Archive Attic: Tales of Courage

This year’s Festival of Courage suggested an opportunity to share some of the tales of courage in the school archive. The wartime school magazines provide many examples of Old Truronians’ bravery, courage and endurance in the face of adversity.

The school magazines from the 1914-1918 War also provides the experiences of Old Truronians in their own words.

Private G. Stratford , “B” Company, 20th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, BEF

France, Nov. 24th

We had a very hot time last night. I was on sentry during the hottest part, and I was not allowed off during the firing step. They sent over eight rifle grenades in three minutes, as well as some trench mortars. I am enclosing a cutting out of the ‘Weekly News’, which I found in the firing line. It has a photograph of St Clement’s Hill, with a tree blown across the road, and the College boys, I see are there. It brought back to me pleasant memories of days gone by – of past football matches, when “George” was our captain – of hot weeks in Cambridge Locals. It all came back to me like a flash. I am trying my best to follow in the footsteps of the Old Boys – Robert Gilpin, Millard etc. It seemed rather strange to think of those things in such a place, with death staring you in the face two feet above your head. They were happy thoughts, and they helped to drive away an aching back and two cold, tired feet. The French I learnt at the College has come in very handy, and I don’t experience much difficulty. I am sorry that Mr Greenfield has gone; I always held him in great esteem. I have last term’s magazine out here, and I am glad to see that everything is going on as usual.

Truro College Magazine, December 1916

FE Gilpin, 2^nd Lt, France

…We have had rather a rough time ourselves of late, and it is rather marvellous that I am alive to-day… my splinter-proof dug-out [was destroyed] by… an 8in. armour piercing shell [dropped] on to the roof, which was only 6 in. deep and made of clay and sheet-iron. I’m pleased to say I was not there when that one fell, although I was in it when a previous shell came five yards away…  we scrambled out after having been rattled like army biscuits in a biscuit tin! The blast of the explosion blew out the candle and threw it with a smack on to my face. The other poor fellow just out from England was scarred terribly, and, as Tito Tregea would say, he was ‘tremblin’’ like a leaf! I was badly frightened myself, but somehow sub-consciously I seemed to have experienced the same incident before, and I ‘sort of’ knew the programme of what was to follow immediately. Shortly after we’d got away the dug-out was destroyed, and the next day we were digging out remnants of clothing and the remains of three pairs of footwear. I rescued several things which had been hurled about in all directions, but I had not much except what I was wearing at the time. … Our battery was mentioned in despatches for the Somme fighting, as we did some jolly good work. Will’s battery is a few miles further up the line, and I am afraid he is in for a rough time. …I am sick of the horrible sights and the awfulness of war. …With all the best wishes for a successful term.

Truro College Magazine, April 1917

Flt Sub-Lt JC Akester, RN, RNAS, POW in Germany

On the morning of the 26th September, the day of the big pushes at Ypres, I set off in a triplane (by myself) to do my little bit, and a very little bit it was, too. The sky was very cloudy, the clouds being about 2,000 feet high. I crossed the lines above the clouds, and coming down below the clouds I found myself rather too far over the lines, for there was a strong west wind blowing above which, of course, was against my getting back to our side quickly. After a little firing with my machine-gun at some German anti-aircraft batteries which did their best to bring me down, four German aeroplanes came down out of the clouds behind me. I turned round and started fighting them. After scrapping around for two or three minutes my machine-gun jammed. I cleared that jamb, when the blessed thing jammed again, and being unable to clear the second jamb I decided to escape if possible. I was under 2,000 feet high, and being five miles over the lines stood very little chance of escaping. The only thing for me to do was to dodge in and out of the clouds, shaking off my pursuers, if possible, and so worm my way back to our side. For almost half-an-hour the chase kept up, and my machine was riddled with bullets, but so far I was untouched. Anti-aircraft guns and machine guns were firing at me from the ground, too. At last I came to a big clear space in the sky through which I must go to reach our lines. The Germans put up a barrage of shells in front of me to prevent me from going straight ahead, but I managed to dodge them for a few minutes. Sometimes they would burst only a few yards in front of me, and one of them took a bit of my right wing away. But dodging anti-aircraft shells and the four aeroplanes, which were about 50 to 100 yards behind me all the time, was a bit too much for me at any rate. Finally I was hit in my left arm, and the bullet passed straight on and pierced my petrol tank. My cockpit was simply alive with bullets, and how I escaped being hit in at least a hundred places, goodness only knows. About two minutes later a bullet struck my engine and my revs dropped considerably, and therefore my speed.

I saw that at last I must come down on the German side of the lines, that which I had worked so hard to avoid. The ground was totally unsuitable for landing, so I ran into a whole heap of telegraph wires at over 100 miles an hour. I thought it would cut up their communications as well as smash up my machine for them. I don’t remember anything after charging those wires until I was picking myself up off the ground (a ploughed field) and finding a crowd of Germans around me. I could not see my machine at all; goodness knows where it had landed. One thing, though, I was sure of, and that was that it must be smashed to atoms. Then I fainted; when I came round again my arm was bandaged, and a German Captain, the Commandant of Menin, was near me – a very nice fellow he was, too.

He took me in his motor-car to his house, and gave me some wine and pears, which he peeled for me. From there he took me to a hospital, where my arm was dressed again. I was then taken in a staff motor-car along with a German officer, who could speak English very well, to another place, where I had tea with some other German officers, and also another RNAS pilot whom I knew at Cranwell and who had been taken prisoner the day before. About 6 o’clock I was put in a Red Cross ambulance along side a number of German wounded en route for a hospital in Coutrai. In four or five hours we arrived at the hospital, and before much longer I was in bed and fast asleep.

Truro College Magazine, April 1918

The Military Cross

2nd Lieutenant John Harold Wellington, East Yorks regt., attached K.O.Y.L.I., was informed on June 24th, 1917, that he had been awarded the above decoration for the following action:

On the 29th May, 1917, near Bullecourt, this officer showed great gallantry and courage. He took out a patrol at 11.30p.m. of 10 other ranks from the Sunken Road west of Bullecourt and reached the German wires. The patrol passed through the wire. When near the trench the enemy commenced to bomb the patrol and fire on them. One of the enemy made off up the trench, blowing a horn and shouting for assistance. Second Lieutenant Wellington led his patrol on and entered the trench, bombing the enemy at the same time and making them scatter. He endeavoured to follow them up, but owing to the wretched condition of the trench and the darkness he was unable to locate them. He then brought his patrol back from the trench to the Sunken Road in safety; both the outward and the inward journey being made under considerable shelling. Throughout the whole operations he showed great coolness and excellent leadership.

Truro College Magazine, July 1917