Yeomen of England

by Ken Tout

  On 29 and 30 September 1938, in a conference at Munich, Britain and France had meekly agreed to Hitler’s demand to be allowed to invade and occupy the Germanic Sudeten area of Czechoslovakia. The Czechoslovakians were not involved in the agreement and were powerless observers and victims of the greater nations. The armed forces of Britain were not ready for war and, essentially, the Munich Agreement allowed some measure of additional time for war preparation. With a politician’s eye for diplomatic triumphs, the prime minister, Neville Chamberlain, flew back to Britain flourishing a piece of paper signed by Adolf Hitler, and giving the impression that this was ‘peace in our time’. Many believed it and rejoiced. A considerable number, though, ranging from Sergeant George Jelley to Winston Churchill, did not. It was doubtful if Chamberlain himself was as naïve as he sounded, and in the event all the ministers of the armed forces departments immediately rushed ahead with plans to increase Britain’s naval, military and air power.

  Mr Leslie Hore-Belisha at the War Ministry disguised the first rush of conscription by describing the new conscripts as ‘the Militiamen’ – traditionally a type of service rather less than ‘regular’ and, in past times, limited to home defence. These were single men, ostensibly required to serve for only one year. In addition to their uniforms they also received a new civilian suit each. In fact the imminent outbreak of war meant that the militia was the first line of reinforcement to the regulars and the title ‘Militiamen’ therefore soon disappeared. Meanwhile, the Yeomanry armoured car squadrons (RTC) were being re-established as full regiments, each consisting of three fighting squadrons and one HQ squadron. They resumed their original titles as part of the Royal Armoured Corps (RAC), while the old Royal Tank Corps had become a separate elite tank regiment as the Royal Tank Regiment (RTR), divided into battalions.

  Reg Spittles at his wedding in traditional ‘blues’ with mail epaulets. (Spittles)

  In Lincolnshire, Fred Leary was among the first to be called up and labelled a Militiaman, although he would not remain a ‘Lincolnshire Poacher’ for very long. In Northampton, Reg Spittles would have been due to become a Militiaman but opted to join the Yeomanry Territorials before he was conscripted. Reg Spittles’ main reason for choosing the Territorials was that after serving the due period as a Militiaman ‘you would have lost your job. No employer would have kept your job open on your return. There was a thing called “unemployment” in the 20s and 30s. That’s why 650 lads became the 2nd NY during April/May 1939. Simple!’

  George Jelley was delighted to learn that he had been unexpectedly promoted to sergeant major and, taking off the three stripes on the upper sleeves and stitching on the crown above the cuffs, he reported to headquarters. ‘I was told I was SSM of C Squadron.’ George had never heard of a C Squadron and enquired where it was. The reply was, in effect, ‘It isn’t yet!’ It was yet to be formed in Brackley. George, still doing a civilian job, was to form a squadron from recruits applying to Brackley Drill Hall. Arriving at Brackley, George had another surprise:

  A lorry from Daventry duly arrived and, lo and behold, out tumbled a whole lorry load. Never had I seen so many men dismount from a lorry … My first parade state had been 1 Officer, 1 Warrant Officer (me) and 1 Sergeant. No troopers. One permanent staff (Royal Tank Corps regular) standing by to help training. One man from the Quartermaster’s store available to issue clothing. Then the lorry load of men from Daventry and local recruits from Brackley. The first real parade in May 1939, ninety-three men all in civilian clothes. Next, I was told I must have my full complement of NCOs for the Annual Camp. With all respect to the professional soldier I could imagine him throwing up his hands in despair and saying ‘Impossible! Ridiculous!’

  George was told that, except for the single sergeant already available, all his sergeants, corporals and lance corporals had to come from his mixed batch of enthusiastic newcomers, all unknown quantities even though physically good-looking material. After a quick conference with his one officer, George asked if any of the volunteers had been members of the army cadets at school. Several had been, and these immediately became sergeants and corporals. The lance corporals came from others who either looked more experienced or who stood up straighter as they formed rather ragged ranks.

  Hitler followed up the agreed occupation of part of Czechoslovakia a few months later by invading and taking over the rest of the country. Poland seemed to be the next prey for the Nazis’ programme of liebensraum, or living space for German emigrants. Britain and France agreed to protect Poland if and when such an emergency arose. Most people now expected war and many young men decided to volunteer before being conscripted. Yeomanry regiments across the country, aiming to recruit to full regimental strength, found themselves inundated and able to contemplate forming two regiments rather than one.

  In August 1939, SSM George Jelley assembled his three troops at Brackley and two troops at Daventry, for what was to be the last peacetime camp at Stockbridge, with ‘not one squadron, not one regiment, but two regiments – all volunteers!’ He went to Daventry to assemble the troops for the journey to Stockbridge and was astonished by the civic enthusiasm he found there:

  I found the market square full of people. Mostly children. On enquiring what the excitement was all about I was told that the Sqdn was going to march through the town. I asked ‘Who said so?’ No one seemed to know. And so we marched! Excuse me, did I say ‘marched’? I had never seen anything like this march. Squealing children running in between the ranks. Parents, sweethearts and wives kissing loved ones and shouting greetings to those they knew, with the men themselves totally unused to this sort of thing. Enthusiasm everywhere. Flags waving … And so the [Northants]Yeomanry went to camp in Stockbridge. Two regiments of volunteers out of one squadron a year ago. Why did they come? Well, once more someone was treading on the Lion’s tail and, like their fathers, they wanted to know and do something about it.3

  Within three weeks war had been declared. Overnight the part-time, volunteer Yeomen found themselves subjected to all the discipline, duties, skills and perils expected of any regular soldier. And George Jelley would proudly lead his men ashore on the Normandy beaches as the regimental sergeant major.

  NOTES AND REFERENCES

  1 Jelley, G., The Years Between, NYA.

  2 See Chapter 10 – NY cup comes to light.

  3 George’s document op. cit. ends with Stockbridge. Much later, as editor of the NY magazine, he encouraged and collected the memoirs of others from two world wars.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Two LINES OF DEFENCE

  (1939–1944)

  Hastening preparations for the impending clash with the German war machine, the War Office doubled the establishment of the Territorial Army. This meant that Yeomanry regiments, most of them still well below war strength, would be required to recruit not just one full-strength regiment but two. The precipitate nature of affairs ensured that, battle ready or not, they would be mobilised immediately for active service. In traditional parlance the double regiments were known as ‘the First Line’ and ‘the Second Line’. In the coming war this did not necessarily mean that the First Line would have a superior role to the Second Line or indeed that their roles would always be similar.

  On 1 September 1939 Polish troops began to shoot back as the German army defied the ultimata of the British and French governments and continued their push for further territory. On 3 September 1939 Britain and France declared war and the British dominions followed suit. Poland resisted for almost three weeks before being invaded by Soviet Russia on 17 September and, although the nation never formally surrendered, its forces withdrew to neutral Romania. Britain was left helpless in respect of its promises to Poland but, having now made a determined enemy of Hitler, needed to gain a full war footing without further delay.

  On 1 September 1939, Corporal, Acting Sergeant A.E. ‘Sandy’ Saunders reported to Kettering Drill Hall. Correction: in mid-August Corporal, Acting Sergeant A.E. Saunders had received his calling-up
papers, but on arrival at Kettering Drill Hall found himself already to be Second Lieutenant Saunders. Just as George Jelley was creating instant sergeants and corporals, officers were being commissioned urgently from the ranks. Troop Sergeant Major Tom Boardman also became a second lieutenant virtually overnight. Sandy Saunders was further surprised to be told that there was no room for officers, or indeed for many of the ORs in the Drill Hall, and was sent back to billet at his own house, to ‘a rapturous welcome’ from his wife for the returning hero. Among the ORs, B and C Squadrons shared sleeping at home duties on a rota for weeks, while finding the men something to do was equally chaotic:

  We practised Troop formations on foot across the playing fields alongside Kettering Railway Station, a chaos of small bodies of men in line abreast, line ahead, arrowhead, and so on, changing our formations by whistle and hand signals! And sometimes even joined in groups by holding lengths of string. It was all called TEWTs, tank exercises without tanks. This happy, if shambolic start to our WAR lasted until October when, in turn, the Squadrons took guard duties at RAF Wyton.1

  Such were Sandy’s impressions of the Second Line as Lieutenant Colonel Prior Palmer and his few well-trained helpers worked to achieve discipline and order. The First Line was having similar experiences, in spite of the best efforts of Lieutenant Colonel A.F.G. Renton, commanding. Several Buckinghamshire lads, including Jack Aris, had crossed the border to Brackley to join local friends in the Territorials. Now they found themselves constituted as C Squadron, 1NY. To their delight the local Drill Hall was too small and many of the rankers were billeted in the upper floors of local pubs. In Daventry a dilapidated hotel, the Peacock, offered shelter. However, C Squadron had no cook and so at the first parade an urgent appeal was made, ‘Anybody here know how to cook?’ There was a long silence. Eventually, jovial Jack Aris raised a hand and stated rather nervously, ‘I used to serve the packet sandwiches in the factory canteen’. In spite of laughter from his mates the qualification was sufficient: Jack was appointed cook corporal on the spot. He would become famous for his ‘rainbow rice’ – ordinary rice but dignified by whatever coloured ingredient could be introduced without poisoning the troops, custard powder, paprika, gentian violet or, some said, soot. C Squadron, after various TEWTs, found itself guarding railway tunnels on the main line, as the lads joked: ‘Just in case Jerry comes and pinches the tunnels.’ A more bureaucratic view was ‘danger of saboteurs’ as rumours abounded of German paratroopers descending dressed as policemen or nuns.

  Meanwhile on 12 December 1939 the Northants squadrons found themselves reinforced by a considerable draft of Lincolnshire Militiamen, like Percy Epton and Fred Leary. The merger of original Territorials and other reinforcements had begun and would continue unabated during the war. Neither Percy nor Fred had ever left Lincolnshire before in their lives, but now the poachers, fishermen and farmers would merge with the shoemakers and brewers to form a fertile broth of comradeship and energy. What has become known as the ‘phoney war’ of inactivity had bogged down the battle lines between France and Germany but there would eventually be need for reinforcements, both there and in other battle zones not yet initiated. The Yeomanry regiments were being given their roles for future developments, although few soldiers as yet anticipated the terrible catastrophe which would occur in the spring, an event remembered in Britain simply as ‘Dunkirk’. For Fred Leary it was a cultural shock, being sent to a luxurious country estate, Wooton Hall, but faced with the most basic conditions:

  A corporal counted out eight lads to each room – no beds, just bare boards and two blankets. We were forbidden to use the bathrooms which were for officers only. We had a contraption in the park, a shed without a front, open to elements and only cold water. No real army vehicles. A collection of second-hand cars sprayed with camouflage paint. A black van with Air France written on it. A small Bedford bus. Each morning we went down to an improvised parade ground where the drill sergeant shouted insults at us. But Corporal [later Sergeant Reg] King was a great help to us rookies. He came in the evening and would sit on our beds and talk like a father on how to make the best of army life.2

  The two lines of Northants learned that they would be similarly equipped with light tanks and armoured cars and would operate together with another Yeomanry regiment from Gloucestershire. This was not a common experience for Yeomanry in general, the two lines twinned in Home Defence and then serving on into Normandy. Most of the counties who succeeded in forming two lines found that they were to split, both in terms of armament and location. One line of the Royal Gloucester Hussars would, at first, be brigaded with the two Northants regiments whilst the other RGH line would have a different role. Similarly, the 1st and 2nd Derbyshire Yeomanry would have separate destinies in different divisions. Both the 1st and 2nd Fife and Forfar and the 1st and 2nd Lothian Border would have separate paths and eventually considerably different armament and battle purposes.3

  A number of Yeomanry regiments, like the Leicesters, were now armed as field artillery. The two Leicester lines would be known as 153rd and 154th Field Regiments, Royal Artillery, maintaining their traditional designation within brackets, but would have widely varying travels with their guns. Some regiments, such as the Wiltshires, Warwickshires and Cheshires, were delighted to learn that they would be retaining their cherished horses, but the good news was tempered by an early despatch of those units to places like Palestine, Egypt, Persia and Syria.

  To begin with, the larger picture meant little to the newly mobilised young soldiers. Among the most important considerations were the smartness of the uniform for walking out with girls and the sanctity of the regimental badge. As a Territorial, Reg Spittles brought with him the normal service dress of a full-length khaki tunic with brass buttons and a beret, as well as a smart blue walking-out uniform, with silver chain metal epaulets (in which he would proudly get married) and a swagger stick to carry. Around him he saw new recruits hurriedly issued with boiler suits for the time being. It was two months before full uniform and military underwear were issued, not that Reg enjoyed the change to the latter, the new underpants and vests being ‘thick and very tickly’. The regimental badge was the galloping ‘White Horse of Hanover’ within a scroll bearing the regiment’s name. Unfortunately the number of badges in stock was sufficient for only one regiment. The colonels conferred and, after tossing a coin, 2NY took possession of the cap badge. The 1NY had to make do with the simple silver horse, normally the collar dog, on a blue cloth patch. Later a new colonel changed 2NY headdress to a side cap, but later still they reverted to the Royal Armoured Corps black beret.

  The cartoon refers to the issue of the one-piece Simplex tank suit, which the sergeant major could not pronounce. (Tout, NYA)

  Confusion became nationwide when, in the spring of 1940, the massed German armour, profiting from new tactics and using close air support, broke through the Allied armies, causing the eventual surrender of the French Army and the evacuation of the British, with some Allied soldiers, from Dunkirk. More than one Yeomanry fought well in an impossible situation: 1st Lothian and Border Yeomanry carried out a 60-mile fighting retreat over six days and survived to fight again; the Worcesters with their guns defended the approaches to Dunkirk itself until ordered to detach and evacuate.

  Virtually within a month the picture had changed from dormant armies facing each other across frontiers well away from Britain to an enemy standing at Calais and looking across the sea to the iconic white cliffs. The same enemy was assembling landing craft and massing aircraft for an invasion of England, unthinkable only a few weeks previously. And the evacuated army was completely disorganised for the time being. Major Bill Close MC and bar related how the remnants of his regiment, 3RTR, evacuated from Calais and were sent to patrol the south coast of England with ‘no tanks, very few vehicles and just Boyes rifles, an extremely difficult weapon, in fact quite useless’.4

  Suddenly, partially trained and equipped troops like the NY were needed as emergency plugs for
a hurried defence line along the threatened coast. Reg Spittles’ squadron boasted two Rolls-Royce armoured cars, one old light Vickers tank and half a dozen trucks. Reg and Freddy Wilson manned a requisitioned 5-ton furniture lorry which carried all the quartermaster supplies. A selection of reasonably trained soldiers of 1 and 2NY and RGH were formed into the Yeomanry Armoured Detachment (YAD), as an urgent front-line group of one regiment strength. However, the strategist Kenneth Macksey, in his study of what would have happened if the enemy had landed in July 1940, places the two Northants regiments and the Gloucesters as one out of only two armoured brigades available for immediate counterattack against the incoming enemy. And Reg’s old Vickers tank at a 7-ton weight would have been facing enemy armour of 20 tons or more and with much bigger guns.5