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

by Richard Mead

  The four years at Sandhurst underpinned Boy’s reputation for the next decade or more. Corkran consistently enthused about him, describing him as having a ‘great influence for good’ at the college with the ability to inculcate his own high standards in others. Corkran’s successor, Eric Girdwood went even further in his final report: ‘He is gifted with sound common sense, tact and a pleasing personality which has ensured him the wholehearted support of all ranks at the RMC and gained for him the respect and admiration of every GC who has passed through the college during this period. He possesses powers of organization and administration above the average and by his personal example and the sense of discipline and duty which he instilled into the Staff and GCs has produced a military machine of a very high standard.’ Even the RMC Magazine & Record went so far as to say that ‘when anyone has made a job so peculiarly his own it always seems difficult to imagine anyone else occupying it.’

  Boy’s last duty was to accompany Girdwood and a party of cadets to the French Military Academy at St Cyr in March 1928. One month later he left the Royal Military College to return to his regiment, his career and his life in general seemingly set fair. As it turned out, he was shortly to suffer three serious setbacks, each of which would make an impact on his future life.

  Chapter 7

  Hiatus (1928–1931)

  Initially all continued to go well for Boy. He was posted to the 3rd Battalion, commanded by another outstanding Grenadier officer, Andrew Thorne. The slowness of peacetime promotion can be illustrated by the fact that ‘Bulgy’ Thorne had first commanded the same battalion nearly twelve years earlier in September 1916 and taken it through the closing stages of the Somme, followed by Third Ypres, Cambrai and the Ludendorff Offensive. Just before the end of the Great War he had been given command of a brigade, but had been reduced to his substantive rank after the Armistice. He was to remain a lieutenant colonel until 1931, after which he achieved rapid promotion.

  For Boy the stars were still shining, as he was promoted to major soon after his arrival at the battalion. Shortly afterwards he was sent off for a refresher course at the Small Arms School, where one of his fellow students was Dempsey, returning from there to settle down to regimental duty, initially at Pirbright and then at Aldershot. All was far from well beneath the surface, however, and the first cause of concern was his health.

  Throughout his military career Boy invariably worked at a high tempo, finding it very difficult to give less than everything to the job in hand. For four years at Sandhurst he had held down one of the most demanding jobs in the Army for one of his rank, driven not only by innate enthusiasm, but also by adherence to his own very high standards. When he was off duty, he was devoting similar levels of drive to his sporting interests. The result was that by the end of 1928 he was feeling the effects of exhaustion yet was still unable to compromise in any way in his new role as a company commander.

  During the early months of 1929, Boy was frequently compelled to go off on sick leave for short periods and by that summer it was clear that he was running the risk of a more serious breakdown, possibly exacerbated by events in his private and family life. Thorne was totally sympathetic. In his report in September 1929 he wrote: ‘His 4 years as Adjutant of the RMC has overtaxed his strength and exhausted his nervous energy, with the result that he has no or little reserve to fall back on. He does everything so energetically and has so many interests that it will be necessary for him to have a complete rest before he can get properly fit.’ Sergison-Brooke at 1 Guards Brigade, the immediate parent formation of the battalion, and Lord Henry Seymour, the Lieutenant Colonel commanding the regiment, both agreed, the latter remarking that if Boy repaired his health he would make an excellent commanding officer. He was granted extended leave on the grounds of nervous exhaustion and required to attend a medical board before returning to active duty. It was not until 5 May 1930 that a board at Millbank eventually passed him fit.

  Although it had little impact on his regimental reputation, Boy’s long period of incapacity had one potentially serious adverse effect on his career. In every single annual report since the Great War he had been recommended for the Staff College course and his name had been placed on the Selected List. Passing through Staff College, whether at Camberley or at Quetta in India, was an essential component of the career of every officer with the ambition to progress to the top of the Army. Without the magical letters p.s.c. after his name, an officer could usually expect his promotion ceiling to be set at lieutenant colonel, with command of a battalion being the most senior appointment he might anticipate. Most Staff College graduates, on the other hand, could look forward to new career opportunities, whether on the staff or as field commanders, enhanced by their two years of contact with the best of their peer group and with the members of the directing staff, who were drawn from the most promising officers in the Army.

  Boy had effectively held a staff appointment for four years at Sandhurst and it was almost certainly thought that he should return for a spell of regimental duty before going to Camberley. However, at the beginning of 1930 he was clearly in no state to join the rigorous two year course and although he was pronounced fit later that year and Corkran, now commanding London District, thought he was still a most suitable candidate for the Staff College, he had yet to demonstrate that he had recovered his stamina. By the time he had done so in late 1931 he was over the permitted age for entry. This was a potentially critical blow for Boy and meant that he was likely to see out his career in the regiment, unless he proved to be so outstanding that he was considered fit to command larger formations in due course. Even then his lack of knowledge of staff procedure was likely to count against him.

  In the meantime, there were also problems in his private life. When Boy returned from Sandhurst he was thirty-one years old and still unmarried. He was unquestionably attractive to women and remained so throughout his life. Physically he was good-looking, with strong features accentuated by a rather hooked nose and a penetrating gaze, and he had an athletic figure. He was naturally charming and highly sociable, with a pronounced sense of humour, and off duty he could be very relaxed, indeed he was quite a different person from the explosively-tempered disciplinarian frequently seen by his subordinates. His interests already extended well beyond the Army and sport. He was well read, enjoyed music, theatre and ballet, liked fast cars and was interested in current affairs. He thus had little difficulty in attracting a succession of girlfriends, including Lady Moira Scott (later Combe), with whom he remained friends for the rest of his life, although nothing more serious came of this relationship. Then, sometime in 1928, he met Jan Ricardo.

  Jan was herself the daughter of an army officer, Lieutenant Colonel Wilfred Ricardo. She was dark, glamorous and attractive and Boy fell for her. Their engagement was announced on 25 March 1929, with an accompanying statement that the marriage was to take place at the end of April. The months passed and nothing happened, until a further announcement was made on 26 July that the marriage had been called off. Jan had the reputation of being rather highly-strung, an accusation that was also occasionally levelled at Boy, and it is possible that the relationship was somewhat tempestuous as a result. Whether Boy’s state of health at this time contributed to the breakdown or was partially caused by it cannot be said, but it was probably not helped by the strain. There have been competing stories as to who broke off the engagement. It is possible that Boy, always worried by concerns over money, had reached the conclusion that he could not support a wife at this time on his army pay. On the other hand Denys Browning, Boy’s cousin, said that Boy was ‘rather miserable’ when he came down just after the break-up to stay with his Uncle Bertie’s family, who were on holiday in Wales, which might suggest that it was Jan who took the decision. Either way they parted, although she, or rather the memory of her, would be resurrected in his life in an unexpected way some years later.1

  Another sad event was to take place later in 1929. During the 1920s, Freddie had gone from
strength to strength. In 1926 an opportunity arose to merge Twiss & Brownings with the old established firm of E. Price Hallowes, which had the exclusive agency for Heidsieck & Co.’s ‘Dry Monopole’ champagne and also imported port and wines from Bordeaux and Burgundy. Freddie became the chairman of Twiss & Brownings & Hallowes (later called Twiss, Browning & Hallowes) and the combined firm prospered.2 Whilst retaining the house in Lowndes Street, Freddie took the lease of Flaxley Abbey, a large country house in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire, not far from the home of his distant ancestors at Coaley.3 Nancy moved down there and at weekends Freddie adopted the life of a country gentleman.

  He continued with his packed social life, whether in London or the country, indeed it was said of him that he never dined alone and that he drank both champagne and Cointreau every night of his life. Like Boy, his health began to fail, but in Freddie’s case it turned out to be much more serious, as he was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. He was still fit enough to attend the Lord Mayor’s dinner at the Mansion House for the I Zingari Cricket Club in March 1929, in company with both Boy and his brother Monty, but he went into a decline over the following months. He died on 13 October.

  The funeral took place at Flaxley Parish Church four days later, attended by Boy, Grace, Freddie’s brothers Monty and Bertie and sister Helen, and a small number of close family friends. On the same day a memorial service was held at St George’s, Hanover Square. Nancy, supported by other Browning relatives, was there rather than at the funeral and the church was packed with mourners, who included Rupert D’Oyly Carte, Sam Hoare, Moira Combe and, some three months after the engagement had been called off, Jan Ricardo.

  From a financial perspective, Freddie’s death could not have been more badly timed. Eleven days later the stock market crashed in Wall Street, triggering similar falls over the following months in London and other markets. Freddie’s estate was valued at the pre-crash prices, which were not to be seen again for many years, and Estate Duty levied accordingly at what was by then a ruinous level. From being wealthy, Nancy suddenly found herself in relatively straitened circumstances. Flaxley had to go, as did Lowndes Street. She moved temporarily to the Dower House at Crawley near Winchester, close to Monty’s house, and then to Rousham Old Rectory, near Steeple Aston in Oxfordshire, where she was to live for many years.

  For Boy, who was always concerned about money, it removed any hope of an inheritance and left him entirely dependent on his army pay. It was probably as well, for this reason if no other, that he had not married Jan. The shock of Freddie’s illness and death probably contributed to Boy’s own ill-health and delayed his recovery. Recover he did, nevertheless, and after being passed fit was welcomed back to the battalion, which was now in London. He was too late to take his company through the collective training programme for 1930, but threw himself into other activities, notably the training of the athletics team, with renewed energy. Thorne moved on at the beginning of 1931, to be succeeded by his second-in-command, Lieutenant Colonel W. S. Pilcher, who had commanded the 4th Battalion in heroic circumstances at Hazebrouck during the worst moments of the Hindenburg offensive. By the time Pilcher came to report on him in September 1931, Boy was no longer eligible for Staff College, but his commanding officer recommended that he should attend the Senior Officers School. Lord Gort, now the Lieutenant Colonel commanding the regiment, agreed that Boy would in due course make a good battalion commander, but commented that he should ‘be at pains to consider tactical problems involving the employment of other arms and the administrative difficulties involved in all their aspects before coming to decisions, so as to fit himself in all aspects for command.’

  Now too old to participate at the top level in athletics or winter sports, Boy developed another passion, this time for sailing, which he would retain for the rest of his life. He learnt to sail competently and participated in the Household Brigade Sailing Regatta at Emsworth Harbour in July 1930, coming fifth in the dinghy race, but his strong preference was for motor boats. He decided to buy a 20-foot Simms-built cabin cruiser, powered by a 10-17 horsepower Thornycroft engine, which he moored near Ryde on the Isle of Wight.

  Ygdrasil, familiarly known as ‘Yggy’, was so named after the ash tree which in Norse mythology spread out over and also supported the world. Whilst small, she was, according to Boy ‘an exceptionally staunch little sea boat, although rather quick on her helm in a following sea’. She provided him with a great deal of amusement and some welcome relaxation, mostly pottering up and down the Solent, although he sailed her from London to Chatham and back in the spring of 1931. In September of that year he set out on a much more ambitious voyage and one which was to have momentous consequences.

  Chapter 8

  Daphne (1931–1932)

  Boy’s voyage along the South Coast of England in September 1931 was motivated by his desire to visit Fowey, as a result of a book he had just read. The Loving Spirit had been published earlier that year, the first full-length work of a young novelist, Daphne du Maurier. Perhaps somewhat strangely for a man of action, this particular tale, a neo-Gothic romance about four generations of a seafaring family, stirred Boy’s imagination. He was particularly taken with the description of Plyn, the fictional town in which much of the book is set and which is closely based on Polruan, the small town across the river from Fowey. He was intrigued too by what he had learnt about the 24-year-old author.

  For such a relatively long voyage, Boy needed a crew, and he found one in the person of John Prescott, a close friend from the Grenadiers. Prescott was a fellow officer in the 3rd Battalion, in which he was slightly junior to Boy, having been promoted to major a few months before they set off. He had also been a direct contemporary at Eton. He was an attractive companion, not only because they got on well, but also because Prescott was a West Countryman who knew some of the waters they were to sail. Furthermore, he had a series of aunts living at conveniently spaced intervals along the coast, whose hospitality they hoped to enjoy. It was agreed that Boy would be captain and cook, whilst Prescott would be engineer and navigator.

  ‘Yggy’, towing a tender two-thirds of her own size, which reduced the speed considerably, left Wootten Creek on the Isle of Wight on 17 September and sailed via Mudeford, Poole Harbour and Lyme Regis to Torquay. Neither the aunts nor the engine proved to be entirely reliable, so it was four days before they arrived at their intermediate destination, whence the two men had to break their journey for a return to London, arriving back again late on 29 September. Their attempt to resume the voyage was foiled by the weather, but after two days sheltering in Torbay they set sail for Salcombe and early in the evening of 3 October they rounded the point into the estuary of the River Fowey where they secured a mooring from George Hunkin, the local boatman.

  Their arrival had not gone unnoticed. The author of The Loving Spirit was staying at Ferryside, the du Maurier country home in Bodinnick, next to the Fowey ferry, from where her sister Angela had spotted the two men cruising past slowly in ‘Yggy’ and drawn them to Daphne’s attention. Daphne had been immediately attracted by Boy’s good looks and soon discovered who he was from the gossip in the town. Boy, for his part, made no attempt to introduce himself, but left the boat in Hunkin’s hands for the winter and returned to London.

  It was to be six months before they were to meet, although Boy did return on more than one occasion with his batman,1 Guardsman George Richards, as his crew, before laying the boat up for the winter. In April 1932 he went down to Fowey again to pick up the boat and, hearing that Daphne was convalescing after an operation, asked Mrs Hunkin to take a note to her. ‘Dear Miss du Maurier’ it read, ‘I believe my late father, Freddie Browning, used to know yours, as fellow-members of the Garrick Club. The Hunkins tell me you have had your appendix out and can’t do much rowing yet, so I wondered if you would care to come out in my boat. How about tomorrow afternoon?’2 Daphne, intrigued by what she had learnt of Boy, accepted immediately.

  Daphne du Maurier was b
orn on 13 May 1907 and was thus more than ten years younger than Boy. Her background had a strongly artistic flavour. Her father was the actor and theatre manager, Sir Gerald du Maurier, who was himself the son of George du Maurier, the illustrator, Punch cartoonist and author of Trilby, the book which gave both the eponymous hat and the name Svengali to the English language. Gerald, who was born in 1873, had become an actor not long after leaving Harrow. His career took off as a result of a close association with J. M. Barrie, his role as Ernest Woolley in The Admirable Crichton bringing him to the attention of West End audiences for the first time as a leading man. It was during the first run of this play in 1902 that he met Muriel Beaumont, the daughter of a Cambridge solicitor, who was one of the cast. Gerald fell in love with her instantly and they married in April of the following year.

  Barrie remained a strong influence on Gerald’s career and became a close friend of the family. The five sons of Gerald’s sister, Sylvia Llewellyn-Davies, were the inspiration for Peter Pan3 and when the play was first staged in 1904, Gerald played Captain Hook, possibly the best known and best loved villain in British theatre. Barrie’s original intention was to have Hook played by Dorothea Baird, who had been cast as Mrs Darling, possibly to add some piquancy to Peter’s attitude towards mothers, but Gerald persuaded him to double up the role with that of his own part, Mr Darling, a tradition which has been followed to this day. Gerald had a great enthusiasm for playing strong characters, including the title roles in Raffles and Bulldog Drummond. He also had an outstanding eye for leading ladies such as Gladys Cooper, Gracie Fields and Gertrude Lawrence, and conducted a number of extra-marital liaisons.