General ‘Boy': The Life of Lieutenant General Sir Frederick Browning

by Richard Mead

  Boy also remained in touch with the Palace following his retirement by virtue of his appointment as an extra equerry to both the Queen and the Duke. The only occasion on which he was asked to fulfil the function was during the Duke’s visit to the Award Scheme centres and various other organizations in Devon and Cornwall in June 1961. In July 1962, however, the Queen came at last to Menabilly, accompanied by the Duke. They were on their way to join Britannia, which was moored in the Fowey River for a brief voyage along the south-west coast. On this occasion it was Boy who was the calmer of the two, making the arrangements with military precision whilst Daphne was the one in a state of nerves, confining herself to arranging the flowers. The visit went off without a hitch, though Daphne was mildly upset that the royal couple had not eaten more of her sandwiches and cakes.

  Boy gave up a number of the appointments which would have required regular visits to London, although he did remain a member of the Board of Governors of the Cutty Sark Society. At the end of 1960 he resigned as a Director of The Savoy Hotel Limited, but stayed on the boards of its sister hotels, Claridges and the Berkeley. As he was unable to attend meetings regularly, he also stood down from the chairmanship of the Airborne Forces Security Fund in 1961, to be succeeded by Gale, although he continued as a Trustee.

  He did, however, take on some more local appointments. As a distinguished local soldier, he was a natural choice to be Chairman of the Cornwall Territorial and Auxiliary Forces Association, to which he gave strong support over the coming years. He was also made a Deputy Lieutenant of Cornwall in February 1960, but at that time this was more of an honour than an obligation to perform any services. He was friendly with both Sir Edward Bolitho, who retired as Lord Lieutenant in 1962, and his successor Sir John Carew Pole,2 and it was Lady Carew Pole who was instrumental in bringing him a much more substantial appointment in October 1959. She was the Chairman of the Cornwall County Council Civil Defence and Emergency Committee, which was responsible for selecting Boy as County Group Controller of Civil Defence, a job he took very seriously.

  The Cold War reached its height in the early 1960s and the measures to be taken in the event of either nuclear or conventional attack loomed large on the agendas of both central and local government, various contingency plans being drawn up for a range of emergencies. Boy’s organization consisted of the Civil Defence Corps (CDC) of trained volunteers, together with a small number of full-time officials to recruit and train it, and a small Auxiliary Fire Service (AFS) to supplement the County Brigade. In an emergency the County Controller was expected to assume ‘strategic control’ of the both the CDC and the AFS which, together with the fulltime police and fire services were then deployed to protect the civilian population. He was responsible to the Regional Commissioner, who would direct the overall response to any emergency from his HQ.

  Cornwall was unlikely to be immune from nuclear attack. RAF St Mawgan and RNAS Culdrose were both dispersal airfields for RAF Bomber Command, while the nearby Plymouth Dockyard and naval anchorage would also have been targets. Regular CDC exercises were held to address the response to any attack, the overriding objectives being to ensure the continuation of government, to keep essential services going, to safeguard communications and to protect as much of the population as possible from fall-out. However, other civil emergencies such as floods and oil spillages also fell into the remit of the Civil Defence and Emergency Committee and needed to be trained for. This was thus a real, if part-time job for Boy and he was ideally suited for it, as his reputation carried some influence with local military commanders as well as with the civilian services. He went frequently to Truro on Civil Defence business and toured the county visiting local establishments and attending exercises.

  Whilst these new interests provided a vital distraction, he still had a great deal of unaccustomed time on his hands. During the summers he was able to indulge his passion for sailing, but he was finding it more difficult to handle Jeanne D’Arc and in the winter of 1960/61 he decided to sell her. She was replaced by a much smaller sailing boat, the 18-foot Echo, but she too proved to be something of a handful, not least because she was very fast. His last boat was Ygdrasil III, another motor launch built at Hunkin’s yard, which gave him a lot of pleasure during the summer of 1964. Boy refused to take the advice given by almost everyone that he should install diesel propulsion and instead put in two large Chrysler petrol engines. Not only were they expensive to run, but they made the boat very difficult to sell in due course. In 1962 Boy retired after eighteen years as Commodore of the Royal Fowey Yacht Club, and was made the Honorary Admiral.

  His other interest was photography and he enjoyed travelling around Cornwall taking pictures with the box camera he had brought back from the Far East, always shooting his film on transparent slides and refusing to upgrade to a 35mm camera when these became commonplace. In winter, when there was no sailing, he used to like taking the family’s West Highland terriers on long walks to the beach at Pridmouth or along the coast. As far as more sedentary pursuits were concerned, he had loved television ever since it was installed at Menabilly in 1956. Apart from westerns his main interest was anything to do with sport, whilst he was an avid viewer of ‘The Brains Trust’. He and Daphne had both invested in one of the new independent television franchises, Westward Television, which covered the South-West and Daphne even joined the board. In a rather more off-beat direction, Boy was also fascinated by Unidentified Flying Objects and was convinced that they existed, making a study of the reported sightings.

  Another welcome distraction for Boy was his grandchildren. Marie-Thérèse and Paul were growing up fast and used to spend a lot of their holidays at Menabilly, whilst the whole family gathered there for Christmas. Boy was also greatly taken with Flavia’s son Rupert, who was much younger than the others, but had impeccable manners. Paul remembered his grandfather fondly but said that he often kept himself to himself, Daphne becoming the much more dominant figure in their lives. When he wanted peace Boy retreated into his study, off the end of the Long Room at Menabilly, where he continued to pursue his longstanding hobby of boat design, his drawings strewn over the table in the middle.

  By 1962, the relationship between Daphne and Boy was back on an even keel. There can be little doubt that they loved each other deeply and visitors would see a cosy couple, who enjoyed mutual banter and continued to share a lively sense of humour. The dominant personality however, except when they were aboard one of the boats, when Boy inclined to be dictatorial, was Daphne. His reliance on her was inhibiting, whilst his health caused her both concern and frustration and she could not understand his inability to give up drinking, as his doctors insisted he should do. Nevertheless, and although she often felt the need to escape to the hut in the garden or on occasions further afield, she had become much more the dutiful wife than she had ever been.

  The Brontë biography had attracted some favourable criticism and she completed an unfinished novel by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, Castle Dor, but otherwise Daphne was going through a relatively fallow period as a novelist in the early 1960s. The problem was not only her concerns about Boy, but also her fear about the tenure of Menabilly, which made it difficult for her to develop the required level of creative concentration. The house’s owner, Dr John Rashleigh, died in 1960 just as she was about to sign a new twenty-three-year lease and it was clear that Philip Rashleigh, his heir, would want to take it back at some point. It was not until 1961 that he granted a seven-year lease and, greatly relieved, Daphne felt confident enough to start writing fiction again. The Glass-Blowers, based on the activities of her French ancestors, appeared in 1963 and The Flight of the Falcon in early 1965, following a visit by Daphne and Kits to Urbino in Italy, where the novel is set.

  There were some mixed developments on the family front. Tessa’s marriage to Peter de Zulueta was giving cause for concern, as he was turning out to be both a drinker and something of a philanderer. On the other hand, Kits produced a new girlfriend who was instantly ap
proved of by both Boy and Daphne. Olive White was a strikingly attractive former beauty queen, with a personality to match. Boy reported subsequently to Grace: ‘This weekend Kits brought down his lady friend (Miss Ireland 1961) to whom he is apparently unofficially engaged! Daughter of a Dublin plumber but none the worse for that because, like Daddy I go for the man rather than his birth … . We have found no faults in the girl up to date and one’s only reservation is the extreme youth of Kits and her i.e. 18 and 22 respectively.’3

  Boy and Olive (later to be known by her nickname ‘Hacker’) got on well from her first morning at Menabilly, when she was woken by him with a cup of tea and a cigarette. As he told Kits afterwards, ‘one should always see what they look like first thing in the morning.’ On Sundays thereafter they both used to worship, with Boy driving her in to Fowey and dropping her off at the Roman Catholic church before going on himself to the Anglican equivalent. He would then pick her up and whisk her away to the yacht club, where he was delighted to be able to show her off to admiring friends and acquaintances. Daphne and Boy both harboured doubts about either their son or his fiancée being ready for marriage, but did not stand in their way when the event was set for January 1964. Boy was not looking forward to the occasion, indeed he remarked that he would have preferred to have gone back into the trenches on the Somme. However, the family went to Dublin in force and Boy and Daphne, neither in any way a snob, got on very well with their son’s new parents-in-law. Boy was no longer drinking and found the reception something of a trial, but Daphne thoroughly enjoyed herself and they both returned to Cornwall in good spirits.

  Boy’s abstemiousness at the wedding was the result of a major shock only the previous month. Since his breakdown in 1957 he had been advised to cut out alcohol, but he had been singularly unsuccessful in doing so. In early December 1963 he was driving in his Alfa Romeo to attend a Civil Defence meeting, having fortified himself with a few whiskies in advance, when he caused an accident that left two other people injured. He had been taking various types of medication and it is likely that these did not combine well with the alcohol. Two days before Christmas, accompanied by Tessa to provide moral support, he appeared before the magistrates in Truro and was found guilty of driving under the influence of drink or drugs, fined £50 – a considerable amount at the time – and ordered to pay costs, including a doctor’s fee. Although the injured parties made a full recovery, Boy was mortified, not least because the incident and its consequences had been reported in both the local and national press. In his shame he completely overreacted, refusing to appear in public and resigning from his clubs. It was only through family loyalty that he was induced to go to Dublin for Kits’ wedding.

  This was only a temporary upset, but in September 1964 Boy’s physical condition began to give more serious cause for concern. Although there had been periods during his retirement when he had seemed relatively fit, overall he had not enjoyed robust health, with frequent bouts of lumbago and bronchitis and a tendency to catch any virus that was about. He had been admitted to the hospital in Fowey during 1961 for observation but there was no major ailment diagnosed, apart from those of which everyone was already aware. Now, however, his left leg began to cause him serious pain and it was clear that action had to be taken.

  Problems with his legs had occurred before. He had damaged one or both of them in the bobsleigh accident in 1924 and had been admitted to hospital in early 1943 with a clot on his knee after the glider crash. His first real complaint specifically about pain in his left leg, however, had come during his time in Singapore in 1946, when walking any distance had crippled him. Although continuing to trouble him on occasion the problem had been kept under control, but it now blew up. A clot was diagnosed in his left foot, which was treated by blood-thinning drugs but quickly followed by an infection. The pain was agonizing and it became clear that he was now suffering severely from ischaemia, a condition in which his arteries were no longer able to supply the required amount of blood to his foot. He was admitted to Greenwich Hospital, Plymouth, to undergo a lumbar sympathectomy, an accepted treatment for restoring circulation that requires a needle to be inserted in the side, to administer a drug to a group of nerves in the lower back which control the blood supply to the legs. Usually the procedure has a good success rate, but in Boy’s case it had no effect at all and he remained in considerable pain.

  Daphne was reluctant at first to resort to the alternative, which was to amputate the foot, and Boy returned to Menabilly where efforts were made to control the pain with drugs. He was provided with an electric wheelchair which allowed him limited freedom to move about, but there was no improvement. However, whereas Daphne had long suspected him of being something of a hypochondriac, he was now totally stoical in his acceptance of his condition. His grandson Paul went into his study on one occasion to find him rubbing his leg and almost crying out with pain, but refusing to let it get him down. At least night storage heaters had been installed at Menabilly earlier that year, which provided unaccustomed warmth through the winter, much to the occupants’ pleasure. The family came down for Christmas and it was clear to all of them that more radical action would need to be taken. Boy and Daphne were persuaded to seek a second opinion and he was admitted to the Lindo Wing of St Mary’s Hospital, Paddington shortly after the New Year. There the medical advice was forthright: his left foot needed to be amputated, otherwise gangrene would set in.

  A blood clot had to be removed first, but the operation took place ten days later on 14 January 1965. It was in itself a success, the blood flowing freely again to the rest of the leg, but Boy developed a high temperature possibly from a hospital infection, and had to be pumped full of antibiotics. Three weeks later, still very weak, he returned to Cornwall by train with Daphne. He put a brave face on his condition, writing a cheerful letter to Geordie Gordon Lennox expressing confidence in the future and leaving the visiting secretary of the Territorial Association with the impression that he had turned the corner. However, not surprisingly for one who derived a great deal of pleasure from driving and sailing, the thought of having to have an artificial limb, for which he went to Plymouth to have his first fitting at the end of February, made him once again intensely depressed.

  The next two weeks turned into a nightmare. Prior to his trip to Plymouth, Daphne had contracted jaundice and was confined to bed for days, feeling desperately ill herself and losing a stone in weight, whilst Boy, still far from fully recovered from his operation, developed a serious attack of bronchitis. Writing to Oriel Malet, Daphne expressed her fear: ‘He looks ghastly. I can’t believe that he can get right after this, and his leg was going on quite all right. Why is it that a sudden Doom descends on people in a flash?’4 Two nurses had been brought in to look after Boy, and they and Esther Rowe now found that they had another patient on their hands, although Daphne began slowly to recover. On 10 March Boy found the strength to scribble a letter to his sister:

  My dearest Grace

  Thank you so much for your letter and as usual I forgot your birthday which is nothing new!! Getting a beastly go of bronchitis on top of all the other nonsense was really the end and put me back weeks in my general recovery – one sometimes wonders whether it is all worth it at my age and it would really be more dignified to fade gradually out. Thank goodness Daphne is much better but is being very cautious this time and not risking the cold weather outdoors. Please give my love to Helen and Anthony and trust all goes well with the livestock.

  From your loving

  Tommy

  P.S It is quite amazing how tired one gets just writing!!

  As the letter suggests by this time he felt exhausted, yet was finding it difficult to sleep. The nurses noticed that his mind was starting to wander and his condition worsened as the bronchitis developed into pneumonia. Early on the morning of 14 March the night nurse woke Daphne to say that she had become seriously concerned about Boy’s condition and had sent for the doctor. Daphne dashed to his room, but when she bent down s
he was unable to hear any breathing. The nurse attempted to revive him, but it was too late. A blood clot had reached his heart.

  Chapter 31

  Postscript (1965–1989)

  Boy’s death was announced on the BBC news and produced a flood of obituaries in the Press. Almost immediately telegrams and letters began to pour in to Menabilly. The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh led the condolences from the Royal Family, whilst the great and the good were represented by Eisenhower, Mountbatten and a number of others. Messages of sympathy and moving tributes from friends and relatives, former Grenadiers, old comrades from the Airborne Forces, Palace courtiers and the representatives of the many organizations with which Boy had been associated were not unexpected, but there were also a large number of letters from people of whom Daphne had never heard – old soldiers, royal servants and others to whom Boy had meant something important and who now wished to convey their feelings.

  Daphne needed to know that he had been held in such high regard, as she was heartbroken. All the difficulties of the last few years and the strange life they had led for the two preceding decades, her dismay at his infidelities and the irritation she had felt over his depressions and frequent illnesses, were put aside as she realized what he had really meant to her. She missed their ‘routes’ and the good times they had had on their boats and she mourned not only the person, but all the wasted years. She wore only black and white for the next twelve months.