The place is Cardiff, Wales and the date, the 8th of September 1916. Nineteen-year-old Cecil Yard has just been assessed as medically fit for military service and has signed up to fight for King and Country for the ‘duration of the War’. Sadly, Cecil’s War will end just over 6 months before the Armistice when he will be officially discharged from the Army while in a London hospital. He will survive long enough to live in a world where on 11 November 1918 peace is declared but whether this good news reaches him on his death bed in St Michael, Barbados we cannot know for he dies only 2 days later. This is the story of how Cecil went from a recruiting centre in Cardiff to a War Grave in his homeland of Barbados.
What do we know of Cecil on this September day? His attestation form gives his marital status as single and his occupation as ship’s steward. His next of kin is his father, William Yard, who lives “near Lear’s” – presumably Lear’s Gap – in Bibby’s Lane, St Michael. He is 5 feet 6 and a half inches tall and weighs a healthy 147lbs.
His answer to Question 7 of the form is puzzling though. Very unusually, he states that he has previously served in another branch of His Majesty’s Forces. Despite written instructions to do so, the section asking for details of this previous experience remains blank.
Cecil certainly wouldn’t be the only young Bajan to leave Bridgetown for a life as a merchant seaman and many West Indian and African seamen did end up in the port of Cardiff but it was still relatively rare for a Black person to enlist in the British Army whilst in Britain.
At the beginning of the War, the inhabitants of the West Indies were as eager as any other British patriots to serve their country. However, the British Government most certainly did not want Black soldiers fighting in Europe. Many, often spurious reasons, were advanced to defend this position such as the Black man’s alleged inability to cope with the European climate. The truth was that the Government was loath to allow Black people to see white people toiling in the War as it would undermine the white man’s prestige. Nor did they want Black soldiers learning how to use weapons which might later be used against colonists when peace returned. In short, as David Olusoga sums up in ‘Black and British – A Forgotten History,’ “black men were not to be permitted to kill white men.”
In the late spring of 1915 and under pressure from King George V, Lord Kitchener the Secretary for War, eventually relented and agreed to the creation of the British West Indies Regiment (BWIR). This meant that West Indian recruits could enlist with the BWIR and fight in Europe, the middle east and Africa, mainly in mundane but important roles supporting predominantly white soldiers on the front line. Over 15,000 young West Indians enlisted, 185 of whom were killed in action, a further 1,071 died of sickness.
But Cecil wasn’t joining the BWIR. He was enlisting in Wales and was allocated to the Coloured Section of the Inland Water Transport Section of the Royal Engineers as a Sapper. His service number was 199705.
He may have been attracted by adverts such as the one shown below from the Western Daily Press of 2 June 1916.
ROYAL ENGINEERS. INLAND WATER TRANSPORT SECTION.
Lieut CM. MANNERS will be at the COLSTON HALL THIS DAY (FRIDAY), from 2 to 6 p.m., to interview likely recruits. Men up to 50 years of age, under certain conditions, can be enlisted.
MEN SPECIALLY WANTED — Able Seamen. Canal Watermen, Lightermen, Marine Engineers, Tugmasters, &c.
MEN WANTED FOR THE ROYAL ENGINEERS!
A Few Men of each of the following Trades CARPENTERS and JOINERS. BLACKSMITHS, LIMELIGHT OPERATORS, WHEELWRIGHTS, and MASONS. Apply Headquarters, 32, Park Row.
Pay was ‘generous’ with Sappers such as Cecil earning 3 shillings and 2 pence a day (less than 20p in decimal currency) and Company Sergeant Majors, 5 shillings and 9 pence a day. Seven day’s pay was ‘promised for each week’.
The Army was desperate to recruit into these posts as transporting troops and goods by waterways was essential to the War effort. Transport by road, rail or air was impractical given the remoteness of some of the theatres of war. Mesopotamia, for example, is over 6,200 miles from England.
Cecil, as a seaman, appeared ideally suited for the Inland Water Transport Section and he was duly posted to that Section in Mesopotamia, sailing from England on 12 October 1916.
Control of river transport in Mesopotamia had transferred from the Royal Indian Marine to Inland Water Transport Section in September 1916 shortly before Cecil’s arrival there.
Mesopotamia was an ancient land that now includes parts of Turkey, Syria, Iraq and Iran. It was of massive strategic importance in the War as it was situated between two major rivers, the Euphrates and the Tigris. It follows that because the rivers were so vital, the role of the Inland Water Transport Section was also crucial.
To defeat the Turks in Mesopotamia, the British needed to increase the size of their fleet, initially on the Tigris, but later also on the Euphrates. Ships were built as quickly as humanly possible and towed out or shipped to Bombay or Basra for reassembly.
Conditions on the rivers were difficult, both were shallow, with sandbanks, so the risk of running aground was great. Barges full of equipment and troops had to be towed up the rivers often against strong currents. In the Narrows, a 15 mile stretch of the Tigris, the average width of the river is only 300 feet meaning there was space for only one ship at a time. The depth of that stretch of river never exceeds 7 feet making the journey slow and potentially perilous.
This extract from the Dictionary of Occupational Titles summarises the work of the Inland Water Transport Section. Cecil would have been involved in some of these activities.
The dockyards branch fitted out vessels arriving from overseas and carried out the repair and maintenance work called for by the marine engineering branch. The main yards were at or near Basra, but there were subsidiary yards and floating repair shops at the principal Inland Water Transport depots inland. The buoyage and pilotage branch was responsible for facilitating navigation by making fluvial surveys, compiling of sailing directions, marking channels by buoys and beacons, providing pilots, salving sunken craft and refloating stranded craft. This branch undertook minor dredging work, and during the low-water season employed the process known in India as ” bandalling,” by which temporary training walls of matting fixed on bamboos are constructed to divert water into the particular channel which it is desired to deepen by scour. Reaches particularly subject to shifting silt banks were examined daily, the channels re-marked when necessary, and the available depth of water notified to the loading points. The work of the construction branch was very extensive, including the construction of wharves, jetties, dockyards, workshops, fuel depots, camps, etc., with a great variety of incidental works, such as pumping stations, power houses, pipe lines and a score of bridges, including the bridge at Amara and the Maude bridge at Bagdad [sic]. The conservancy and reclamation branch was responsible for heavy engineering work for the improvement of navigation and for the reclamation of low-lying areas at Basra to provide sites above flood-level for camps and depots; for about a year it was also responsible for irrigation. On the Tigris by means of dams and spurs the depth of water at the Narrows was increased, some dredging was done, and bunds breached by the Turks were repaired.
The Indian Railways Fan Club website, under an article entitled From Scotland to Mesopotamia shows that the Inland Water Transport Section in Mesopotamia eventually comprised 1,634 vessels and almost 50,000 men, many of them Black, from units such as the Nigerian Marine, Mauritius Labour Battalion, Egyptian Labour Corps and, Cecil’s unit, the ‘Coloured Section’ of the Royal Engineers.
The Inland Water Transport Section went on to play a major part in the vitally important capture of Baghdad on 11 March 1917. It is quite possible Cecil would have spent some time in Baghdad.
But conditions in the Middle East were appalling. Temperatures of 120 degrees Fahrenheit were common, there was regular flooding and flies, mosquitoes and vermin were everywhere. Disease was rife and easily spread. No one, no matter what rank, was safe. Lieutenant General Sir Frederick Stanley Maude who led the conquest of Baghdad died of cholera on 18 November 1917. He is buried in Baghdad (North Gate) War Cemetery. One must assume Maude’s death was sudden or untreatable because, had hospital treatment been appropriate, he would have been transported by ship to the nearest hospital which was 2 weeks journey away in India.
In September 1917 Cecil became suddenly ill, complaining of breathing difficulties. His condition didn’t respond to treatment and after 4 or 5 weeks, his illness was confirmed as Pulmonary Tuberculosis (TB). Unable to work any longer he was transported on His Majesty’s Hospital Ship Nevasa to Colaba War Hospital in Bombay (now Mumbai), India for assessment and treatment.
The Nevasa was a relatively new ship having been launched in December 1912. It had been built for the British India Steam Company but requisitioned, first as a troopship in August 1914, then as a 660-bed hospital ship in January 1915. The majority of Cecil’s fellow patients will likely have been members of the British Indian Army. The Mesopotamian campaign was dominated by Indian troops but they suffered huge losses. Indeed, during the course of the War, a total of over 74,000 Indian soldiers perished.
Cecil was admitted to Colaba War Hospital on 10 November 1917. He was a long way from home. It is quite likely he was the only West Indian in the 550-bed hospital. Most of the patients would be white soldiers from British garrisons in India. There were around 35 nurses, most of them from Australia.
It is clear that Cecil’s condition did not improve and on 27 December 1917 he was examined by a Medical Board in the hospital. Given the vagaries of dates of birth in those days his age was given as 27 which is quite a leap considering he enlisted at age 19 only 14 months earlier. There is no doubt we are dealing with the very same Cecil though.
Cecil explained to the medical assessors that he first suffered from a sore throat and breathing difficulties in September 1917 while in Mesopotamia. He added that he’d never had these symptoms before. Treatment in Mesopotamia and Colaba hadn’t improved the condition which had been diagnosed as TB. The medical officer was in no doubt that Cecil was suffering from TB finding serious lung problems and TB bacilli in his sputum. He unhesitatingly assessed Cecil as unfit for further service. His disability was assessed as 100% attributable to his service and not at all caused by “Intemperance” or “Misconduct.” Naturally, there was no prospect of recovery and Cecil learned formally, although he must already have suspected, that his condition was permanent. The most damning entry on the medical form is the answer “Totally” to the question “To what extent is his capacity for earning a full livelihood in the general labour market lessened at present?”
(Extract from Cecil’s medical board at Colaba Hospital)
Cecil was alone, thousands of miles from home – whether home be Cardiff or Bibby’s Lane – and he had no prospect of returning to sea or undertaking any further paid employment. One can only try to imagine his anguish and in his heart of hearts he probably knew the chances of an early death were high.
The next step was to get Cecil back to England. It was a long and probably torturous process. The first leg of Cecil’s journey took him to Cape Town. Here he was admitted to the Number 7 General Hospital in Woodstock.
It is probable that this hospital was situated in Cape Town’s District Six. The historical importance of District Six is that it was once an ethnically diverse area where different races, nationalities and religions lived in harmony. This became unacceptable to the Apartheid regime which believed in strict segregation of races. On 11 February 1966 District Six was declared a ‘White’ area under the Group Areas Act 1950 and the authorities subsequently and violently relocated non-whites to Black or Coloured outlying areas. Between 1966 and 1977 over 60,000 non-white people were moved out of District Six and their homes bulldozed.
A museum has subsequently been created at District Six to help remember the community and warn against the perils of Apartheid.
Cecil was in Woodstock Hospital from 21 January 1918 until 19 March 1918. His medical notes on discharge say he had improved since admission but the TB in his lungs was still at an active stage. Incidentally, at this point his recorded age had reduced from 27 to 26.
On 19 March 1918 Cecil left Cape Town for England on His Majesty’s Hospital Ship Gascon. The Belfast-built Gascon was requisitioned by the British Forces from the Union-Castle Fleet in November 1914. The Gascon was built in 1887 and could hold 434 patients.
However, on 25 April 1915 it carried 557 wounded troops from the Anzac landings. The landings involved British Empire Forces, mainly from Australia and New Zealand, making an amphibious attack on the Gallipoli Peninsula. A series of errors made the already difficult landing close to disastrous but there was great bravery shown by the troops. It is believed over 2,000 allied soldiers were killed.
25 April is commemorated each year as Anzac Day in Australia and New Zealand commemorating all those who have died in all wars, conflicts and peacekeeping operations.
The medical crew of the Gascon was largely made up of Indian Medical Service medical officers, a Royal Army Medical Corps matron, Australian nursing sisters, Royal Army Medical Corps and Indian Medical Service orderlies.
On arrival in England Cecil was admitted to the First London General Hospital, St Gabriel’s College, Myatt’s Park, Camberwell, London. At this stage, he had been continuously in hospital for 6 months.
The Hospital, which no longer exists, was based in what used to be a college of education but as all the young men had gone to War it had become vacant. Many buildings of this type were converted to hospitals during the War.
Improvements were gradually made to the living conditions and the Lost Hospitals of London website tells us that huts, accommodating a further 520 patients were built in Myatt’s Field in December 1915.
By the time Cecil arrived, the Hospital could house 231 beds for officers and 1,038 for other ranks.
King George V and Queen Mary visited the Hospital in April 1918. Cecil was most certainly a patient at that time and he would have stood out as one of the few, if not the only, Black person in the Hospital. We may never know if he saw or even spoke to the Royal couple but it isn’t beyond the realms of possibility that the King may have taken time to talk to Cecil. Remember King George V had been a keen advocate of allowing Black soldiers to fight in the War and was central to the creation of the BWIR.
On 30 April 1918 Cecil was examined by a Medical Board at the First London General Hospital, Myatt’s Park, where he was finally discharged as “no longer physically fit for War Service”. He was clearly intending to return to Cardiff as he gave his address on discharge as 43, Loudoun Street, Cardiff. Loudoun Street was in the docks area of Cardiff, more commonly known as Tiger Bay. Immigrants were common here with large communities of Somalis, Yemenis and Greeks being present even before World War 1. They tended to work in the docks and associated industries. It makes complete sense that Cecil as an immigrant seaman should reside there.
Ordinarily a soldier discharged after appearing before the Medical Board would be given £1 advance and a ‘suit of plain clothes’ but Cecil was too ill to return to Cardiff. He remained at Myatt’s Field until he could be admitted to a sanatorium.
Cecil was additionally assessed as “Permanently excluded from liability to medical re-examination under the Military Service (Review of Exceptions) Act 1917”. The reason for this Act was the previous practice of re-examining potential recruits or discharged service men with almost total disregard for the nature or severity of their disability.
In a debate in the House of Commons on 21 June 1917, William Pringle the Liberal MP for North West Lanarkshire articulated the ridiculous situation:
“In nearly every area in the country they have sent out notices for re-examination not only to men who have obtained fraudulent rejection, not only to men who in the past have been carelessly examined, not only to men whom they may have reason to believe have improved in health; they have called upon the halt, the lame, the blind, the mute, the mad, aye, and even the dead, to appear before these examining boards. A friend of mine who has the misfortune to be in one of these classes was called upon to present himself at Richmond Recruiting Office on 16th May at twelve o’clock. He found that on that day 200 other men had been asked to present themselves at the same hour, and they were the most miscellaneous assortment of wrecks of humanity that could possibly have been got together.
There were cripples and hunchbacks, men with curvature of the spine, men who were blind, and men who were suffering from every manner of ailment that can afflict frail humanity. They were marshalled up as if they were a company of convicts; they were sworn at and bullied by the recruiting officer, a man who had never been out of the country. Then they were marched up to Kingston Barracks, and many of them were kept there for eight hours, without either food or drink to refresh them.”
Incredibly even after the Act was introduced it still did not automatically exclude those suffering from TB. Sir Ian Macpherson MP for Ross and Cromarty and Under Secretary of War said in the House of Commons on 25 April 1917;
“Officers who have ceased to hold commissions, and men who have been discharged from the Army on account of tuberculosis, are not expressly excepted from the provisions of the Military Service (Review of Exceptions) Act, 1917. My hon. Friend will realise that the Army does not wish to introduce to its ranks persons suffering from tuberculosis.”
At least common sense prevailed in Cecil’s case, although his chances of living long enough to even become due for a review, were he not exempt, were not good.
On 12 May 1918 one Matthew Nathan, Secretary of the Ministry of Pensions, The Royal Hospital, Chelsea, London notified the Regiment of Cecil’s pension award. He was to receive 27 shillings and 6 pence (just under £1.38 in decimal currency) a week from 22 May 1918. In the fashion of the day Mr Nathan ended his letter as follows: “I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obedient servant.”
(Notification of Cecil’s pension award signed by Matthew Nathan)
However, Mr Nathan was no ordinary ‘obedient servant’ he was in fact Sir Matthew Nathan having been knighted in 1908. His previous roles had included Governor of Hong Kong and, after leaving the Ministry of Pensions in 1919, he went on to become Governor of Queensland in Australia.
Sir Matthew was a fellow Royal Engineer although well before Cecil’s time and at a rather different level. Sir Matthew eventually reached the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.
He joined the Ministry of Pensions under somewhat of a cloud. His previous role had been as Under-Secretary for Ireland and he was made a scapegoat for the Easter Rebellion in that country in 1916.
On 3 May 1916 immediately following the Rebellion he was asked by his superior, the Chief Secretary, Augustine Birrell, to ‘fall on his sword’ and resign, Birrell having done likewise 3 days earlier.
The subsequent Royal Commission on the 1916 Rebellion was heavily critical of Birrell and Nathan believing they should have anticipated the troubles and been more proactive in preventing them.
Cecil now found himself in a London Hospital with a pension which was broadly equivalent to the pay he would have been receiving while serving in the Royal Engineers. But no doubt the pension would reduce once he had been in hospital for a certain length of time on the grounds that he was being maintained by the state.
We then lose track of Cecil from 3 May 1918 when the Registrar at the London General Hospital at Myatt’s Field states he remains in hospital pending admission to a sanatorium until 13 November 1918 when, sadly, we must record his death.
It is inconceivable that he could have died in England or Wales and his body transported to Barbados for burial. The cost would have been prohibitive for even the wealthiest of families. So, we must assume that at some point between May and November 1918 he undertook the arduous 2-week journey by sea to return to Barbados to live out his final days. It is hoped that he gained some comfort and solace by being with his family and friends in the final part of his short life.
We still of course, don’t know Cecil’s age – he could have been anything between 21 and 28 but it doesn’t really matter, his life was over and he was buried in a Commonwealth War Grave at St Matthew Churchyard, St Michael, Bridgetown.
(The last medical record we have for Cecil)
His War service saw him entitled to the Victory Medal, the British War Medal and the Silver War Badge. The latter was awarded to service men who had been honourably discharged due to wounds or sickness. It was to be worn with civilian clothes partly to denote that the wearer was a veteran and avoid public allegations of cowardice or lack of patriotism.
However, it took quite some time after the War for the Victory and British War Medals medals to be despatched to recipients. In Cecil’s case, he had passed away long before the medals were sent. We do not know if he ever received his Silver War Badge.
Kings Regulations 1923 Para 992 (a.) covered the action to be taken to issue medals. If medals were undeliverable, they were sent by Registered Post by the General Post Office. After repeated attempts at delivery and if no notification of a change of address had been given by the recipient to the War Office/Records Offices and/or the General Post Office they were returned to the Record Office concerned and after a period of 10 years, destroyed.
We can’t know how hard the War Office worked to get Cecil’s medals to his home or whether they were delivered to Barbados or Cardiff. Nor can we really understand why records weren’t checked to show that Cecil had died in 1918 but the fact remains that the medals must have been returned and destroyed.
Armed with this knowledge of Cecil I set off for St Matthew Church early one July morning. My google map suggested a distance of around 5.5 kms and a walking time of 1 hour and 12 mins. I’m a fast walker, even in Bajan heat, so expected to take significantly less than the predicted time.
I left Carlisle Bay and headed up Jemmots Lane, then Martindales Road and past the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. There are few, if any, zebra crossings outside of the centre of Bridgetown and crossing roads, especially busy roundabouts can often be a challenge. Fortunately, the vast majority of drivers are very courteous.
One day while waiting for a gap in the traffic in Bridgetown a young man came up and educated me in how to cross the road. “Just walk out” he said, “they’ll stop.” I tried it. So far, he has always been right. Long may that continue.
I then hit Halls Road and another busy roundabout leading onto Harmony Road. I was pretty sure I’d been walking for the requisite 1 hour and 12 minutes but I didn’t feel close to St Matthew Church and I was about to enter Station Hill. It was the ‘hill’ bit that I didn’t really fancy after already walking for quite a while in the hot sun. Fortunately, it wasn’t much of a hill and I got onto Waterford Road. By now I was 100% certain I’d been walking for more than 1 hour 12 minutes. The pavements were becoming narrower and houses and shops were being replaced by countryside. Admitting defeat, I flagged down a passing taxi. My idea was simply to ask him how far I was from St Mathew Church but as ever he was incredibly helpful telling me he was on the way to pick up another passenger but he would get me to the church first.
It still seemed like quite a long journey and cost all of $20 Bajan so I’m glad I didn’t walk.
On the way we passed the Clyde Walcott roundabout. It isn’t too far from the Everton Weekes roundabout. It’s a great idea to name roundabouts after distinguished people. I’m surprised more countries don’t do it.
At the church it took a while to find Cecil as, sadly, his grave was badly overgrown with bushes and weeds. The good news though was that the gardener was cutting grass in the churchyard and at my request he kindly cut away the weeds obscuring Cecil’s grave.
(Tidying up Cecil’s grave)
(That’s better! Cecil’s gravestone after a ‘make-over’)
I did ponder with the idea of walking another 2.5 kms or so up Highway 3A to Bibby’s Lane and Cecil’s old stomping ground but, discretion being the better part of valour, I decided to get a bus back into Bridgetown.
At the bus stop I found a very interesting tree outside the church which I imagine is designed to prevent motorists driving into it. Let’s hope it doesn’t have the opposite effect and distract them.
(A tree outside of St Matthew’s Churchyard)
One mystery I still hadn’t solved was Cecil’s supposed military service prior to joining the Royal Engineers. Could he really have served elsewhere before September 1916 when he may or may not have been only 19 years of age?
When I dug deeper I found that on 22 March 1915 at the Old Town Hall, Belfast, Cecil had enlisted with the Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC). His service number was 54296. He declared his age at that time as 24 years and 3 months which makes me feel he must surely have been older than 19 years of age as he said he was some 15 months later when he signed up for the Royal Engineers. He was single and gave his occupation as a cook, was 5 feet 6 and a half inches tall and weighed 147lbs. His address was 208 Partridge Street, Cardiff.
Quite what Cecil was doing in Belfast we can only guess. One would presume he had docked there while working as a cook on board a ship. Harder to fathom is why he chose to sign-up in Belfast rather than wait until he returned to his home in Cardiff. We do know that the idea of Black soldiers fighting in Europe was still very much frowned upon in 1915 and the BWIR was still over a year away from being formed. Perhaps the Irish were more sympathetic to Black volunteers than the English or Welsh? Events were about to suggest otherwise.
On 24 March 1915 Cecil was sent to Newry about 37 miles from Belfast for training. Less than 4 weeks later, on 14 April 1915, he was discharged under para 392 (iii) (c) of the King’s Regulations as “not likely to become an efficient soldier.”
Cecil had passed a medical examination as ‘fit for service’ on 22 March 1915 when he signed-up for the duration of the War. The medical officer was a Lieutenant with the RAMC and his overall assessment of Cecil’s physical development was “Fair”.
The recruiting officer would also have asked questions and made observations. It is clear that there was nothing visibly or physically wrong with Cecil on 22 March 1915.
What could have happened in the intervening period to make Cecil unsuitable for military service? Occasionally the recruiting officer and medical officer could perhaps miss the less visible incapacities such as mental health or even an unwillingness or inability to follow orders. But this seems unlikely to be the case with Cecil. Health wise he performed strenuous duties with the Royal Engineers for the best part of 12 months up until September 1917. He was not unduly short, nor was he under or overweight. His medical report shows that his vision was a perfect 6/6 in both eyes. He lived independently before and after his short spell in Ireland and had held down posts as a cook and a ship’s steward for several years. There were no recorded disciplinary issues while he was with the Royal Engineers. As can be seen from the advert that appeared in the Western Daily Press the Royal Engineers would only accept applicants who passed an interview. It is difficult not to suggest that the only thing different about Cecil was the colour of his skin.
Was Cecil a victim of racial prejudice?
Cecil’s life could have gone four ways in and after Ireland. Had he remained with the RAMC he may well have become a stretcher bearer. This was one of the most dangerous jobs imaginable. He would expose himself to enemy fire to retrieve injured soldiers or in some cases body parts. All RAMC troops were unarmed and the death rate was high. His chances of survival were not great. But this option was taken out of his hands by an officer who may or may not have been racist.
Alternatively, he could have accepted that he would never make a solider and go back to sea, which was not without its dangers, particularly during war time.
He could have returned home to his family in Bibby’s Lane but possibly no work and no adventure.
He chose to return to Cardiff, let the dust settle, perhaps wait until Black soldiers were better accepted and try once more to enlist. The outcome, ultimately, was his death and a final resting place near his home in Bibby’s Lane, thousands of miles from Cardiff, Mesopotamia and England.