stone archway
was relocated from the side of the house to form a new grand entrance on the eastern approach.
A new driveway, with a turning circle for coaches was constructed and a few years later the house was further extended
with the addition of a third floor and much enlarged cellars. To complement the
impressive new staircase which rose from the centre of the building, oak panelling was installed throughout the house and
stained glass windows with the Blaauw family crest were also added.
The offer of ‘Beechlands’, and for an indeterminate period of time, must have seemed like a godsend to
Sussex/54 VAD who lost no time in preparing for their move. Everything that could
be moved and was still needed was carefully packed into boxes and crates and re-located the short distance to Beechlands. Items surplus to requirements were disposed of at a jumble sale held at Hickwells
which raised £10 for The British Red Cross Fund. By the end of the month, patients
and nurses had successfully relocated and were settling in. It came not a moment
too soon. Across the Channel, the Allied forces were preparing for what they
hoped would be a decisive strike against the German armies facing them. That
strike on July 1st, and the subsequent battles that would drag on until November, would ensure that VAD hospitals and their
staffs the length and breadth of Britain would
be kept fully occupied.
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