Looking back, looking forward...

Single Step Tours is now three years old, and a look back over the trips I’ve done with people shows that there is a huge appetite for battlefield tours, and particularly bespoke WW1 battlefield tours. From the Somme tour with 50 inquisitive 14 yr olds to taking two sisters to a cemetery outside Ypres to stand by a graveside on the centenary of the death of a member of their family, all sorts of people are drawn to the Western Front.

People wonder if all this interest will melt away after 2018, but the truth is that the centenary is just part of the picture. The various events give bespoke battlefield tours the oxygen of publicity, of course. The Somme in July 2016 will see the downside of that, potentially, as the little Somme villages are overwhelmed. Iconic points on the First World War map will be holding their own events – Thiepval, La Boisselle to name but two – and these events will be heavily over-subscribed.

 

But beyond all the headline stuff, the desire to travel to the Western Front, to make a 21^st century pilgrimage, is more than just a desire to “be there” a hundred years later. Tens of thousands of people, of course, will be able to make a connection with the 57,000 killed or wounded on the 1^st of July 1916. What’s been clear to me in the last three years is that every family has its own centenary, however. The key date may be linked to a major offensive, but it’s just as likely to be the centenary of the arrival of a random shell in some support trench well behind the front line. It was a war that defied sense in so many ways, but the work of such figures as Edwin Lutyens at least gives families a focal point, an opportunity to make a journey a century later to try to understand what happened. And that focal point could be a grave, but could just as easily be a name inscribed on a wall, many miles away from where their relative fell.

 

The hunger for ww1 tours, and particularly bespoke battlefield tours, has been generated by the advent of the internet. WW1 is just beyond living memory, and as people try to assemble their family trees, the Ancestry links inevitably take them to www.cwgc.org, and a reference to some cemetery in a sleepy French village. A customised tour is the next step, the last piece in the jigsaw. For many people, there is a passing interest in the idea of a mass service at a place like Thiepval, but most would probably prefer one of those quiet evenings, when the crowds have dispersed, and the last of the sun’s rays pick out the names. There, with a view out over the Ancre Valley, people can truly “be there”.

 Peter Jones

www.singlesteptours.com

Chasing the Dragon.

Time to head back to the Somme! A three night trip based in Arras starting tomorrow, 15th September. It's a bespoke tour, following in the footsteps of a Welsh soldier who was killed in the last few weeks of the war as the Allied army chased the retreating Germans across the old 1916 battlefield.

ARTHUR JAQUES



 ARTHUR JAQUES

The figure in the striped blazer in the middle of the front row is Arthur Jaques, a newcomer to the Hampshire side in the two seasons leading up to the Great War. A tall opening bowler, he lived in Bassett, a suburb of Southampton. A hundred years ago, in the late summer of 1915, he was on his way to the catastrophe that became known as The Battle of Loos. He had ended his season, and his cricketing career, with 6 wickets for 55 runs in 23 overs at Dean Park, Bournemouth. Arthur had also just married. By the early autumn of 1914, however, he and his twin brother had signed up.

Having gained commissions in the 12th West Yorkshire Regiment, the Jaques brothers would have undergone training in the Home Counties. The West Yorkshires were part of the 21st Division, which was based near Tring. June 1915 saw them at Halton Park, where they were finally issued with rifles. Soon they were on the move, this time to the camp at Witley. Lord Kitchener inspected them on manoeuvres on 12th August. The losses incurred by the B.E.F. in the failed campaigns of 1915 meant that the 21^st Division was soon sending advance parties over the Channel, and the remainder of the Division left for France from Folkestone on the 7th of September. The different units gathered at a camp near the town of Tilques.

A sense of excitement must have been building by this time, but the worsening weather, allied to a series of taxing forced marches, would have tested that early enthusiasm. The men were marching ten to fifteen miles a night, carrying heavy packs in pouring rain. Exhausted and soaked to the skin, they would be allowed to rest at daybreak, and lay down in the mud by the side of the road. It was up to officers such as Arthur to keep these troops moving and following orders. This would have been no mean feat when the men discovered two days out of Loos that their food supplies had not caught up with them.

One of the great mistakes made at the Battle of Loos was that reserve units such as the 12th Yorkshires were kept too far back from the front. The modest gains of the initial attacks were then lost as German counter attacks wrestled back control of their trenches before Allied reserve units could help to consolidate the ground taken. So it was that the 12th Yorkshires did not get into action until Sunday 27th September. For such inexperienced troops, the sloping ground near Bois Hugo became a killing ground. With most of their officers (including Arthur and Joseph Jaques) dead, the remainder of the men crawled back to their frontline trenches. The 21^st Division had suffered 3800 casualties. No ground was gained. It was the final nail in the coffin for Sir John French, who was sacked as Commander-in-Chief of the B.E.F. shortly afterwards.

According to one report by Major-General Forester-Walker the 12th West Yorkshires did not behave with credit and retired without due cause. When one looks at the shortcomings of the planning and execution of the Battle of Loos, it is easy to see why men such as Forester-Walker were so quick to play the blame game. Inexperienced, exhausted and hungry, Jaques and his men found out exactly what Haig meant when he talked about “unfavourable ground”. For one young officer in the Royal Welsh, it was his first taste of combat. Robert Graves describes Loos as a “bloody balls-up” A hundred years later, looking out from the viewing platform at the Loos Memorial which bears the names of the Jaques brothers, one instinctively trusts the judgement of the junior Royal Welsh officer over the Major-General.

For more on Jaques and other Hampshire cricketers in WW1 see A Torch in Flame

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/1897887493?keywords=A%20Torch%20in%20Flame&qid=1441385336&ref_=sr_1_1&s=books&sr=1-1

What's in a name?

                                         


The inevitable jokes about the Adams family were thankfully out of the way by the time we entered the tiny 14C church at Barton St David, near Glastonbury in Somerset. We had travelled from Heathrow via Sussex and the Cotswolds in the past couple of days, and I had somehow managed to avoid telling them about the surprise that awaited them in the Chancel of this unremarkable little place.
They were aware of their family link to the second President of the US, Henry Adams, but were oblivious to the fact that this little village is immensely proud of the fact that his roots went deep into the Somerset loam. The plaque on the wall, unveiled in the 1920's, is a lasting testament to that link. Now it would be a part of this family's heritage too, a story they will pass on to their kids.
















Out in the tumble down graveyard another story. Not so uplifting. The WW1 grave of an 18yr old of the parish, a Private Bailey, who died a week before the end of the war. The fact that he is buried on home turf would suggest that his wounds meant that he spent his final days with his family, but one dreads to think what mixed feelings that family had to hear the Armistice bells ring out over his grave.

Our overnight port of call was Glastonbury, which was just gearing itself up for the Festival. We took advantage of the bluebird sky evening to walk to the top of its iconic Tor, and enjoyed views as far as the eye could see. William Blake had this scene in mind when writing "Jerusalem", with the visit to Glastonbury of the child Jesus amongst the many legends attached to this unique corner of the country.
"And did those feet in ancient times...?"

Glastonbury ("Avalon"?) is also associated with King Arthur of course, with his grave in the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey. Interesting that the discovery of his bones there co-incided with the aftermath of a disastrous fire, and the equally disastrous financial crisis it caused. Surely claiming to find the grave of the most famous knight of them all couldn't be a tawdry attempt to con some money out of some poor pilgrims?
A sampling of the ales and a pretty impressive fish pie at the Who'd A Thought It Inn (http://www.whodathoughtit.co.uk/) gave us some time to reflect on what had been a busy day. This place manages to embody Glastonbury's stout refusal to conform, right down to the mannequin of the ballet dancer in the phone box.

Staying firmly left field for the next leg of the trip - in search of Dylan Thomas, the legendary hard drinking, free thinking poet born just over a hundred years ago in Swansea. Tragically, he is to poetry what James Dean is to cinema, for Thomas failed to reach the age of forty. His beautiful poem on his thirtieth birthday ("Poem in October") is now the focus for a walk around the village of Laugharne. We stayed in his favourite boozer - Brown's - which dominates the main street down to the fishing boat bobbing sea. http://www.browns-hotel.co.uk/
Bit more upmarket since Dylan's days, but it's highly recommended. Staff are unfailingly helpful, food good, and (thankfully, or Dylan's ghost might be making some noises) the beer very good. Try a Welsh whisky - Penderyn - although perhaps don't follow in the footsteps of the great man and go for any records. Rooms here are well appointed - although the exposed beam in my bathroom was the clear winner in our own personal battle.

The following day took us along the Welsh coast, from south west to north west. Our destination was Portmeirion, near Portmadog. It was here that another left field thinker, the architect Clough Williams-Ellis built his own Italian village on a hill side in Wales. His inspiration was the Mediterranean town of Portofino, but a walk around this place leads many to wonder if that was his sole "influence"...
The hotel here is superb - http://www.portmeirion-village.com/stay/hotel-portmeirion/ - and it is served by two good restaurants on site.

And just down the road, there is Snowdonia. Biased I may be, but it is a truly stunning National Park, with views ranging from lush river valleys to the harsh beauty of the sheep farming uplands. My group wanted an insight into some of Wales' cultural highlights, so I drew on a contrast between the two Thomases. The pin up boy of the south, Dylan, versus the austere priest poet, R.S. Thomas. No doubt (excuse pun...) who they preferred, but perhaps R.S., with his ability to capture this unique landscape of granite and slate, will live longer in the memory.
Our drive to the end of the Lleyn Peninsula (and here I WILL have to admit to home town bias...) ended with a visit to R.S.'s parish church, perched as it is above the beach.

 

Next stop - Ty Newydd Inn next door.  (http://www.gwesty-tynewydd.co.uk/).  A thirst after righteousness? Sorry...
A great watering hole - look out for Cwrw Llyn - and excellent food. Tapas platter was delicious, and great value. Having seen the rooms they've just opened here, all with REAL sea views, I have no doubt the Single Step Tours will be back!

A bit of politics - because the Welsh enjoy nothing better than a fiery speech - we also visited the grave of David Lloyd George. The local boy made good, he was the man who led the country through the second half of the Great War, and dealt with the Irish troubles afterwards. He was also mired in financial and private scandal. No wonder he opted to be buried in such a quiet spot.
Still, his record speaks for itself. He has some claim to be one of our most important political figures of the last century.

If, in the words of the song, Liverpool's got a cathedral to spare, Wales could claim to have a couple of dozen castles. But they'd probably hang on to Caernarfon. There are mixed feelings amongst Welsh Nationalists towards it, in truth, because it was built by Edward I as a massive slap across the face to the troublesome Princes of Gwynedd. As he then tried to negotiate with them, he announced that there would henceforth be a Prince of Wales in the royal household. When the Welsh delegates complained that Edward would just impose his own man on them, Edward replied by saying that his appointee would not be able to speak a word of English.
And he was as good as his word, because his baby son couldn't even say "Dada" yet...
Big ceremony here in 1969, when Charles was crowned - yes, you've guessed it - Prince of Wales. He was just old enough to say "Thank you mama..."

To break the journey back to Heathrow, we stayed for two nights at Stratford Upon Avon, visiting the usual sights associated with Shakespeare, and taking in an epic, and occasionally disturbing, staging of Othello. The lead role was played by Hugh Quarshie, an actor I seem to recall seeing in Romeo and Juliet sometime in the last century. I knew he'd make a name for himself...

Trip was with Peter at Single Step Tours, and it lasted 10 days. Pick up/drop off at Heathrow.

For your own bespoke tour, contact peter@singlesteptours.com

Died on this day, 1917 - Arthur Wolfe

Arthur Wolfe was the Head Boy at King Edward VI School, Southampton. Known as "Snowball" because of his shock of blond hair, he was the school's top academic, as well as a regular in the cricket XI.
He enlisted in 1915, joining the Royal Naval Division, and soon found himself in Gallipoli. Like so many others in that ill fated campaign, he was evacuated with dysentery. He was so ill, in fact, that after what must have been a horrendous sea journey back to England, he did not return to active service until December of 1916.
By this time, the RND had seen action in the Ancre offensive at the end of the Somme campaign, and Wolfe's science teacher at KES, Owen Hobbs, had been killed there in November. He too had enlisted in the RND in the spring of 1915. Wolfe found himself in the Ancre valley too, preparing for the push towards the village of Miraumont. He died in that action, attacking a German strong point. The letter home to his parents states that he was "buried where he fell", but as was common in the Great War, his grave was lost, and his name appears on the Thiepval Memorial.
 He was 20 years old.

His Headmaster back in Southampton, James Fewings, retired towards the end of the war, emotionally wrecked by seeing so many of his charges march off, never to return. The loss of Head Boy Arthur Wolfe hit him particularly hard. He set up a Wolfe Prize for Mathematics (he had turned down a place at Oxford to study Maths to enlist), a prize that the school still awards
every year.