Mud, Blood and Poppycock: Britain and the Great War (Cassel Military)

by Gordon Corrigan

  Sentences of death were carried out by firing squad. The firing squad was commanded by an officer and normally consisted of twelve men armed with rifles. Occasionally the firing squad was drawn from the prisoner’s own regiment, but this was unusual. The firing squad was paraded and then ordered to load. The men then grounded arms, turned about and marched ten or so paces away from their weapons. While there was nothing in the rules to enforce it, it seems to have been usual for the officer of the firing squad then to unload one or more of the rifles; the idea was presumably that any member of the firing squad could, in later years, say that his was the rifle that was empty. In some cases the officer even mixed up the rifles, which, by causing soldiers to fire rifles that were not zeroed to them, was actually more likely to result in a botched shooting. The men were then turned about, marched back onto their rifles and made to pick them up. The condemned man was brought out and tied either to a chair or to a post, blindfolded, and had a square of paper pinned to his heart. The squad was then ordered to aim and fire. It was the job of the officer commanding the firing squad to administer the coup de grâce with his pistol if the man was not killed outright by the firing squad. Executions were usually carried out at dawn, not for any legal reason but because it was a quiet time – casual bystanders were not welcome.

  Two cases that arouse controversy even today are those of Sub Lieutenant Dyett of the Royal Navy, and Lance Sergeant (equivalent to acting sergeant) Stones of the 19th Battalion the Durham Light Infantry. Even after eighty-five years relatives of both these men, supported by various interest groups, regularly raise their cases in the press, usually in the lead-up to Remembrance Sunday.

  Edwin Leopold Arthur Dyett was the son of a Merchant Navy captain, and after five years as an apprentice in the Merchant Navy he volunteered for the Royal Navy in June 1915, four months before his twentieth birthday. By education and background he was officer material, and after training was commissioned as a sub lieutenant. He had hoped to serve at sea, but the navy had all the sea officers it needed at this time, and Dyett was posted to the 63rd Royal Naval Division. He went to France with the division in May 1916, in the Nelson Battalion of 189 Brigade, and took part in the training for the Somme offensive, which was to begin in July 1916. The Royal Naval Division’s first taste of action since leaving Gallipoli was on 13 November 1916, towards the end of the Somme battles, when the division was ordered to attack along the northern bank of the River Ancre towards the village of Beaucourt. The division was to attack with two brigades up and one in support, with 189 Brigade on the right next to the river. The Hood and Hawke Battalions of 189 Brigade were to lead, with the Drake and Nelson Battalions following up. Zero hour was first light, or about 0700 hours British Double Summer Time.

  It was normal in this war for each battalion to nominate a small number of officers and men to be ‘left out of battle’, or LOB, who did not take part in the attack but were available to reinforce if necessary, or to act as a cadre upon which the battalion could be reformed if mass casualties occurred. The LOB party normally consisted of the battalion second-in-command, all company seconds-in-command, one platoon commander from each company and about ten per cent of the other ranks. On 13 November 1916 Dyett was one of those nominated to remain behind. It is alleged today that the inclusion of Dyett in the group not taking part indicated that the commanding officer knew he was not up to the rigours of war. In fact junior officers and soldiers joined the LOB group strictly in rotation. To leave the same man behind more than once was not only insulting to him, but would have caused resentment amongst others who had to take part.

  By about noon the attack had achieved much but had become bogged down, and the Nelson Battalion had suffered heavy casualties. Dyett and another officer, Sub Lieutenant Truscott, were ordered forward to rejoin. The two officers were taken by car from the divisional headquarters to the brigade tactical headquarters, and were eventually told to make their way up to the Nelson Battalion on foot. It was getting dark, there was fog, the ground was badly churned up and there were occasional German artillery shells falling around. The two men parted company. Although all he had to do was follow the river bank, Dyett floundered about and then found another sub lieutenant, who was organising the move of stragglers up to the front line. This officer, Sub Lieutenant Fernie, told Dyett to join the column, and to remain at the rear to ensure that no one fell out. Dyett declined to play, saying that he was returning to brigade headquarters for further orders. This was an odd way to behave. Even if, as alleged later, the sub lieutenant organising the move to the front was junior to Dyett and could not therefore give him a lawful command, the fact is that Dyett had been told to rejoin his battalion and here was a way for him to do so. Dyett eventually took refuge in a dugout, and was subsequently reported by Fernie as having refused to go up to the front and to have walked in the opposite direction. Dyett was eventually found and arrested in the battalion billeting area in the village of Englebelmer, three and a half miles behind the lines, two days later on 15 November. He was charged with desertion under Section 12 of the Army Act, in that he absented himself from his battalion, and, as an alternative charge, with conduct to the prejudice of good order and military discipline in that he did not go up to the front line when ordered to do so. Alternative charges were common in military trials, and if the more serious charge was not proven then the lesser alternative could be considered.

  Dyett was brought before a General Court Martial at Le Champ Neuf on 26 December 1916.16 The president of the court was Brigadier General S. F. Metcalfe of the Royal Artillery, and the members were Major (Temporary Lieutenant Colonel) C. J. Martin, commanding 2nd Battalion the Highland Light Infantry, Major F. R. Day and Major H. P. M. Bernay-Fickling of the 8th Battalion the Norfolk Regiment, Major L. W. Miller of the Royal Marines and Captain (Acting Lieutenant Colonel) J. S. Collings-Wells, commanding 4th Battalion the Bedfordshire Regiment. The fifth member should have been a Captain (Temporary Major) B. A. Winter of the 23rd Battalion Royal Fusiliers, but when it was found that he had not held a commission for the requisite time he was replaced by Collings-Wells. All were combatant officers with considerable experience of life in the trenches. Captain T. S. Griffith-Jones, 10th Battalion South Wales Borderers, who was a qualified barrister, sat as judge advocate; the prosecutor was Sub Lieutenant H. S. Strickland of the Nelson Battalion (presumably the adjutant, as was normal), and Dyett was defended by Sub Lieutenant C. S. Trevanion of the Hawke Battalion, a qualified solicitor.

  Dyett pleaded not guilty – a not guilty plea was, of course, mandatory where the death penalty was possible. In evidence the facts adduced by the prosecution were not disputed, but the defending officer maintained that Dyett had merely got lost, not absented himself. In cross-examination the Commanding Officer of the Nelson Battalion, the aptly named Lieutenant Commander Nelson, said that Dyett was a very poor officer, whose authority in command of men was not good. He explained that the accused had asked for a transfer to the sea service, and had ‘told me that he was of a very nervous temperament and that he was not fitted for the Front Line’. Nelson said that he had felt some apprehension in sending Dyett forward that day, but ‘I had to send two officers and these were the only ones.’ Sub Lieutenant Truscott told the court that on arrival at brigade headquarters, between Mesnil and Hamel, he and Dyett were ordered by the brigade commander to join their battalion on the ‘green line’ in a trench on the Beaucourt side of Station Road. On arrival at Beaucourt the two met Lieutenant Herring, of another battalion, with a large number of men, presumably stragglers. Truscott said that he found twenty-five men of the Nelson Battalion and at about 1745 hours set off towards the battalion position, leaving Dyett arguing with Herring.

  Lieutenant Herring, of the Drake Battalion, said in evidence that he was the brigade administrative officer whose duty it was to resupply the forward troops from dumps in the rear. At between 1630 and 1700 hours he saw Truscott and Dyett and about 200 men. He ordered an about-turn and told Dyet
t to follow on in rear towards the front lines. Dyett told him: ‘I am not the senior officer, and I find such chaos here. I think I had better go back and report to the brigade’. Herring followed Dyett as far as his dump in Hamel, and did not see him again. Later he reported Dyett for not having gone up to the line. Cross-examined by the defence, Herring denied that there was bad blood between Dyett and himself.

  Able Seaman (Acting Petty Officer) Cunes of the Drake Battalion said that he heard Herring tell Dyett, ‘Give Lieutenant Truscott a hand with some of these men,’ to which Dyett answered, ‘I cannot take charge amongst all this chaos and disorder. I will return to brigade for orders.’ Cunes gave it as his opinion that Dyett did not seem to grasp the situation when Herring told him to go with Truscott. Dyett, said Cunes, did not look afraid or as if he was ‘in a funk’, but ‘he looked as if he wanted to get out of it’. Evidence was given that Dyett eventually appeared at the battalion billets at Englebelmer and that when he was asked by an officer of the Royal Naval Division whether he wanted to go up to his brigade at the front, Dyett said no, he would wait for the battalion.

  This concluded the case for the prosecution, and the president now asked Dyett three questions: ‘Do you apply to give evidence yourself as a witness?’ ‘No.’ ‘Do you intend to call any other witnesses in your defence?’ ‘No.’ ‘Have you anything to say in your defence?’ ‘I do not wish to say anything at all.’

  Dyett had opted not to make any defence to the charge. Whether this indicated tremendous confidence that he was innocent, or a guilty knowledge that he was not, we shall never know.

  It was now for the prosecution and the defence to make their closing addresses. Recognising that cross-examination had exposed doubt as to exactly what orders Dyett had been given, and argument as to the relative seniority of Dyett, Truscott and Herring, the prosecutor made the simple point that no matter what orders were received, it was Dyett’s duty to rejoin his battalion, and he had not done so.

  The defending officer, given little or no ammunition by his client, nevertheless did his best. He told the court that Dyett had made four separate applications for transfer to the sea service and that the accused was ‘of a highly neurotic disposition and has for a long time felt himself unfit to occupy the position of an officer over troops in the field’. He said that the accused was confused and astounded by the state of chaos prevailing, and that he had gone to brigade headquarters for orders. Desertion, said the defending officer, was not proved by the evidence and while Dyett had shown a lack of initiative, he had only gone to brigade headquarters for further enlightenment.

  The judge advocate now summed up. He told the court that it had to decide what orders, if any, had been given to Dyett. If the court thought that the accused’s neurotic and nervous condition was such as to make it impossible for him to perform his duty – if such duty existed – it would find justification for his conduct and acquit. On the other hand, no medical evidence had been called, and the accused did not report to brigade headquarters. The court, went on the judge advocate, must be satisfied as to intent. It must be satisfied that there was an intention to avoid some particular duty before it could find the accused guilty of desertion. Finally, he reminded the court that a mistake, or an error of judgement, did not amount to desertion.

  The court then retired and considered its finding. It reassembled and announced that it found Dyett guilty of desertion. The assistant adjutant of the battalion then read Dyett’s service record to the court and the president asked Dyett, ‘Do you wish to address the court?’ Dyett replied, ‘I have nothing to say.’ The court then retired to consider sentence, which was announced in open court as ‘death by being shot’. The court, as it was entitled to do, nevertheless recommended mercy: ‘He is very young and has no experience of active operations of this nature. The circumstances, namely growing darkness, heavy shelling and the fact that the men were retiring in considerable numbers were likely to affect seriously a youth, unless he had a strong character.’

  The papers now began their journey up the chain of command, for comment and confirmation or otherwise. On 31 December the Divisional Commander, Major-General Shute, the man detested by A. P. Herbert, wrote: ‘The Division did very well on the Ancre and behaved most gallantly. Added to this Sub Lieutenant Dyett is very young and inexperienced. Beyond the above, I know of no reason why the extreme penalty should not be exacted. I recommend mercy.’

  Lieutenant General Claud Jacob, commanding II Corps, disagreed: ‘I see no reason why sentence should not be carried out’; so did General Hubert Gough commanding Fifth Army: ‘I recommend that the sentence be carried out. If a Private had behaved as he did in such circumstances, it is highly probable that he would be shot.’

  The Commander-in-Chief of the BEF confirmed the sentence on 2 January 1917. Dyett was told of the decision at 1900 hours on 4 January, and was shot by firing squad at 0730 hours on 5 January 1917. Lieutenant H. J. Davidson of the Royal Army Medical Corps certified that death was instantaneous.

  There can be no doubt that the composition of the court, and the presence of a judge advocate and a legally qualified defending officer, made the trial as fair as it was possible to be. There can also be no doubt that Dyett was young, inexperienced, inadequate, nervous, fearful and quite unsuited to life in an infantry battalion in war. The selection system had got it wrong, and by the Second War he would never have been commissioned. There can also be little doubt, regardless of General Gough’s comments, that had Dyett been a private soldier he probably would not have been shot. The fact remains, however, that, whether he should have been one or not, Dyett was an officer. He had been entrusted with the lives of the King’s soldiers and it was incumbent upon him to set an example. He did not want to be on the Western Front, but then neither did several million others, who did not run away. Dyett had to be shot: to excuse an officer would have made it impossible ever to execute an other rank for the same offence. If Dyett was facing a serious charge in a civilian court today, his personal weaknesses and character defects would be taken into account and might reduce his punishment; but the exigencies of war made it imperative that he should be executed. He had failed the test, and it was right that he paid the price. One can feel great sympathy for the man and for his family, but it would be difficult to argue that the execution should not have been carried out.

  Later it was alleged – and it is still being alleged – that A. P. Herbert’s novel The Secret Battle, in which the narrator refers to an officer shot by firing squad as ‘the bravest man I ever knew’, actually referred to Dyett. As 13 November 1916 was Dyett’s first battle, he had not had an opportunity to show whether he was brave or not, so any contention that the novel is fact disguised as fiction must itself be fiction.

  Another case that regularly surfaces in the British press is that of Lance Sergeant Stones. Stones was aged twenty-five in 1916 and was a coal miner in civilian life. He had enlisted in the 19th Battalion the Durham Light Infantry in March 1915. This was a ‘bantam battalion’, made up of men who failed to meet the army’s minimum-height requirement of 5ft 3ins., and was part of 35 Division, an all-bantam formation. The bantam experiment was one that failed: while the original recruits, despite being short in stature, were fit and tough, far too many of the reinforcements were not only below the height requirement, but were also found to be physically incapable of infantry soldiering. Bantam formations were broken up in 1917.

  On the night of 26/27 November 1916 Stones’s battalion was holding a sector of the front line in the Arras sector. Stones was the ‘NCO of the watch’ (senior NCO of the sentry group) and with the officer of the watch was patrolling the firing line when there was a German raid. The officer was wounded and some soldiers in the line panicked and ran. Stones left the firing line and was stopped at a checkpoint some 750 yards along a communication trench behind the line. He was without his rifle. On Christmas Eve 1916 Stones was brought before a Field General Court Martial charged under Section 4 of the Army Act
with ‘shamefully casting away his arms’, in that he had thrown away his rifle and run away from the front line. The president of the court was a lieutenant colonel, the commanding officer of an infantry battalion; and the members were three captains, including a legally qualified Courts Martial Officer. Stones was defended by a captain of his battalion who was a qualified solicitor.

  During the hearing there was dispute as to whether Stones had run away and left his wounded officer. The prosecution said he had, the defence said that the officer had told Stones to raise the alarm. The men at the checkpoint said that Stones had told them that he had dropped his rifle and bayonet across the trench on his way down to give the alarm. In evidence in his own defence Stones said that he had placed his rifle across the trench to stop the Germans getting at him: his intention was to create a barrier to stop enemy progress. Evidence was also given as to Stones’s state of health, and there was argument as to whether there was or was not anything wrong with his legs. Stones was found guilty, and the subsequent character reference was favourable to him. The court sentenced Stones to death, and while both battalion and brigade commanders recommended mercy, the divisional, corps and army commanders did not. The sentence was duly confirmed by the Commander-in-Chief and Stones was executed on 18 January 1917.

  It is not, of course, possible at this distance to know how the court arrived at its finding; but reading the surviving record of the trial, one cannot help doubting whether the ‘running away’ was proved in law.17 Protagonists of Stones today aver that, far from casting away his arms and running, Stones was actually acting in a heroic fashion because he built a barrier to the enemy before going to give the alarm. To the military eye this simply does not stand up to scrutiny. A rifle placed, or even wedged, across a trench does not constitute a barrier. Even the puniest German could jump over it, duck under it or simply brush it aside. It would be a ridiculous claim from a private, never mind from a senior NCO. A far more practical method of stopping them would have been to open fire! Stones admitted that his rifle was loaded, although the breech cover (a canvas cover over the breech and bolt to prevent clogging by mud) was on. Removal of a breech cover takes less than one second.