Despatch Rider on the Western Front, 1915–18: The Diary of Sergeant Albert Simpkin MM

Preface

During my 4 years’ service as a despatch rider (DR) I kept a diary. According to army regulations, diaries were not allowed while on active service. Therefore my notes were always made in a very abbreviated or even cryptic form which was not intelligible to anyone but myself. I now intend to transcribe my notes before the experiences I have recorded pass out of my memory.

Looking back, I am sure a despatch rider with a division had one of the most interesting jobs in the army. All day long he was roaming the shell-broken roads and tracks behind the trenches, acting as postman, keeping the staff in touch with the infantry and artillery brigades and auxiliary units located in the divisional area. The DR, as he was always called, saw the war from the ‘stalls’, sometimes running the gauntlet of the shelling of the roads within range of the German artillery. His greatest danger came from road transport at night, when the ammunition and supplies were sent up the line under the cover of darkness. Worming his way through the horse and motor waggons and the long lines of pack animals, he risked falling under the wheels of vehicles or becoming a target for the hooves of the horses and mules, who had a rabid hatred of motorcycles and showed it by lashing out with their hind legs.

In summer the DR lived in a cloud of dust; in the winter he was plastered with mud. In times of trouble and strife he had no set working hours. He worked on a roster, eating and sleeping when he could. He was the despair of the sergeant major because he could not be subjected to strict army discipline and routine. When the DR left HQ with despatches he might have to find his quarry without the help of a map reference in an area of 10 square miles, often at night, no headlights allowed.

A classic example of finding a needle in a haystack was made by one of our fellows when the division was leaving the Somme. An urgent message had to be delivered to an officer travelling north, who was thought to be on a 10 mile stretch of road crowded with troops and transport moving in opposite directions. It was pitch dark, raining in torrents and blowing a howling gale. The officer would, most likely, be inside a lorry with the infantry. Our DR found his man after a 3 hour search. Even the staff expressed their astonishment and appreciation. They had not expected the officer to be found before daylight.

In times like these the DR relies on his experience and instinct. A failure on his part would be looked upon as a reflection of the whole section.

‘Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor the gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift accomplishment of their appointed routes.’ There is little doubt that Herodotus had the despatch rider in mind when he wrote these words.

CHAPTER ONE

Joining up

1 AUGUST 1914, MANCHESTER

The newspapers are full of the declaration of war between France and Germany. Six months ago one would have said that war was impossible in these enlightened times, but looking back, it is now plain that Germany has been preparing for war for the past 10 years and her periodic threats were not idle ones, and now she has taken the opportunity of using the Serbian affair as an excuse to declare war.

My brother came home from the Territorials’ camp today. From what he has heard it is almost certain that Britain will be drawn into the quarrel. He expects to be called up at any moment.

3 AUGUST 1914, REDCAR

I had to go to Redcar [Yorkshire] today on business. At night in the hotel, I had to listen to a lot of cheap ‘Jingos’ who were very wrath with Asquith that the government had not declared war. In the hotel was a young fellow about my age who confided to me that he was on his honeymoon and that he was a reservist and would be called up if war was declared. I felt sorry for him having to listen to these fools who would rush into war without considering the consequences.

4 AUGUST 1914

At about noon, I saw a group of people gathered outside the post office reading a telegram posted on the notice board: ‘England has declared War on Germany.’ There was no excitement. It was evident that the people did not realise its significance. Later in the afternoon, there was a rumour that a naval battle was being fought off Flamborough Head. Crowds gathered on the seafront but nothing could be heard or seen.

5 AUGUST 1914, MANCHESTER

My brother has been called up and spends his time with the officers, commandeering horses for the artillery, which is causing no little stir among the townspeople. One old fellow I know is hiding his horse in the back yard, but from what I have seen of the animal there is little likelihood of its being taken.

1 SEPTEMBER 1914

The country has got the war fever badly. The recruiting stations are besieged but only names are being taken at present. I have put my name down for the RFA – I tried to get into my brother’s battery but they will not take inexperienced men.

14 SEPTEMBER 1914

I have been travelling up and down the country almost continuously: Carlisle, North Wales, Cardiff, Devon. I now use my motorcycle for all journeys as I find it quicker and more convenient than the trains. Whilst in Bideford [Devon] I saw one of the German bands who visit England each summer, wandering through the country towns and villages playing for coppers. Nobody was taking any notice of them, except some small boys who were making rude noises. Being enemy subjects, I suppose they are stranded and will be interned. I felt sorry for them. People are saying that the war will be over by Christmas. I cannot believe it – the war has not started and the news does not look good.

I have called at the RFA recruiting office several times, but they have no news when we shall be called up. The infantry are now taking men but I do not care for the infantry. I always hated walking! I do not think I ever walked 5 miles at a stretch; I have almost lived on wheels since I was 12-years-old. I would cycle to the end of the road to post a letter and later I took to motorcycling as the natural sequel to push cycling. The infantry with its ‘foot-slogging’ has no attraction to me. In the RFA, I should ride a horse or have a seat on a limber or waggon, or at least that is what I thought.

I put my name down for future units which might be formed and waited hopefully for several weeks.

Some of my friends have gone to join the Manchester Pals Battalion and I am greatly tempted to follow them in sheer despair at not being able to get into the RFA.

26 SEPTEMBER 1914

A few days ago I received a notice from the Auto Cyclists’ Union (ACU) of which I am a member, calling for experienced motorcyclists to join the army as despatch riders. I filled in the form and today I received word to report to the ACU office in London.

15 OCTOBER 1914

According to the ACU, the army will buy any motorcycle in good condition belonging to the recruits. I have therefore bought a new Douglas Twin as my machine is 3-years-old and getting the worse for wear. I have also bought some heavy wool underclothes in anticipation of the winter as we hear there is a big shortage of uniforms and clothing for new recruits. I have also paid some visits to the dentist to have my teeth overhauled.

I shall not tell my firm that I am joining up until the last moment as I see there is a plan to put all engineers on a civilian basis which will not allow them to join the army.

26 OCTOBER 1914

Travelled to London today. My father saw me off at the station, I felt no more emotion than if I had been making one of my normal business trips, although I expected to be sent to France right away.

27 OCTOBER 1914

A full day. First I went to the ACU office where I found a couple of dozen fellows there for the same purpose as myself. Each one was questioned as to his education, occupation and motor-cycling experience. We were supposed to know something of map reading and French. I have been swotting up my school French which was pretty rusty, but found I had remembered sufficient to ask and answer simple questions.

After this we were sent to Whitehall for medical examination. I passed all right, but several were turned down for ruptures or poor eyesight. We were then passed to another department where, standing in a circle with Bible in hand, we were sworn in a dozen at a time. Just as the officer began to read the oath one fellow blurted out, ‘Oh, I can’t, I’m a Jew,’ which raised a general laugh.

He was told to stand aside and the business proceeded. Then we filled in some forms and lastly received our first day’s pay, two brand new shillings – just enough to keep one in cigarettes and a couple of drinks per day. We are now soldiers of the King, the rawest of raw recruits. We were told to report to the Royal Engineers’ depot at Chatham tomorrow.

28 OCTOBER 1914, CHATHAM

Presenting ourselves at the depot this morning we were at once promoted to the rank of corporal. It seems all despatch riders have to be corporals which gives them the privilege of speaking with a commissioned officer without previous introduction, or something similar. It is all very mysterious and amusing. What a regular army corporal would say it would be interesting to hear.

CHAPTER TWO

Training

2 DECEMBER 1914, CHATHAM

Today we were issued with a uniform of sorts. It is made of very thin serge with black bone buttons. Some of the fellows recognise it as being similar to those worn by native troops in the tropics. For headgear we have been given a shiny peaked hat like a tram driver’s. We have also been issued with a civilian overcoat, two shirts, ‘one on and one in the wash’ as the Quartermaster said, two pairs of socks, two pairs of boots which look suspiciously like brown paper, a knife, fork and spoon and lastly a piece of cutlery which we eventually identified as an army razor.

Those who have not brought their own motorcycles have been issued with new machines, BSA, Zenith, Rudge, Douglas etc. I have brought my own Douglas for which I shall be paid.

3 DECEMBER 1914

Today we made our first appearance in uniform feeling very self-conscious – even the officers could not suppress a smile. We look like a set of convicts. We have been divided into three sections, about ten to a section. Each section has been allotted to a Signal Company, the 30th, 31st and 32nd. I am in the 31st Signal Company.

We have been told we are being sent to Buxton for training and we are leaving tomorrow. This is rather a disappointment as I expected to be sent to France right away, but from what I have seen of some of these fellows riding I am not surprised. Very few could be called experienced riders.

4 DECEMBER 1914

This morning we loaded our machines in railway vans at the local station, but first we had to empty the tanks and the local taxi drivers got a windfall of free petrol. Crossing London, our section tried to make a procession of pairs but we lost two riders on the way. Arriving at St Pancras we found an RE sergeant waiting to take charge. When the train stopped at Leicester Square I was astonished to hear someone calling my name. I put my head out of the window and a boy thrust a telegram into my hand. For an awful moment I thought it was from my employers telling me to return. It was from Morris saying he had missed the train and was coming on the next. My name was the only one he could remember.

It was past nine o’clock when we reached Buxton, a black night with drizzling rain. What awaited us we had not the slightest idea – a camp with tents we imagined. We were marched off in groups according to our Company. We had a very pleasant surprise to find ourselves billeted in a small Hydro with a hot meal awaiting us. This is soldiering under ideal conditions.

1 JANUARY 1915, BUXTON

We have now been in the army just a month. Our daily routine is usually as follows. We parade at 07:30 washed and shaved. After roll call we go for a route march, then breakfast, followed by drill, with a long break before dinner. In the afternoon we have buzzer practice, flag waving and Morse. Then we have lectures on electricity and the construction of telegraph instruments. If we are to become expert in all these we shall not see France for a long time.

Occasionally we get out on our motorcycles when we indulge in scorching to our hearts’ content, much to the alarm of the townspeople who have not seen really fast riding before.

22 JANUARY 1915

One of the section, Morris, has left us to take a commission in the naval machine guns. We gave him a dinner at one of the local hotels and an uproarious send-off. There is a craze for collecting souvenirs: ashtrays from local pubs, name plates and sign boards. The chief souvenir, however, is a huge dinner gong which stands in the hall of one of the billets. It has changed hands several times but it is a point of honour that it must be captured by stealth and not by combat, and it must be kept in the entrance hall.

Hockey on roller skates is the latest craze. Each signal company has a team and some fierce matches have been played, usually with casualties. One of our team, Norman, had his ankle broken last week.

12 FEBRUARY 1915

Today I was promoted to sergeant of the despatch riders’ section – why I do not know. I am not senior in service or years, but possibly I am the most experienced rider, and have a good drilling voice. That voice, which used to be such a trouble to me in my teens, loud and gruff, has come into its own. As my mother used to say, ‘Keep anything seven years and it is sure to come in.’

3 MARCH 1915

We are now engaged in schemes in which the whole company takes part. Telegraph lines are laid across country to outlying villages where signal offices are set up, usually in a room of the village pub. The DRs keep communication between these offices and HQ which is in Buxton. One of the offices is in Castleton, 10 miles away. There is great competition between the riders to set up the fastest time between the two places.

8 MARCH 1915

One of our riders, Blakeway, had a bad smash yesterday. He is in the cottage hospital with a broken leg, a broken collar bone and smashed fingers. He came in head-on collision with an officer who was learning to ride a motorcycle. The officer had concussion – it is a wonder neither was killed. I am afraid the major will stop fast riding after this accident. According to Blakeway the officer lost his head and came round a corner on the wrong side.

9 MARCH 1915

There is an epidemic of measles in the army, the German variety. Today I felt very seedy and feverish so I went to the doctor and had to go to bed right away. There is a house set apart for measles and scabies which is also very rife.

15 MARCH 1915

Out for the first time today, after 4 days in bed and isolation for the remainder of the time. At one end of the room were men with measles and at the other men with scabies. It is a wonder we did not get the scabies and they the measles.

17 MARCH 1915

I returned to the section today. Blakeway is still in hospital and from all accounts he will be there another month. He has his souvenirs arranged on the mantle-piece of his room. The apple of his eye is the nameplate of a local doctor, and who should walk in one day but the doctor himself. He was a good sport and pretended not to see it, but I have no doubt its cost will be on the bill. Blakeway is having private treatment.

4 APRIL 1915

To keep us fit and amused we have cross country races and sham fights. In one ‘fight’ we were supposed to storm a fort at the top of a hill. To make things more realistic one of the officers had brought a number of rockets and crackers which the defenders let off at the attackers. One of the fellows managed to stop a rocket in full flight with his face, fortunately with no worse result than a splendid black eye. Everyone agrees they have never seen a finer one. Shaftoe, the owner, is quite a good sport and has allowed it to be photographed from all angles.

10 APRIL 1915

Our training continues, lamp signalling at night, map making and reading, horse riding, telegraph pole climbing with leg irons, wiring; there seems to be no end to it. There are no signs of our going to France just yet. Occasionally, we have ‘scheme days’ on our motorcycles. We are given a route over the roughest roads and tracks, usually among the hills to test our map-reading and riding ability.

Since arriving at Buxton we have paid for all the petrol used in our motorcycles. It appears there is no provision in the company’s expenses for buying petrol. I hope this will not continue much longer or we shall all be broke. I have already spent a lot more than the army has paid which has to be made up from my private account. Although many firms pay volunteers full or half pay, the firm I was with pay nothing.

2 MAY 1915

We hear that we are moving very shortly to Hitchin, which is the HQ of the signal companies and from there we shall be sent to France. This sounds promising.

4 MAY 1915

The DRs travelled down by road, the mechanic and me bringing up the rear to give aid in case of breakdowns. I do not think we rode more than five miles continuously without having to stop to help one rider or another. I am beginning to think that some of these fellows will never make riders. A man should understand his machine as well as be able to ride it.

8 JUNE 1915

The townspeople have been making complaints about the fast riding and the noise of the motorcycles. This morning when the company was dismissed the DRs were told to stand fast.

The OC came over and started to read the riot act. ‘This mad riding must stop, all the townspeople are complaining and the next man who …’ – the OC paused and looked up the road. A motorcycle could be heard tearing down the Letchworth Hill and the next moment it flashed past the parade like a streak of lightning. The OC exploded: ‘Who was that man, Sergeant Major? Bring him up tonight and I will make an example of him.’ It was ‘Jersey’ [Corporal R. Norman] putting his foot in it as usual.

A smile of satisfaction passed over the sergeant major’s face, the DRs are the bane of his life. Their happy-go-lucky manner of running roughshod over all army rules is turning his hair grey. ‘And when they gets on them motorbikes they goes stark mad – talk about training the young buggers, they want taming first!’

10 JUNE 1915

We are leaving Hitchin tomorrow and we shall not be sorry to go. It is a small town and the country around is very uninteresting.

12 JUNE 1915, TIDWORTH

Six DRs were told to travel by road to Tidworth but only three arrived, myself and two others. Two disappeared and one had a collision with a motor car and we had to leave him behind to get his machine repaired. What use these fellows will be as DRs I cannot think, they cannot ride a few miles without having an accident or losing their way.

The missing riders turned up this morning, one slept in a ditch all night after wandering all over Salisbury Plain without finding us. The plain is covered with camps in all directions.

13 JUNE 1915

We have taken over the complete equipment of the company we are relieving, which includes twenty or thirty mules. The night I arrived in camp there was a continual sound of ‘outbursts’ from the direction of the horse lines. I couldn’t sleep for the noise. At last I asked, ‘What’s that noise?’ ‘Oh, that’s the mules farting.’ I thought the fellow was trying to pull my leg so I said no more, but it was true enough. The poor brutes had not been exercised for days and from the effects of a corn diet their bellies were blown up like balloons.

16 JUNE 1915

The weather has been frightfully hot since we arrived. Our camp is in a hollow, the ground pure chalk which reflects the heat. In the early afternoon it is unbearable.

18 JUNE 1915

One of our DRs – Nunn – has had a bad smash at one of the crossroads nearby, colliding with a motor car. It is a miracle he was not killed. His leg is badly broken so he will be a non-starter when we go overseas. This makes three we have in hospital. Just before we left Hitchin we lost a rider who was taken to hospital for repairs to his face after running into the back of a lorry while on a night scheme. We were not upset when we heard the news as he was very unpopular and the butt of the section.

25 JUNE 1915

Our division, the 37th, was reviewed [at Cholderton] by HM The King today. It was a fine sight, especially the march past which stretched for almost a mile. As the King passed on horseback with our General Gleichen who I believe is a cousin of the King, I heard the King say, ‘There are some despatch riders short,’ which was quite correct: some were on duty and others in hospital. The 37th Division will be one of the first of the ‘Kitchener’s Divisions’ to go to France.

4 JULY 1915

Another rider went to hospital today. A smash at the same crossroads where Nunn had his accident last week. It is the same prize idiot who tried to move a waggon with his face. He had not been back two or three days. To go to hospital twice in one month must be a record. Anyway, he will not be missed, but this series of accidents is making the DRs look very foolish.

10 JULY 1915

We are to be given five days’ leave before we go to France.

14 JULY 1915

I caught the 18:00 train from Salisbury, arriving home for breakfast.

19 JULY 1915

Returned to Tidworth today. I spent my time quietly, visiting friends and putting my few affairs in order. There were no parting scenes thank goodness, in fact I might have been going on holiday.

20 JULY 1915

Our new motorcycles have arrived, all Triumphs. I find they handle rather heavily compared with my light Douglas machine. While I have been away ‘Jersey’ has been in the limelight again. One morning, having some spare time on his hands, he volunteered to take the general’s horse to water. Riding bareback, everything went well until they reached the horse troughs when something startled the horse and it took a jump clean over the troughs. It then tore across the plain at full gallop with ‘Jersey’ holding on for dear life. The troops waved and cheered which urged the horse to greater efforts, taking ditches and hedges like a hunter, in fact, it was a hunter. After dashing through a farmyard, to the astonishment of some men building a haystack, it headed for home arriving in time to deposit its rider almost at the feet of the general who, pretending not to see the hurried dismount, dryly remarked, ‘That horse has been galloping.’

27 JULY 1915

We are under orders to move at eight hours’ notice. As the company is considerably over-strength the surplus men have to be sent back to the Reserve Depot. Although it is known more or less who would be left behind it has caused much heartburning now the names are posted. It must have been very difficult to pick out the men who should be left behind because with very few exceptions the company is uniformly good. In our section we have no surplus. All our reserves are in hospital. Two days ago we were one man over-strength but the man himself solved the question by colliding