The Last Great Cavalryman

by Richard Mead

  On 16 July all the cavalry colonels met again in full session. Dick described it in his diary as ‘a devilish meeting’ and indeed he was given a very hard time, partly because no opportunity had been given to the colonels for debate, as they had been led to expect from the previous meeting. Moreover, the choice of regiments was widely felt to be unfair, particularly as the two most junior unamalgamated regiments, the 11th Hussars and the 12th Lancers, had been exempted, on the grounds not only that their recruiting figures were very good, but also that they had been the first to be mechanized and were thus more experienced in armoured warfare. The consensus was that the KDG/Bays amalgamation should go ahead but that those of the four hussar regiments should be replaced by the 9th Lancers with the 12th Lancers, and the 10th Hussars with the 11th Hussars. Both John Hare, the Secretary of State for War, and Templer addressed the meeting, the latter apologizing that the colonels had not been consulted before due to his own insistence on secrecy, and saying that, although he respected their views, he was not prepared to change the plan. Dick felt so strongly about the reaction that he asked to be relieved early of his role as colonel commandant, which would otherwise have taken place at the end of the year. He left the meeting exhausted.

  For the 12th Lancers the reprieve was a short one. In January 1959 Dick received a letter from Francis Festing, Templer’s successor as CIGS, to say that it had been decided that his regiment must be amalgamated with the 9th Lancers. There was to be no debate or appeal against what Dick described at the time as ‘a very heavy blow’.

  In general Dick kept a low profile during his retirement. He did emerge during the Suez crisis in November 1956, adopting a very public position that the whole venture was dishonourable, going up to the War Office to tell Templer so to his face. Many of his friends and others supported his stand but an address he gave on the subject at the local British Legion branch received a hostile reception which caused him to resign and at a big Army dinner at the Royal Hospital, Chelsea, his former CAO in Germany, Nevil Brownjohn, accused him of disloyalty. Dick’s own conscience on the matter was quite clear, however, and he stood by his criticism.

  Dick came far more visibly to the public’s attention in April 1959, with publication in the Twelfth Royal Lancers’ Journal of a 10-page article entitled ‘Reflections of a Chief of Staff’. Articles in regimental journals rarely arouse interest, but this one stirred considerable controversy, as it seems was intended: Dick certainly sent copies to many friends and former colleagues, also to a number of historians including Basil Liddell Hart and John Connell. The article covered the whole of Dick’s time in North Africa in 1942/3, but the passages on the pre-August 1942 period drew little interest other than from Connell, who had just published a biography of Auchinleck defending both the C-in-C and Dorman-Smith and who wrote that his interpretation of the retreat from Gazala and the First Battle of El Alamein differed radically from Dick’s much more critical assessment.

  What aroused attention was Dick’s treatment of Montgomery. Until this time the latter’s version of events, in his memoirs and his book El Alamein to the River Sangro, had gone unchallenged. It was to be another year before the first major revisionist work was published in the shape of Corelli Barnett’s The Desert Generals, written specifically to demolish what the author believed to be a false view of history. Dick’s article and its unexpected opinions therefore caused a furore. The Daily Mail in particular labelled it ‘an astonishing attack’, focusing on three elements: the planning and execution of El Alamein, the failure to prevent Rommel’s orderly withdrawal and the ‘inflated ideas’ of Eighth Army when it joined up with First Army in Tunisia. Dick’s views on the second and third of these were well known to his friends, but the first came as a surprise. The key paragraph read:

  In my opinion Monty made a big tactical mistake over the conduct of the battle. When it was clear well before D-Day that Rommel would have too much depth to his defences for one infantry attack to reach beyond the minefields, it would have been far sounder to make two bites of the cherry. In other words, 30 Corps should have had a second set-piece attack either the following night, or if it was necessary to move many guns, then the next night. This would have been a far simpler plan and less costly in infantry.5

  There is no evidence one way or the other as to whether Dick expressed these views before the battle itself and, if so, to whom. De Guingand gave an interview to the Daily Mail in which he said that Dick had given no impression of being critical at the time, indeed that he had been very flattering about Montgomery after the battle. Dick may well have voiced his concerns at GHQ Middle East, but he was under instructions from Alexander not to interfere with Montgomery’s detailed plans, so any opposition would not have got far.

  Dick also soundly criticized Montgomery’s handling of the armour, writing pointedly: ‘It is no reflection on General Montgomery to say that the wearing of a black beret, even with two badges in it, does not make one a tank expert.’ Inevitably, given that the article was primarily to be read by the regiment, there was a stout defence of Lumsden from charges that he had had cold feet during the first two days of the battle. Dick wrote: ‘The truth is that Monty was quite determined that Horrocks should replace Lumsden at the first opportunity and the latter was sacrificed during the pause at Gambut.’6

  The article drew much comment, both in the letter columns of a number of newspapers and privately to Dick. There was some hostility, but a surprising amount of support and not just from the Cavalry Club. Liddell Hart thought it well balanced and Tedder, never a friend of Montgomery, wrote: ‘It was refreshing to see some authentic light behind the façade which has been built up around Alamein.’ Francis Tuker, who had commanded 4 Indian Division in Eighth Army, went further, giving his opinion that ‘Alamein was a badly planned, badly fought battle.’ Dick Casey, formerly the Minister of State in the Middle East, was ‘glad to see that you put in a few prods to prick the bubble.’ Brooke’s response was more measured: ‘I read your article with great interest, and am delighted you wrote it. Monty was most certainly not always right, but in the majority of cases was not far out, thank heaven!’

  Chapter 29

  Finale

  At the dawn of the new decade Dick’s immediate concern was to engineer a smooth amalgamation between the 9th and 12th Lancers, an event which took place against the loss in quick succession of three former commanding officers of the latter – Cecil Fane, who had led the regiment for much of the Great War, Paul Hornby, Dick’s predecessor, and his old friend and mentor Mike Houston. On the positive side, there was no regiment with which the 12th Lancers would have preferred to amalgamate. Dick himself knew it particularly well, as it had served under his command in 2 Armoured Brigade and then again in Eighth Army. The regiment’s colonel was Christopher Peto, whom Dick had known longer than any other soldier in the Army, as a classmate at Sandhurst in 1915. The two colonels met a month after they had heard the news and speedily settled issues such as the new cap badge, other uniform distinctions and battle honours, and decisions were also taken, together with the War Office, on the choice of commanding officer and the fair disposition of other appointments. It was decided that Dick would be the first Colonel of the amalgamated regiment, in which capacity he attended the parade and church service on 12 September 1960, which began the new era.

  Dick was now in the process of shedding appointments. His two other colonelcies were long past and he stepped down as Colonel of the 9th/12th Lancers in April 1961, handing over to Gerald Grosvenor,1 a former 9th Lancer, although he continued to attend regimental functions. He had resigned his governorship of St John’s, Leatherhead some years before, but continued to take a great interest in King’s Bruton, becoming Senior Warden2 in 1966. Paddy Heazell, who in 1964 was appointed headmaster of Hazelgrove, formerly a junior house but by then a fully fledged prep school in its own right, albeit with the same governing body, said that Dick was not greatly interested in education in itself. He was much more concerned with th
e facilities of the two schools – in the case of Hazelgrove, particularly with the garden. He gave the prep school a rose garden, which he forbade the school’s gardener to touch, either pruning and spreading the manure from his own cows himself or sending Bill Norman, the longstanding gardener at Stowell Hill, to do it according to his detailed instructions.3

  He remained closely involved with horseracing, through his stewardships at Wincanton and Newbury and his membership of the Grand Military Race Committee and the National Hunt Committee. Cecil Blacker believed that it was largely due to his efforts that the Grand Military Meeting remained in the racing calendar. He recalled that Dick, instead of tending towards stuffiness and conservatism as he grew older, moved in the opposite direction, coming up with ideas which often startled the more staid members of the committee. One suggestion was that the race should attract commercial sponsorship. Ridiculed by the then establishment, many years after his death it actually happened. Blacker also wrote of his departure:

  He suddenly made up his mind (and once made up it was unshakeable) that there were far too many members of the Committee, most were too old, that he personally, as its head, was just as redundant as any of them, would hand over to me, and go. He did not go, however, without taking up his pen and writing to the majority of the Committee, most of whom were eminent and included many personal friends, telling them that they should immediately resign to make way for younger men. Some took it in good spirit, some most certainly did not, but Dick was quite unperturbed. It had to be done, in his view, so he did it. I earned a somewhat wintry smile from him by saying that the episode reminded me of Macmillan’s ‘night of the long knives’.4

  Blacker was also on the National Hunt Committee, where he said that Dick would frequently play the role of the rebellious backbencher, ‘always on the side of the little man, the underdog; always ready to defend the rights of the small trainer and the unfashionable jockey.’5 An example of this came when he proposed Harry Dufosee, a neighbouring farmer who had been instrumental in resuscitating Wincanton Racecourse after the War, as a member of the Committee. Dufosee’s candidature was rejected, entirely through snobbery in Dick’s opinion and he was furious. He threatened to resign, at the same time lobbying intensively and producing letters of support. By the time he had finished only two members were still against the proposal and Dufosee was elected.

  With fewer external activities, Dick’s relationship with Lettice was thrown into greater focus and it was not always easy. To those outside the family she seemed marvellous and she invariably shone socially. At home, however, she liked to dominate affairs, brooking no dissent from her own opinions and, if gainsaid, reacting badly. There were thus not infrequent rows between her and Dick, though in the end he always let her have her way and would never take sides against her in any disagreement with the children. ‘Your mother means everything to me,’ Dick once said to Jon by way of justification, and if she was inclined by nature and upbringing to be rather selfish, he was entirely unselfish. Not only did he believe strongly in the sanctimony of marriage,6 but whatever her behaviour he adored her. On occasion he would tell Sylvia Courtney, who was responsible in the late 1960s for the housework, to make up the bed in his dressing room, but the differences between him and Lettice had usually blown away by morning. What had been a temper in his younger days was now replaced by occasional moodiness, and he would say to Sylvia: ‘Take no notice of me. I am what I am and it will pass.’

  The McCreerys continued to have a busy social life. Their friends locally included John Harding, who rode frequently with the BVH, and Jack Slessor, whom Dick had known well commanding the RAF in the Mediterranean in 1944/45, and their respective wives. Slessor was a fellow governor at King’s Bruton and was High Sheriff of Somerset during Dick’s tenure as a Deputy Lieutenant of the county. Dick and Lettice also encouraged visitors to stay at Stowell Hill, including former 12th Lancers and their wives such as the Charringtons, Arkwrights, Horsburgh-Porters and Abrahams, and other old Army friends like the Norries, Erskines and Keightleys, and they were never short of a bed for the night themselves, wherever in the country they might happen to be. For their frequent visits to London they acquired a flat at Crammer Court in Chelsea, but with more time on their hands they were free to travel further afield, enjoying long holidays not only in the UK and Europe but also one in Morocco and another in the West Indies, staying on the way with Julian Gascoigne, now the Governor of Bermuda.

  Dick made one major trip without Lettice during October and November 1960, when Alexander invited him, John Harding and four others to undertake a tour of all the old Mediterranean battlefields, the intention being to refresh the field marshal’s memory before committing his reminiscences to a book (published two years later). They began in Athens, where Alexander had had so much trouble in the winter of 1944/45, then flew to Cairo, spending a day at El Alamein before moving on to Benghazi, Tripoli and Tunis. After a day visiting the sites of the early 1943 battles, they flew on to Malta and Sicily before arriving at Naples. From Naples they drove down to Salerno, then up to Cassino via Caserta. After that it was Anzio, Rome and through Tuscany to Florence, via Alexander’s old HQ at Lake Bolsena, then on to Bologna and Trieste before finishing an exhausting but nostalgically satisfying fortnight in Venice.

  The family was moving on, with Charles leaving Eton in 1960 and going up to New College, Oxford the following year. Bob was first to be married, to Jeanette Wright in March 1959. Following his successful career as an amateur steeplechase jockey, he decided to stay in the sport, concentrating on breeding racehorses, and in 1962 bought a property at Moreton Morrell in Warwickshire to develop as a stud. He and Jeanette had two children, Richard, in February of that year and Laura Selby, always known by her great-uncle’s name, in January 1964. Dick and Lettice became doting, and in her case rather possessive, grandparents, having the children to stay as often as they could and occasionally taking them on holiday to Cornwall to allow their parents time on their own.

  When Michael’s shop closed in 1962, Jon acquired a number of properties to let, in Spain as well as in London. After a brief spell as a wine merchant, in 1967 he began what turned out to be a 40-year career as an antiques dealer. In February 1966 he married Honoria ‘Stevie’ Nugent. Sarah went out to Cyprus in 1960 to cook for Mat Abraham, now the CO of the 9th/12th Lancers, and his wife Iona. One of the officers with whom she came into regular contact was the adjutant, Captain Hugo Meynell, and in June 1961 they were married at Sherborne Abbey, the regiment mounting a guard of honour. Their first son, Luke, was born in November 1964 and the second, Alexander, two years later.

  The rift between Michael and his parents deepened in the early 1960s. The differences arose over diametrically opposite views of the world – Michael was by now a committed communist, who regarded his parents as enemies of the working class. To Dick, on the other hand, Michael represented precisely the totalitarianism against which he had been fighting for most of his life. The two were unable to meet without having a row and Michael’s rare visits to Stowell Hill were fraught affairs, but initially he stayed in touch with the family and he came to Sarah’s 21st birthday party at the Savoy, being especially fond of his sister. On 21 November 1962, however, Dick wrote in his diary: ‘Had a terrible interview with Michael 6 – 7pm. I may never see him again.’

  By this time Michael was espousing extreme Marxist-Leninist views and a year later he led a revolt against the Communist Party of Great Britain, which toed the Soviet line, more accommodating towards the West following the Cuban Missile Crisis, and which he and his comrades accused of revisionism and of betraying the working class. The breakaway faction formed the Committee to Defeat Revisionism for Communist Unity (CDRCU), aligning itself with the Communist Party of China. Michael was its secretary, de facto leader and co-editor of its monthly organ Vanguard.

  There was minimal contact between Michael and his parents until Christmas 1964, when he arrived to stay at short notice. It was apparent that he was ve
ry ill and the diagnosis was cancer. He spent four days at Stowell Hill, and had long talks with Lettice, who became desperately worried. He came to stay again in early January and Dick went up to London to see him at the end of that month, when Michael told him that he was going to Christchurch in New Zealand, where a Doctor Fere was claiming excellent results for a new treatment for certain types of cancer, including his own. Dick immediately bought an airline ticket and arranged for him to stay for the first ten days with an old friend and former 12th Lancer from the Great War, Maurice O’Rourke, who had visited the McCreerys the previous summer. A few days later Michael travelled to Christchurch and Dick promised to join him there.

  Dick left for New Zealand on 17 February, breaking his journey in San Francisco for a day with Selby. Michael, having responded well at first to Dr Fere’s treatment, had had a serious relapse and was now in hospital, having more conventional radio- and chemotherapy. Staying himself at first with O’Rourke before moving briefly to the Christchurch Club and then to a private hotel, Dick realized by early March that Michael was not going to recover and telephoned Lettice to join him. In the meantime he spent as much time as possible with Michael, who was becoming very weak, but was determined to continue his work for the CDRCU. Dick agreed to take dictation from Michael for his articles for Vanguard, despite the fact that what he was writing was complete anathema to him, a demonstration of his deep love for his eldest son.