The Bergh Family Records
Francis Rattray Bergh
Period III
The First World War 1914-1918
- 1914
- England had not been involved in a Continental war
in the living memory of anyone, the aeroplane and the airship
were still in the early stages of their development
and we, in England, had not grasped the idea of the
potentialities of enormous land forces. 'We had the Navy!'
everything would be all right, 'All over by Christmas'
commonplace remarks, but heard and believed by many.
Dad continued at the office, a little worried, perhaps by
the fall of the pound, and Mother began to cope with the
difficulties of feeding a family in war time. Dad was
thirty-eight years old, healthy but not robust, subject to
his migrane attacks and obviously not the type to make a
front line soldier, like all men he was torn with conflicting
emotions, love of Country and love of family. There
was no immediate call to arms of the older men so he
carried on. The war was quickly brought home to him, when
the Police called one evening to see him in a routine check
up of possible enemy subjects, I suppose the name sounded
German, however Dad was quickly able to show them the
family pedigree and papers, and point out that his father,
grandfather, great-grandfather etc. had all been born in
England and how originally the family had come over from
Denmark. They parted the best of friends. Dad was becoming
restless and soon there was a call for Special Constables,
so he answered the call at once thereby following in the
steps of his Grandfather Frederick, who became a Special
Constable in the Chartist Riots. Dad threw himself into
the work with gusto, at least he thought 'I am doing something
for my Country'. His early work was mostly patrol
duty at night and guarding military installations. Mother
attended to his needs with all her customary devotion. I
can remember when Dad had been called out, at night
hurriedly, and had left without his evening meal, Mother
cut some sandwiches and although the air raid warning had
gone, hurried with me towards the Police Station to give
them to him, fortunately we met Dad on his cycle in Duke's
Avenue and I can remember him telling us to hurry home as
'Zepa' had crossed the coast, later that night I saw a 'Zep'
shot down, it fell at Potters Bar. Dad's zeal and enthusiasm
were soon rewarded and he was promoted to Sub-Inspector.
- 1915
- It was then that I think he did an astonishing thing, the
regular police were without first aid instructors and
urgently needed someone to lecture to them, so Dad bought
the St. John's First Aid Book and the British Red Cross
Manual, worked and mastered the subject in a few weeks,
passed his examinations in first aid and became a lecturer
to the Regular Police and the Special Constables, a
remarkable achievement for someone without medical
knowledge.
- 1916
- In 1916 he was presented with a silver headed
malacca walking stick by the Regular Police as a token of
their esteem and thanks, the stick is inscribed:-
- At the beginning of this year H.R.Oldfield had heard
through government circles that a further 'call-up' was
expected and would include men of Dad's age group, he was
now forty years, so he told Dad that he could get him a
commission in the R.A.F. on the legal side, Dad was anxious
to take up this commission, but in view of his commitment
with the Police he consulted Sotland Yard and was told that
his present position in the force exempted him from the
army, he therefore declined H.R.Oldfield's offer. In a few
weeks Dad was called up, there was no exemption for him and
in view of his low category in the health examination 'B 3',
he was sent to a home battalion in the Royal Fusiliers at
Hounslow Barracks. Dad had become a 'Tommy' in the British
Army. The next few months were very trying. Dad found himself
amongst every class of man, road-sweeper, tramp and
men as educated as himself; it was a difficult thing to
re-adapt himself to an entirely new life and Dad found the
ordeal almost more than he could bear. Rough food, rough
ways and most of all no privacy, drilling on a barrack
square to a foul mouthed company Sergeant Major; fatigues,
even weeding the gravel paths to the Officer's Mess using
the fork with which he had to eat his meals! Poor Dad! I saw
him twice at Hounslow Barracks, the first time in his
somewhat ill fitting uniform, in the hut in which he slept,
here, I had some brewed 'char' with Dad and a few
other soldiers, and the second time was under happier
conditions. By some hard 'string-pulling' on the part of
everyone, the authorities had been made aware that there
was a solicitor 'in the ranks', so Dad had been put in the
Orderly Office to do the work of a Regimental Clerk, this
was much more to his liking, an office desk again! He
settled down to make the best of his lot, his childblains,
due to parades in the cold weather, had been severe and
broken on his knuckles, healed, and his general health
improved considerably. It was then that I saw him again
with Uncle Herbert Willis, my mother's brother, he was a
Captain in the R.A.M.C., we went over to Hounslow together,
I shall always remember my father L/Corp. F.R.Bergh jumping
smartly to attention and saluting his brother-in-law
Captain Willis with a twinkle in his eye!
- 1916
- In November of this year Dad was presented with a
Silver Salver by the Special Constables of Chiswick in
recognition of his services. The inscription reads:-
- Dad continued through the winter months serving at
Hounslow, but at last the continued efforts of several
people produced results and he was recommended for a
commission. He was sent to take his Officers Training
Course at Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge. Life became
much more pleasant, hard work, but with congenial company
in pleasant surroundings, dinners in the Hall and the
general 'old world' atmosphere of an ancient university.
- 1917
- He took all his examinations with flying colours and in the
Spring of 1917 was gazetted a 2nd Lieutenant 'officer and
gentleman' at last! After a short tour of duty at Thetford he
crossed over to France in the late Summer. By this time
Mother had decided to let the house in Chiswick and go into
rooms at Worthing taking Rowie and Doris with her, I was now
at boarding school at Paradise House in Stoke Newington and
joined them in the holidays. Mother was beginning to find the
strain of all this telling on her, she had been able to look
after Dad and us children with all the loving care of which
she is capable but the parting with Dad, who was going into
danger was hard to bear, however, Dad wrote Mother a letter
every day he was parted from her and these letters helped to
shorten the time he was away but on occasions she received
no letters for weeks and her mind was torn with anxieties
only to be relieved with the arrival of the postman bearing
a large bunch of overdue letters.
- Dad's duties in France were mostly administrative, he
was sent to a large Munition depot at Abancourt and spent
most of his time there, leaving it on occasions to attend
various Courts Martial in which he sometimes acted for the
defence and on other occasions prosecuted. Whilst he was in
France he suffered a good deal from enemy bombing attacks on
the depot which consisted mostly of ammunition stored in the
open so he was in acute danger most of the time he was there.
On one occasion a train loaded with shells was hit and
several trucks caught fire, a senior officer and Dad uncoupled
the trucks which contained shells, some exploding from
the heat and got them away from the rest of the train. Dad
and his fellow officer were both recommended for the
Military Cross, the award however only went to the other
officer who was his senior. Dad had two 'leaves' whilst in
France. I remember him calling for me at school and taking me
to the theatre in London, we had dinner and stayed the night
at the Charing Cross Hotel, the following day he went back
to France and I to school. On the next occasion I was on
holiday and his leave was spent at Worthing with us all.
During his service in the army his health was excellent
and his migraine attacks became almost non-existent and
he said he had 'never felt better in his life'. In 1918
he reached the rank of Major and became Commanding Officer
of the Depot. That winter was severe and once again he was
troubled with his chillblains. Whilst he was in France he
met his brother Rowie, who was with the 92nd Toronto
Scottish and he had also met him in Chiswick just before
he went overseas, as a joke they exchanged uniforms! We
all had a good laugh at Dad parading round the house in a
Kilt several sizes too large for him!
- 1918
- The war was gradually reaching the climax and Germany
capitulated, the armistice being signed on the 11th
November, 1918. Mother took us all back to Chiswick and
reopened the house in preparation for Dad's return, Dad
was soon demobilized. I can remember his coming home and
on hearing me say 'Hallo' he said
What on earth is the
matter with your voice?
. I was thirtheen and it was beginning
to 'break'. Rowie was then eight years and Doris
six years old. Dad had not changed very much but we
noticed he was a little nervy and jumpy, when a door
slammed, for instance, this was undoubtedly due to bombing
but it gradually left him and he became his usual self
again.
- After a short leave he took up the reins of office
work and once again began the daily treck to the City.
Mother beginning life anew at Chiswick, Rowie and Doris
were going to the school at the end of Ellesmere Road
called The Limes and I left Paradise House School and
returned to Gunnersbury School, Chiswick, to prepare for
the entrance examination into St. Paul's School.
- The war was finished and a further period in Dad's
life had passed, four long years of worry and parting
from the family he so loved, worry in more ways than one,
because, once again, he had felt the 'dead hand' of his
partnership agreement. Throughout the war he had to pay
his salary from the army into the firms account and then
draw out his share which was often less than he had just
paid in. However the war was over and he threw
himself into the job of once again 'making good' in a
troubled post-war world.
Copyright © Anthony Hickson
