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WAR LETTERS
OF A
PUBLIC-SCHOOL BOY
[Illustration: Lieut. Paul Jones.
(_From a Photograph by his Brother._)]
WAR LETTERS
OF A
PUBLIC-SCHOOL BOY
BY
PAUL JONES
Lieutenant of the Tank Corps
Scholar-Elect of Balliol College, Oxford: Head of the Modern Side
and Captain of Football, Dulwich College, 1914
WITH A MEMOIR BY HIS FATHER
HARRY JONES
_He was the very embodiment in himself of all that is best in the
public-school spirit, the very incarnation of self-sacrifice and
devotion._
A DULWICH MASTER.
WITH EIGHT PLATES
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD
London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne
1918
CONTENTS
Page
Introductory 1
PART I. MEMOIR
Chapter
1. Childhood 9
2. At Dulwich College 14
3. Football 28
4. Cricket 37
5. Editor of _The Alleynian_ 41
6. Public Schools and the War 47
7. Tastes and Hobbies 52
8. Music 59
9. Literature and Ethics 72
10. History and Politics 85
11. In the Army 98
12. Personal Characteristics 110
PART II. WAR LETTERS
At a Home Port 121
With the 9th Cavalry Brigade 131
With a Supply Column 186
In the Somme Battlefield 202
With the 2nd Cavalry Brigade 212
With the Tank Corps 229
PART III
Epilogue 257
INDEX 277
LIST OF PLATES
H. P. M. Jones as 2nd Lieut. A.S.C. _Frontispiece_
_To face page_
Paul as an Infant 8
In his 6th Year 12
Winning the Mile, March 27, 1915 22
Dulwich College First XV, 1914-15 28
Dulwich Modern Side XV, 1914-15 32
Paul Jones in his 19th Year 110
As a Subaltern in the A.S.C. 120
WAR LETTERS
OF A
PUBLIC-SCHOOL BOY
INTRODUCTORY
_These laid the world away; poured out the red
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be
Of work and joy ...
And those who would have been,
Their sons, they gave, their immortality._
RUPERT BROOKE.
In deciding to publish some of the letters written by the late
Lieutenant H. P. M. Jones during his twenty-seven months' service with
the British Army, accompanying them with a memoir, I was actuated by a
desire, first, to enshrine the memory of a singularly noble and
attractive personality; secondly, to describe a career which, though
tragically cut short, was yet rich in honourable achievement; thirdly,
to show the influence of the Great War on the mind of a public-school
boy of high intellectual gifts and sensitive honour, who had shone
with equal lustre as a scholar and as an athlete.
My choice of the title of this book was determined by the frequent
allusions made by my son in his war letters to his old school. He
spent six and a half years at Dulwich College. His career there was
gloriously happy and very distinguished. On the scholastic side, it
culminated in December, 1914, in the winning of a scholarship in
History and Modern Languages at Balliol College, Oxford; on the
athletic side, in his carrying off four silver cups at the Athletic
Sports in March, 1915, and tieing for the "Victor Ludorum" shield.
As a merry, light-hearted boy in his early years at Dulwich, his love
for the College was marked. It waxed with every term he spent within
its walls. After he left it, that love became a passion, sustained,
coloured and glorified by happy memories. Everybody and everything
connected with it shared in his glowing affection. Its welfare and
reputation were infinitely precious to him. Like a _leitmotif_ in a
musical composition, this love of Dulwich College recurs again and
again in his war letters. Every honour won by a Dulwich boy on the
battlefield, in scholarship or in athletics gave him exquisite
pleasure. The very last letter he wrote is irradiated with love of the
old school. When he joined the Tank Corps, stripping, as it were, for
the deadly combat, he sent to the depot at Boulogne all his
impedimenta. But among the few cherished personal possessions that he
took with him into the zone of death were two photographs--one of the
College buildings, the other of the Playing Fields, this latter
depicting the cricket matches on Founder's Day. In death as in life
Dulwich was close to his heart.
Paul Jones was a young man of herculean strength--tall, muscular,
deep-chested and broad-shouldered. But he had one grave physical
defect. He was extremely short-sighted, had worn spectacles habitually
from his sixth year and was almost helpless without them. In fact, his
vision was not one-twelfth of normal. Much to his chagrin, his myopia
excluded him from the Infantry which he tried to enter in the spring
of 1915, and he had to put up with a Commission as a subaltern in the
Army Service Corps. His first three months in the Army were spent at a
home port, one of the chief depots of supply for the British Army in
the field. Eagerly embracing the first chance to go abroad, he left
Southampton for Havre in the last week of July, 1915. A few days
after his arrival in France, he was appointed requisitioning officer
to the 9th Cavalry Brigade--a post for the duties of which he was
specially qualified by his excellent knowledge of the French language.
After 11 months in this employment, he was appointed to a Supply
Column, and subsequently, during the protracted battles on the Somme,
was in command of an ammunition working party. In October, 1916, he
was again appointed requisitioning officer, this time to the 2nd
Cavalry Brigade.
Though his duties were often laborious and exacting, his relative
freedom from peril and hardship while other men were facing death
every day in the trenches sorely troubled his conscience. Feeling that
he was not pulling his weight in the war and seeing no prospect of the
Cavalry going into action he resolved, at all hazards, to get into the
fighting line. After two abortive efforts to transfer from the A.S.C.,
he succeeded on the third attempt, and was appointed Lieutenant in the
Tank Corps, which he joined on 13th February, 1917. His elation at the
change was unbounded, and thenceforth his letters home sang with joy.
He took part as a Tank officer in the battle of Arras in April, and
when the great offensive was planned in Flanders he was shifted to
that sector. In the battle of 31st July, when advancing with his tank
north-east of Ypres, he was killed by a sniper's bullet. He seemed to
have had a premonition some days before that death might soon claim
him. In a letter to his brother, a Dulwich school boy, dated 27th
July, he wrote:
Have you ever reflected on the fact that, despite the horrors of
the war, it is at least a big thing? I mean to say that in it one
is brought face to face with realities. The follies, selfishness,
luxury and general pettiness of the vile commercial sort of
existence led by nine-tenths of the people of the world in peace
time are replaced in war by a savagery that is at least more
honest and outspoken. Look at it this way: in peace time one just
lives one's own little life, engaged in trivialities, worrying
about one's own comfort, about money matters, and all that sort
of thing--just living for one's own self. What a sordid life it
is! In war, on the other hand, even if you do get killed, you
only anticipate the inevitable by a few years in any case, and
you have the satisfaction of knowing that you have "pegged out"
in the attempt to help your country. You have, in fact, realised
an ideal, which, as far as I can see, you very rarely do in
ordinary life. The reason is that ordinary life runs on a
commercial and selfish basis; if you want to "get on," as the
saying is, you can't keep your hands clean.
Personally, I often rejoice that the war has come my way. It has
made me realise what a petty thing life is. I think that the war
has given to everyone a chance to "get out of himself," as I
might say. Of course, the other side of the picture is bound to
occur to the imagination. But there! I have never been one to
take the more melancholy point of view when there's a silver
lining to the cloud.
The eagerness to subordinate self displayed in this letter was very
characteristic of its author. He was by nature altruistic, and this
propensity was intensified by his career at Dulwich and his experience
of athletics, both influences tending to merge the individual in the
whole and to subordinate self to the side. Death he had never feared,
and he dreaded it less than ever after his experience of campaigning.
His last letter shows with what serenity of mind he faced the ultimate
realities. He greeted the Unseen with a cheer.
His Commanding Officer, in a letter to us after Paul's death, wrote:
"No officer of mine was more popular. He was efficient, very keen, and
a most gallant gentleman. His crew loved him and would follow him
anywhere. He did not know what fear was."
From the crew of his Tank we received a very sympathetic letter which
among other things said:
"We all loved your son. He was the best officer in our company and
never will be replaced by one like him."
A gunner who served in the same Tank company testified his love and
admiration for our son and said that all the men would do anything for
him; even the roughest came under his spell.
A brother officer who served with Paul in the 2nd Cavalry Brigade, in
paying homage to his character, wrote: "He was a most interesting and
lovable companion and friend. He never seemed to think of himself at
all."
Among the many tributes that reached us were several from the masters,
old boys, and present boys at Dulwich College. Several of the writers
express the opinion that Paul Jones would, if he had lived, have done
great things. Mr. Gilkes, late headmaster of Dulwich, in a touching
letter, spoke of the nobility of his character and his high gifts; Mr.
Smith, the present headmaster, testified to his intellectual power,
energy and keenness; Mr. Joerg, master of the Modern Sixth, to his
sense of justice, loyalty and truth; Mr. Hope, master of the Classical
Sixth, to his high conception of duty, "his sterling qualities and
great ability." From the young man who was captain of the school when
Paul was head of the Modern Side came this testimony: "He was one of
the finest characters of my time at school; in me he inspired all the
highest feelings." One of his contemporaries in the Modern Sixth
wrote: "I owe more than I can express to your son's influence over me.
As long as I live I shall never forget him. His spirit is with me
always; for it is to him that I owe my first real insight into life."
A well-known Professor wrote: "I felt sure he was destined to do great
things; but he has done greater things; he has done the greatest
thing of all." Some of these letters are set forth in full in the
Epilogue.
Appended is a list of events in this rich and strenuous, albeit brief
life:
Born at 6 Cloudesdale Road, Balham, May 18th, 1896.
Entered Dulwich College, September, 1908.
Junior Scholarship, Dulwich College, June, 1909.
Senior Scholarship, Dulwich College, June, 1912.
Matriculated, with honours, London University, 1911.
Appointed Prefect at Dulwich, September, 1912.
Secretary and Treasurer of the College Magazine, 1913-14.
Editor of _The Alleynian_, 1914-15.
Head of the Modern Side, 1913-15.
Member of 1st XV, 1912-13, 1913-14, 1914-15.
Hon. Secretary 1st XV, 1913-14.
Captain of Football, 1914-15.
Won a Balliol Scholarship, December, 1914.
Tied for "Victor Ludorum" Shield, March, 1915.
Joined the Army, April, 1915.
Killed in Action, July 31st, 1917.
All that was mortal of Paul Jones is buried at a point west of
Zonnebeke, north-east of Ypres.
PART I
MEMOIR
[Illustration: Paul Jones as an Infant.]
CHAPTER I
CHILDHOOD
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness.
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, Who is our home.
WORDSWORTH: "INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY."
Henry Paul Mainwaring Jones, born in London on May 18, 1896, was the
first child of Henry and Emily Margaret Jones. His grandfather, the
late Thomas Mainwaring, was in his day a leading figure in literary
and political circles in Carmarthenshire. My own people have been
associated with that county for centuries. For our son's christening a
vessel containing water drawn from the Pool of Bethesda was sent to us
by my old friend Sir John Foster Fraser, who in the spring of that
year passed through Palestine on his journey by bicycle round the
world.
At this time I was acting editor of _The Weekly Sun_, a journal then
in high repute. Later, at Mr. T. P. O'Connor's request, I took charge
of his evening newspaper, _The Sun_. After the purchase of _The Sun_
by a Conservative proprietary I severed my connection with it, and in
January, 1897, went to reside in Plymouth, having undertaken the
managing editorship of the _Western Daily Mercury_.
We remained at Plymouth more than seven years. Paul received his early
education at the Hoe Preparatory School in that town. He was a lively
and vigorous child overflowing with health. When he was in his sixth
year we discovered that he was shortsighted--a physical defect
inherited from me. The discovery caused us acute distress. I knew from
personal experience what a handicap and an embarrassment it is to be
afflicted with myopia. Regularly thenceforward his eyes had to be
examined by oculists. For several years, in fact until he was 16, the
myopia increased in degree, but we were comforted by successive
reports of different oculists that though myopic his eyes were very
strong, and that there was not a trace of disease in them, the defect
being solely one of structure which glasses would correct.
To Paul as a boy the habitual wearing of spectacles was at first very
irksome, but in time he adapted himself to them. Even defects have
their compensations. He was naturally rash and daring, and his short
sight undoubtedly acted as a check on an impetuous temperament. He
early gave signs of unusual intelligence. His activity of body was as
remarkable as his quickness of mind. At play and at work, with his
toys as with his books, he displayed the same intensity; he could do
nothing by halves. There never was a merrier boy. His vivacity and
energy and the gaiety of his spirit brightened everybody around him.
When he bounded or raced into a room he seemed to bring with him a
flood of sunshine.
From his childhood he gave evidences of an unselfish nature and a
desire to avoid giving trouble. He had his share of childish ailments,
but always made light of them and bore discomfort with a sunny
cheerfulness; his invariable reply, if he were ill and one asked how
he fared, was "Much better; I'm all right, thanks." Marked traits in
him as a small boy were truthfulness, generosity and sensitiveness. In
a varied experience of the world I have never met anyone in whom love
of truth was more deeply ingrained. On one occasion in his twelfth
year, when he was wrestling with an arithmetical problem--the only
branch of learning that ever gave him trouble was mathematics--and I
offered to help in its solution, he rejected my proffered aid with the
indignant remark: "Dad, how could I hand this prep. in as my own if
you had helped me to do it?" His generosity of spirit was displayed in
his eagerness to share his toys and books with other children; his
sensitiveness by his acute self-reproaches if he had been unkind to
anyone or had caused pain to his mother or his nurse.
Plymouth is a fine old city, beautifully situated and steeped in
historic memories. Our home was in Carlisle Avenue, just off the Hoe,
and on that spacious front Paul spent many happy hours as a small boy.
His young eyes gazed with fascination on the warships passing in and
out of Plymouth Sound, on the great passenger steamers lying at anchor
inside the Breakwater, or steaming up or down the Channel; on the
fishing fleet, with its brown sails, setting out to reap the harvest
of the sea; and when daylight faded in the short winter days he would
watch the Eddystone light--that diamond set in the forehead of
England--flashing its warning and greeting to "those who go down to
the sea in ships and do business in great waters." Always from the Hoe
there is something to captivate the eye--the wonder and beauty of the
unresting ocean; on the Cornish side the wooded slopes and green sward
of Mount Edgcumbe; on the Devon side Staddon Height, rising bold and
sheer from the water; looking landward the picturesque mass of houses,
towers, spires, turrets that is Plymouth, and far behind the outline
of the Dartmoor Hills. On the Hoe itself one's historic memories are
stirred by the Armada memorial and the Drake statue; close at hand
is the Citadel, the snout of guns showing through its embrasures; and
near by is Sutton Pool, whence the Pilgrim Fathers set forth in the
little _Mayflower_, carrying the English language and the principles
of civil and religious liberty across the stormy Atlantic.
All these sights and scenes and historical associations had their
influence on a bright and ardent boy in these impressionable years. He
soon got to be keenly interested in the Navy, amassed a surprising
amount of information about the types, engine strength and gun-power
of the principal warships, and found delight in making models of
cruisers and torpedo-boats. The Army in those days made no appeal to
him, though he was familiar with military sights and sounds--the
ceremonious displays that take place from time to time in a garrison
town, bugles blowing, the crunch of feet on the gravel in the barrack
square, and the tramp, tramp of marching men. It was to the Navy that
his heart went out. The natural set of his mind to the Navy was
encouraged by the accident that his first school prize was Southey's
"Life of Nelson"--a book that inspired him with hero-worship for the
illustrious admiral.
[Illustration: Paul in his 6th Year.]
On Saturday afternoons, whenever weather permitted, it was my custom
to roam with Paul over the pleasant environs of Plymouth. We would
visit Plympton or Plym Bridge, Roborough Down or Ivybridge, Tavistock
or Princetown, for a tramp on Dartmoor. Or we would go by water to
Newton, Yealmpton, Salcombe, or Calstock, or cross by the ferry to
Mount Edgcumbe for Penlee Point, with its marvellous seaward view. He
was an excellent walker and a most delightful little companion, keenly
interested in all he saw, and absorbing eagerly the beauty of earth
and sea and sky. No wonder he had happy memories of the West country
and that his mind retained clear images of Plymouth, the sea, and
gracious, beautiful Devon!
In the summer of 1904 I returned to London, having accepted an
appointment on the editorial staff of the _Daily Chronicle_. Paul, who
had left his first school with high commendation, was entered in
September at Brightlands Preparatory School, Dulwich Common. There he
remained four years, during which he made rapid strides in knowledge.
His first report said: "Is very keen and has brains above the average;
conduct and work excellent; extremely quick and a splendid worker.
Doing very well in Classics, and making marvellous progress in
French." From later reports the following expressions are taken: "Keen
in the extreme, and a hard worker; a marvellously retentive memory."
"His work has been superlatively good; conduct excellent; drawing
poor; written work marred by blots and smudges." "Developing very
much; thoroughly deserves his prizes; his work is neater; composition
and geography excellent; and even in mathematics no boy has improved
more; now plays very keenly in games." "He is making splendid progress
with his Greek; gets flustered in Mathematics when difficulties
appear." Paul won numerous prizes at Brightlands for Classics,
English, French, General Knowledge, Reading, Athletics, and was almost
invariably top of his form. He left the Preparatory School after the
summer term, 1908.