General ‘Boy': The Life of Lieutenant General Sir Frederick Browning

by Richard Mead

  In the case of Second Lieutenant Browning, the nickname was much more apposite. ‘Boy’ could, of course, have originated simply from his initial juniority, but it was also an expression of a side to his character which he was never really to lose. Brian Urquhart, who served under him for three years from 1941, when Boy became forty-five, said later that it was surprisingly accurate: ‘In his dashing appearance, his perfectly harmless vanity, his enthusiasm and hyperactivity there certainly was an element of never having quite grown up.’5

  There are two other possible explanations, although both are conjecture. The first is that it was to distinguish him from his father, another Frederick, who held a temporary commission throughout the Great War. The second is even more tenuous, but equally plausible. An able and popular member of the regiment was the then Major Bertram Sergison-Brooke, who would have been known to many of the officers in the 4th and 5th Battalions and who also bore the longstanding nickname of ‘Boy’. ‘Boy’ Brooke bore some similarity to ‘Boy’ Browning in looks and had the same penetrating gaze, and it is quite possible that the younger man showed other traits of character reminiscent of his superior officer. Whatever its origins, the nickname, initially confined to the regiment, was increasingly used by all others to address him familiarly or to refer to him from afar, whether in the Army or outside. The family and close family friends continued to call him ‘Tommy’, but to the rest of the world he was now ‘Boy’.

  Boy did not have to wait for very long before joining one of the active service battalions. On 13 October he left the barracks at Chelsea for France in charge of a reinforcement draft, reporting for duty at the 2nd Battalion three days later. The battalion had been one of the original units of the BEF, in which it had formed part of 4 Guards Brigade in 2 Division. As such it was drawn into the retreat from Mons, fighting hard before retiring exhausted to a position east of Paris. It then joined the successful counter-attack on the Marne, crossing first that river and then the Aisne in mid-September 1914. Exactly a month later, as the BEF was hurriedly moved to counter the German threat on the left of the Allied line, it was drawn back through Paris and then north to Hazebrouck. With a former Grenadier, the Earl of Cavan, now in command of 4 Guards Brigade, the battalion moved up to Ypres on 20 October.

  The Regular 2nd Battalion perished at Ypres. From 21 October to 19 November it was in action on the front line almost continuously, hanging on desperately to its positions south-west of the town, often against an enemy in greater numbers. Of the twenty-three officers in the battalion at the beginning of the battle, eight were killed and six wounded, whilst the attrition in other ranks was nearly as bad, the total loss amounting to over half the battalion. It was eventually relieved on 19 November and was in no condition to re-enter the line for another month. This, however, marked the end of the German attempt to achieve a major breakthrough in 1914 and the front became static.

  1915 was a difficult but less disastrous year for the 2nd Battalion. Reconstituted largely with drafts from the 3rd Battalion, it participated in May in the Battle of Festubert, an abortive attempt to gain ground further south, in the course of which its original Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Abel-Smith, was killed and his place filled by the second-in-command, George Jeffreys. There were further losses of both officers and men, albeit at nothing like the level experienced at Ypres. In September, with the formation of the Guards Division under Lord Cavan, the battalion was transferred to 1 Guards Brigade, in which it was to remain for the rest of the war. The new division’s first battle came at Loos in September 1915, but the 2nd Battalion only played a minor supporting role.

  By the time Boy arrived in the second half of October 1915, the battalion had settled down to trench warfare in the area of the Hohenzollern Redoubt north of Loos, coming in and out of the line, engaging in patrolling and larger company actions and being subjected to constant shelling, which continued to cause casualties. Not a single officer remained who had gone with the battalion to France in August 1914. The longest serving officer was Jeffreys, who had joined the battalion just after its arrival on the Continent and who would prove to be one of the most successful Grenadier officers of the war. Descended from the brother of the notorious seventeenth-century figure ‘Hanging’ Judge Jeffreys and popularly known as ‘Ma’ (apparently, for some obscure reason, after the Madam of a brothel in Kensington), he was much admired by those under his command. As second-in-command, he had played a key role in the retreat from Mons and the battles on the Marne and the Aisne. He was in many ways a model for the young second lieutenant who had just reported to him, as an officer who was regarded as firm but fair, a stickler for discipline but also an inspiring battlefield commander, a demanding superior officer but one with a dry sense of humour.

  Boy was immediately thrust into the dangerous life of a subaltern on the Western Front, taking command of a platoon of soldiers. A few days after his arrival, the shelling became so intense that it was feared that a major enemy attack was about to be launched, but it never materialized. Shortly afterwards the battalion was withdrawn into billets behind the lines for a brief rest, before returning to take over a line of trenches which were in particularly poor condition, being flooded and with crumbling breastworks and parapets which were far from bullet proof. Considerable work had to be done to put them back into a serviceable state, a miserable task made worse by the very cold weather, with early snow from time to time. On 20 November another new officer arrived, a man who would play an important part in Boy’s career two-and-a-half decades later. Major the Right Honourable Winston Churchill MP joined the battalion on temporary attachment, pending his posting to another unit as commanding officer.

  Churchill was in political eclipse. As First Lord of the Admiralty at the beginning of the war, he had been in a powerful position in Asquith’s cabinet. The Royal Navy, however, had had a poor start with losses at Coronel and in the North Sea, only partially redeemed by successes at the Falklands and the Dogger Bank, whilst the Royal Naval Division failed to hold Antwerp. Events went from bad to very much worse with the fiasco of Gallipoli, where the campaign, a brainchild of Churchill’s, foundered completely, with huge Allied losses both in ships and – more disastrous in human and political terms – in the men of the British and Anzac forces. Churchill’s choice as First Sea Lord, the ageing Jackie Fisher, resigned and the decision by Asquith to invite the Conservatives into a coalition government in May 1915 meant the beginning of the end for Churchill; they were still fuming about his defection from the party in 1904 and named his removal from the Admiralty as the price of their cooperation. Appointed Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, an impotent position, he was compelled to resign six months later by the cabinet’s decision to withdraw from Gallipoli against his wishes.

  Churchill had begun his adult life in the Army, seeing action on the North-West Frontier, in the Sudan and in South Africa, and ever after believed himself to be an expert in military matters. Moreover, he was genuinely anxious to be close to the action. He therefore obtained an undertaking from Sir John French, who was then in command of the BEF, that he would be given a brigade as soon as one became available. Much to his dismay, Asquith barred his promotion to brigadier general, but allowed him to take command of a battalion. It was decided, however, that he would spend time in the trenches with another unit in order to learn as much as possible about conditions and modern military methods before proceeding to his new command. The unit chosen was the 2nd Battalion Grenadier Guards.

  Jeffreys was not pleased. When Churchill reported for duty, he told him very bluntly that he had certainly not asked for him and indeed had not even been consulted on the attachment, leaving the former minister in no doubt as to his feelings. Nevertheless, Jeffreys was a pragmatist and resolved to make the best of it as, to his credit, did Churchill.6 The ex-minister found himself in the same company as Boy, who was detailed to accompany him round the trenches. Churchill had not arrived well equipped and, in particular, lacked a greatcoat, a
vital garment in the bitterly cold weather. Without hesitation, Boy lent him his own and Churchill never forgot the young officer.7 Already forty years old, Churchill was exhausted at the end of his first day and spent the next one in bed, but he quickly recovered his energy and enthusiasm and threw himself into the role, dispelling the initial hostility with which he had been met and gradually gaining the respect of the battalion. By the time he left to take command of the 6th Battalion Royal Scots Fusiliers in January 1916, he and the Grenadiers had developed a mutual admiration.8

  Boy’s career now took what must have seemed at the time like a serious reverse, but in retrospect was almost certainly a blessing in disguise. On 6 January 1916 he was invalided back to England and admitted to hospital. Exactly what he was suffering from is uncertain, although it was not simply ‘me tum’ which, whilst debilitating, never required hospitalization and tended to be over in days, although this may have been an additional symptom. Many years later it was reported to be a combination of trench fever and conjunctivitis, which certainly has the ring of truth. Trench fever was endemic in all the armies of the Great War, accounting for about a quarter of all British troops reporting ill and far outweighing battle casualties. Until close to the end of the war it baffled the medical profession, but it was found in 1918 to be a disease transmitted by a bite from or contact with the excretions of the ubiquitous body louse. The symptoms were high fever, severe headaches, skin rashes, leg pains and (consistent with conjunctivitis) inflamed eyes. Some patients recovered after five to six days, but prolonged hospitalization was common, with relapses being reported in many cases. It was rarely fatal, although it could lead to complications.

  Boy’s malady was less likely to have been that other common complaint of those in battle, shell shock, if only because he had been at the front for a short and relatively uneventful time. The symptoms of this were severe fatigue, irritability, the inability to take decisions and, in some cases, a nervous breakdown. Although recognized even at the time as a genuine illness, it was difficult to distinguish in some cases from malingering. For this reason there was a lack of sympathy among senior officers for the sufferers, who would often find their careers blighted as a result. This certainly did not happen to Boy. Nevertheless, he did fall ill with nervous exhaustion from time to time throughout his life, usually as a result of either overwork or emotional stress, and it is possible that something of this nature contributed to the relatively long period before he was fully fit.

  Boy was in hospital for just under four weeks, which would be quite typical of trench fever, and was then sent on sick leave for a further two months. By mid-April he was judged well enough to undertake light duties and was initially posted to the 5th Reserve Battalion, but two weeks later he was sent on attachment to the Guards Depot at Caterham. Every month he had to attend a medical board at Caxton Hall and for seven months in succession he failed to be passed fit for active service, until on 20 September he at last convinced the doctors that he had completely recovered. Just after the end of the month he returned to France.

  Chapter 4

  Trenches (1916–1918)

  On 6 October Boy reported back for duty at the 2nd Battalion. The first eight months of 1916 had been a relatively quiet time for the battalion, at least by the standards of the Great War, with no involvement in major battles. In February it moved back to the Ypres sector, but at the end of July the Guards Division began its move to the Somme, concentrating there early in the following month. The Somme offensive, which was launched on 1 July and was designed to take the pressure off the French at Verdun, had thus far not achieved any of the objectives of the new Commander-in-Chief of the BEF, Sir Douglas Haig, who had replaced Sir John French in February.

  Although in many ways the Somme was the finest hour of the Guards Division, for the 2nd Battalion it was nearly as disastrous as First Ypres. The division’s attack on Ginchy on 15 September failed to reach its final objective, but only because the failure by the flanking divisions to conform to the line left the Guards unsupported. Ten days later it tried again and this time took Lesboeufs successfully, but the price was very high. The initial attack cost the 2nd Battalion 365 casualties, with three officers killed and nine wounded, the latter including a future Prime Minister, Lieutenant Harold Macmillan. By the end of the subsequent advance the casualties numbered a further 342 with four more officers killed and five wounded. The battalion was withdrawn to recover at Aumont, which is where Boy rejoined it.

  He had been fortunate in his timing for had he remained he would almost certainly have been killed or injured at the Somme. There were only three officers left from those who had been in the battalion at the time he fell sick and a mere six other ranks whom he knew by name. Most importantly there was a new Commanding Officer, as Jeffreys had been given a brigade. Lieutenant Colonel C. R. Champion de Crespigny, known as ‘Crawley’, was out of a different mould to that of his predecessor. He was much more free and easy in his manner, and his interests, other than soldiering, were hunting, shooting and gambling. He was never known to pick up a book. He was every inch a Guards officer in his dress – at a time when the high attrition of officers had led to orders to abandon the Guards’ gold-braided peaked caps in favour of their service dress equivalent, de Crespigny insisted on continuing to wear the former, accompanied at the other end by boots and spurs –and he maintained the strong discipline that Jeffreys had instilled. He had a cheerful disregard, however, for those in authority. Macmillan later told the story of a dictum being received from the brigade to produce a return of the number of rats in the trenches, following questions being asked in Parliament. De Crespigny organized a huge rat hunt, had the victims put into bags and, after a suitable time for them to mature, had them deposited at dead of night outside the brigade HQ!

  The 2nd Battalion did not return to the line until mid-November, after which it was in and out on a regular basis, without any major action being fought. For Boy, there were no repercussions from his absence, but the war now became a time of deep frustration. In the line there was constant danger but little real achievement: out of the line there was only boredom. He now commanded a platoon in Captain ‘Tiny’ Buchanan’s No. 1 Company, and began to develop a reputation among his soldiers as a good officer. The only contemporary recollections of this part of Boy’s life are those of one member of his platoon, Private Frank Whitehouse. Whitehouse recalled Boy during one German attack, like the other officers armed only with a pistol, borrowing a rifle from one of his men and standing on the fire-step, blazing away at the advancing enemy, while the rifle’s owner handed him up clip after clip until his pouches were empty. The attack failed and Boy, his face blackened, handed back the rifle with evident satisfaction and thanks to its owner.

  On another occasion Whitehouse was ordered to take food out to two men occupying a sap ahead of the front-line trench. Not knowing how to get there, he asked for volunteers to show him, but no one came forward. Boy then appeared and, on finding out the situation, said that he would guide the soldier across himself. Just after they got through the wire a flare went up from the German trenches and a machine gun began to traverse towards them. Both men hit the ground, the lid of the food container burst open, and stew poured down Whitehouse. Boy helped him up and asked if he was all right. ‘Sir,’ came the reply ‘except for bits of carrot and onion in the arse of me trousers’, which caused the young officer considerable mirth.

  He developed something of a reputation for the welfare of his men, expressed on one occasion by his insistence that a rum ration should continue to be shared round until it was completely finished, much to the annoyance of the quartermaster sergeant, who had designs on the leftovers. He gave prizes for the best billets and ensured that work was shared out evenly and that those who slacked had to make up time on their more diligent colleagues.

  Whitehouse’s admiration was probably enhanced by Boy almost certainly saving his life. During an advance, the platoon had to leave the end of a sap over grou
nd which was on a forward slope covered by machine gun fire. A newly-joined subaltern, together with his sergeant, ordered a Lewis gun team over the top, where they were immediately killed. A second team was then ordered over, meeting the same fate. Whitehouse’s own team was next in line but refused to go. Just as this happened, Boy arrived on the scene to see what was holding up the advance, listened to Whitehouse’s explanation and immediately accepted it, saving him from the choice of either certain death or a court-martial, followed in all probability by a firing squad. Boy could already understand when to put military common sense before blind obedience to duty. As a postscript, the officer concerned then made Whitehouse’s life generally unpleasant and had him framed on a charge of sleeping on sentry duty, for which the penalty was death. After hearing the flimsy evidence, Boy had the charge dropped.

  Like many other officers, Boy suffered most from boredom. The static nature of the war contributed to this, with the lack of any major offensive from either side in the battalion’s sector resulting in longer periods out of the forward trenches, but little in the way of recreation or entertainment. There were few and all too short periods of leave, some of which Boy spent enjoying the hospitality of the Hennessy family in Paris. The newspapers arrived promptly, there were supplements to rations sent out either from the regiment or the family, and on certain occasions the Quartermaster was able to produce some wine, but life on the whole was drab at best and more often extremely uncomfortable. Boy amused himself by reading, not only books, but also magazines and catalogues – he was particularly keen on those for cars, the more expensive the better – which were sent to him by Grace, as were a gramophone, a selection of records and various luxury foods. He also developed an addiction to cigarettes which was to last a lifetime.