Boy Soldiers of the Great War (20 page)

a very small and sickly looking man, who looked as if he had not had anything to eat for a long time, and three small boys, suddenly appeared. The chairman turned to the magistrate on
the other side and said something to him, and the three boys and the man disappeared with the magistrate through another door. I said, ‘What did you do that for? If these boys are defendants in this case, why do they not go into the dock?’ The reply was ‘They are recruits.’

Although there is no evidence that either reformatories or borstals had a habit of sending miscreant lads into the clutches of the armed forces, nevertheless a small number of such boys did find their way into khaki. Of 336 boys released from borstal institutions in the year ending March 1915, 150 were in the forces, while in all some 600 former borstal boys were known to be serving. As the age of majority was twenty-one years, boys up to that age could be sent to borstal rather than to prison. This meant that many, but by no means all, were already of military age and were accompanied by borstal attendants to recruiting stations in exchange for their release on licence.

William Swift, a lad from Liverpool, had been convicted of ‘shopbreaking’ in January 1914, when he was sixteen. He had been given a three-year custodial sentence, but by June 1915 he had served half of it, and was discharged into the army. His parents, aware of his enlistment, cautiously wrote to the Borstal Association that they had no objection to his serving his country, but felt he was too young to serve in the front line.

William had no qualms about joining up. Almost as soon as he arrived for training, he wrote home saying that he was doing his best. Brief records kept by the Borstal Association noted that he had begun to run for the regiment and that he had written asking for money to buy shorts. By February 1916 he was winning races, but bemoaned the fact that, because of his age, he was being kept back from the front.

By July, William had his wish. Although still under age, he was sent to France to join C Company of the 8th King’s Own Royal Lancaster Regiment. His letters home record that the ‘grub’ was
better than that served in England, and overall it was ‘all right down here’. The following month, his battalion was involved in an attack in which it suffered serious casualties, and his parents wrote to ask for his return. By September he had, to his disgust, been removed from the trenches until he was nineteen. His borstal report noted that ‘he would rather have remained in the line as he was an acting sergeant and platoon commander, and he couldn’t expect further promotion from his current position [behind the lines]’.

Little more was heard of William until the following year, when a letter was sent by the Reverend Martin Leonard, DSO, chaplain to the battalion, to the Borstal Association stating that William had been killed in the trenches on 29 May 1917. His casebook was closed.

Another borstal boy who hoped to make good in the army was Thomas Clarke from Wolverhampton. He had been convicted of theft and given two years’ detention, but by April 1915 he had also been released under licence into the army, being walked to the recruitment office by borstal staff. By June, Thomas, like William Swift, was enjoying army life and he wanted to sign on for seven years. After receiving fourteen weeks’ training, he was on his way to France and the trenches, aged just seventeen.

Not much is known of his service overseas until April of the following year, when his battalion, the 1st Royal Berkshire Regiment, was issued with orders to proceed up the line. It was at this point that Thomas absconded from his regiment, being picked up by the authorities shortly afterwards. The seriousness of his crime might not have become apparent to the teenager until his court martial, when he was charged not just with desertion but with an unspecified case of theft. He was court-martialled in the field on 28 April 1916 and sentenced to death.

In due course, details of the sentence were received by the Borstal Association back in England, as was the news that his
sentence had been commuted: he was ‘let off with ten years which he will have to do after the war as he was too young to be shot’, noted a borstal official.

Thomas was returned to his battalion and was wounded soon afterwards. He was sent to England to recover and, when he embarked again for France, he wrote to his mother saying he hoped that his future would be a brighter one. It was not to be. Just days after rejoining the battalion, he was sent into action on 14 November and was killed. He was buried very close to the spot where he died. On his gravestone is the family’s dedication: ‘In cherished memory. Gone but not forgotten’.

There was, and remained, a dichotomy at the heart of the Government’s stance over boy soldiering. Young boys, while not actively encouraged to join up by Government, nevertheless fulfilled a crucial role in recruitment by humiliating their elders into enlisting. It was no coincidence that uniformed groups such as the Boy Scouts and Boys’ Brigade were frequently to be seen, and photographed by the press, at recruitment rallies organized by the Parliamentary Recruitment Committee, waving flags and leading marches: if young boys were shown to be doing their bit, what excuse a man? The newspapers, reflecting the mixed attitude, frequently revelled in stories of boy soldier endeavours. Roy Upfold had his moment of fame when a story appeared in his local paper under the dramatic heading, ‘BOY OF 15 IN THE TRENCHES, Remarkable Spirit of Tunbridge Wells Youth’. In the article, he is referred to as a ‘hero’ twice, not least for his desire to avenge a brother who had been killed at the front. Most local newspapers ran stories of ‘their’ boys who had apparently ‘made good’ by enlisting under age. ‘Winchester Stripling At The Dardanelles’, tub-thumped one; ‘The Fighting Spirit’, thundered another.

Ben Clouting, who had been out in France from the start of the war when aged just sixteen, made regular appearances in
his local newspaper under headings such as ‘BOY SOLDIER’S EXPERIENCE’:

Yesterday morning Mr and Mrs W. Clouting of Littledene, Beddingham, received a letter from their soldier son, Private Ben Clouting, 4th Dragoon Guards … [he] intimates that he is still ‘going strong’. Private Clouting, although only seventeen, is a fine big fellow, and has already had some exciting experiences, taking part in the Battle of
Mons.
He celebrated his seventeenth birthday at the Front. He was formerly a member of the Southdown Troop of Boy Scouts, and the training he then received is standing him in good stead. Ben’s letters home are quite cheery, but, of course, it is not all honey out there. His many friends will wish him every success in his military career.

An article in the
Tamworth Herald
recounted the experiences of Private George Collett, who had enlisted at fourteen:

So well developed was he that he deceived the doctors who accepted his statement that he was 19 and a half. Indeed, one army doctor passed him with the comment that he was ‘a well developed man for his age (19 and a half)’. Young Collett was five feet nine inches in height and looked much older than he was.

In early 1916, his parents had tried to get their son released but he had refused to come home. In a letter home to a friend, printed in the newspaper, Private Collett gave his reasons for staying.

I think it is my duty to stop out here. I assure you that the wet muddy trenches are no attraction, it is no delight to sit in two foot of water all night long. Nevertheless, why are we all sticking it so? Supposing all of us chaps were to give in, then the Boches would get through. We have seen and heard what the Germans did to the peasants when they advanced in the early part of the war, and we
know they would do their work just as well on the English civilians provided they got through and overrun England. That is the reason we have got to hold out. So you can see the reason why I am sticking it, there are plenty of chaps not much older than me doing the same.

‘This is the spirit that has made England what she is today,’ the newspaper preached to its readership, ‘the bulwark of the Allies.’

Even those boys who returned home severely wounded were not necessarily cause for any press or public soul-searching or introspection. When Private Howard Peck, a seventeen-year-old lad from Nottingham serving with the 1/8th Notts & Derby Regiment, was wounded in October 1915, his plight was evident for all to see. His face ‘was badly smashed’, he had lost three toes off one foot, and his other leg was also badly damaged. The boy’s obvious fortitude while in considerable pain won the admiration of Mrs M., a visitor to Peck’s hospital in Leeds. In a letter to the local
Hucknall Dispatch
, dated 25 November, Mrs M. wrote:

I visit the hospital very frequently, and have never heard young Peck murmur. He is a splendid fellow, and has won the admiration of the staff, and his fellow sufferers. If our boys possess such a spirit I think we need not worry about the future of our country, or the final decision of right against might.

Given the extent of his injuries, Peck’s long-term future was quite probably less rosy than the nation’s.

It was not only local newspapers that took an interest in the boys; national newspapers also ran stories about young soldiers, asking just who the youngest serving soldier at the front might be. The
Daily Mail
, which was periodically to campaign with Sir Arthur Markham for the return of young soldiers, printed stories
that appeared to praise their military prowess. ‘SOLDIER OF 14. BOY IN SAME REGIMENT AS HIS FATHER’, ran one article in July 1915:

Hundreds of boys of fifteen have enlisted, but a case has just become known of a lad of 14 who grasped an opportunity to enter the army. ‘Isn’t it time you young men did something for your country?’ asked a recruiting sergeant of a group outside a musichall some time ago. ‘Rather,’ said a sturdy lad named Priest (aged 14), who looked up eagerly. ‘How old are you?’ ‘Sixteen,’ said Priest. ‘Sixteen! A fine young man like you would pass for nineteen anywhere. Come along!’ And young Priest went. He is now a private in the same regiment as his father, who is 41 years of age. Priest’s old schoolfellows have sent him a five-shilling War Loan Voucher.

Parents at home or abroad wanted to share their pride in their sons’ patriotism. The father of fourteen-year-old Lance Corporal Christopher Paget-Clark, the scout who had been on coastal patrol in Devon before he enlisted, reacted to the Priest story by writing to the
Mail
about his own son:

Dear Sir

In your Monday’s issue I note that you refer to the enlistment of a lad of 14 and another similar case may perhaps be of interest to your readers. It may also assist to stimulate the younger generation to come forward and afford an example to the slackers of more mature age.

The
Mail
ran the story, as well as news of yet ‘More Soldiers of 14’, printing names and information provided by proud families. Ten days later the
Daily Sketch
ran a picture of Paget-Clark, noting his lance corporal status, and also featured the picture of George Moor, who had, at eighteen, just won the Victoria Cross at Gallipoli, his
childlike image appearing beneath the words ‘BOY OFFICER WINS THE V.C.’. The overriding impression given by all the newspapers, both local and national, was that none of these boys, though their names and units were publicized, would be afforded the indignity of being sent home.

At one moment the newspapers appeared to praise the actions of these young boys, the next they sounded words of warning. One correspondent of
The Times
wrote in 1915:

We must not be too particular in seeking recruits at this stage of the war, but there must be a limit. And we think that limit has been reached in the case of what is known as the Bantam Battalion [men officially between five foot and five foot three; unofficially they were taken two even three inches smaller] of the Royal Scots. I have lately been in the Scottish capital, and could not fail to notice the unmistakable youth of some of the recruits of this corps. I am prepared to say that a considerable number of these lads were not more than fourteen. I spoke to them, and their manner, their physique, and voices were a sufficient indication of their real ages … The Recruiting Staff officers should be asked for an explanation.

It was a view entirely endorsed later by an officer, Captain Eric Whitworth, of the 12th South Wales Borderers, a Bantam battalion in the 40th Bantam Division. In France he had come across a tearful seventeen-year-old who could no longer stand the trials that overseas service presented. Whitworth managed to secure the boy a ‘cushy job’ with the Divisional Military Police. ‘He [the boy] left the next morning smiling and grateful,’ wrote Whitworth adding:

But we ought not to have these boys with us … The genuine Bantam is a fully developed man of small height and most are very fine men; the Bantam was never meant to be growing boys, as
40% or 50% of ours are, in the eagerness to join up at the beginning of the war. One can only blame the authorities.

At the end of August 1915, the War Office had issued a memorandum forbidding the practice of enlisting boys for ‘Bantam’ battalions while, shortly afterwards, repeating its first order made in December 1914 that no boys under the prescribed age for overseas service should be sent abroad:

Cases of men of the T.F. [Territorial Force] being sent abroad below the attestation age of 19 years are still being frequently brought to notice. GOs C.-in-C. should again impress upon all concerned the necessity of complying with the instructions …

The Government was finding it difficult to control recruiting sergeants who ignored directives either because they were patriotic and overzealous, or because the financial rewards were too great an incentive to forgo. They were also failing to deal with commanding officers of home depots, who were under intense pressure to send to France drafts that were battle-ready. Ten months later, in response to questions in the House, Harold Tennant admitted that not only had no court martial ever taken place against a boy for ‘fraudulent enlistment’, but that no recruiting sergeant or officer had been prosecuted for deliberately accepting boys who were under age.