Kick

by Paula Byrne

  Joe was awarded the Navy Cross (the highest honour) and also the Air Medal. In death, he was the hero he had longed to be.

  Kick wanted to be home in Hyannis Port with her family. On 16 August she was granted leave and priority air travel, flying to New York in an army transport plane. From there she took a flight to Boston. Jack, whom she had not seen for two years, met her at the airport. According to the Boston Globe, she was wearing an American Red Cross summer dress in robin’segg blue, and she smiled wearily before she ‘ran into John’s arms and wept’. ‘After a moment, she squared her jaw, faced the crowd and walked resolutely up the ramp, arm in arm with her brother.’30

  Part of the reason for her tears was her shock at seeing her beloved brother so emaciated from his war ordeal. Jack was painfully thin and his skin a yellowish colour from a bout of malaria. That evening the family attended mass together.

  Kick had been the last Kennedy to see Joe alive and she brought great comfort to her family. Furthermore, despite her great sadness over Joe, her own happiness at being married to Billy shone through.

  Some of Kick and Jack’s friends who gathered at the Cape that summer were rather shocked to see the family coping so well in the aftermath of Joe’s death. There were the usual highly competitive games of tennis and touch football and sailing. That was the Kennedy way. Kick put on the same brave front as the others, writing to Frank Waldrop: ‘It’s a great treat to be back in the land of “the free and the brave” – No place like it.’31 Jack and his friends teased her about her title: ‘Excuse, the Marchioness of Hartington is trying to get through,’ one of them joked. The only person unable to cope was Joe Sr. When the young people made too much noise, he reprimanded them, accusing them of lack of respect for their dead brother. But of course they did have respect. Jack began plans for a book in his memory, and Kick wrote that without him ‘there would always be a gap in the Kennedy family circle, but we are far, far luckier than most because there are so many of us . . . I know the one thing Joe would never want is that we should feel sad and gloomy about life without him. Instead he would laugh with that wonderful twinkle shining out of his Irish eyes and say, “Gee, can’t you learn to all get along without me?”’32

  At the end of the summer Kick sent a telegram to Marie Bruce announcing her plans. She asked her friend to find out whether Billy was coming on leave. If he was, she would return at once, but if not, she would stay with her mother till the end of September – the younger children were returning to school and Jack was going back into hospital. Her parents were insisting that Billy should be her priority. She said of her current circumstances that ‘it was still quite sad, but nothing would stop me coming home if Billy has the chance to get back’.33

  45

  Billy the Hero

  I have a permanent lump in my throat and I long for you to be here as it is an experience which few can have and which I would love to share with you.

  Billy to Kick

  He was riding atop an army tank, festooned with garlands of flowers and brightly coloured streamers, as they crept at a snail’s pace into Brussels among the cheering crowd on an early-September evening. Lord Hartington, a major in the Coldstream Guards, just twenty-six years old, a stoical, cool-headed Englishman, was close to tears as he witnessed the ecstatic reception from the thousands of Belgian citizens lining the streets crying and waving. His battalion, the 5th, serving in the Guards Armoured Division, was one of the first units to liberate the city, having travelled 430 miles in six days, with the German army in full retreat.

  They had pressed on through France, liberating town after town, village after village, encountering cheering all the way. Many of the villages had been occupied by the Germans fewer than ten hours before, and the excitement was intense. Some people came out in their nightshirts to wave at the Allies. A soldier, Frank Clarke, writing to his sister, recalled: ‘The French people were glad to see us but the Belgians went mad. Their villages and towns were gaily festooned with flags, Belgian and Allied, and the streets were a mass of colour. Before we had gone many miles, our vehicles were covered with flowers and every time we halted we had fruit and wine showered on us. We looked like flying greengrocer’s shops.’1

  Banners proclaimed ‘Welcome to our Allies’ and ‘Bienvenue aux Libérateurs’, and bands played music in the path of the advancing army. Clarke wrote: ‘From early morning till we arrived [in the capital] I ate, ate, ate cakes and biscuits, fruit and wine. My god how hysterically crazy and excited were these people to see us . . . On and on we drove towards Brussels, the excitement getting more intense every hour. The people were getting frantic! The route was a blaze of colour and my arm fair ached with waving to the excited crowds.’ The tanks and jeeps crawled through the seething masses, and people climbed on to the trucks, kissing the soldiers and crying. As they finally entered the capital, it took the troops three hours to get from the suburbs to the centre, thanks to the crowds. ‘Bands, screams, singing, crying, all these sounds rent the air.’2 Once the tanks had drawn to a halt, the soldiers were hugged and kissed and applauded as their photographs were taken again and again. Soldiers were given babies to kiss, and mothers were weeping tears of joy.

  It was dark by the time they reached the city centre, but lights blazed in cafés and there was a red glow in the sky. The Germans had left their own welcome: they had set fire to the Palace of Justice. But when the Allied tanks arrived there, they discovered that the Germans had stored thousands of bottles of wine and champagne, which had been rescued and brought up into the streets. The party in the main square went on all night.

  The next day, Monday, 4 September 1944, Lord Hartington wrote a beautiful letter to his wife, telling her that the past week had been ‘truly incredible and unforgettable’. Billy, usually so languid and composed, told Kick of his deep emotion: ‘we have advanced and advanced and advanced and the reception we have had makes one want to cry’. He told Kick what a terrible time the people had had and of their loathing for the Huns.

  Billy had been in the vanguard, leading No. 3 Company into the central square of the city. He and his devoted batman Ingles were ‘mobbed’ by the crowd: ‘Ingles was literally carried out of the vehicle and covered with kisses and hugs for nearly half an hour.’ Billy managed to keep control, but soon gave in to the ‘crying and the kissing’. He told Kick with great emotion:

  There is nothing, absolutely nothing in the world that they would not do for us. I would not have believed that the human race could be capable of such emotion and such gratitude and one feels so unworthy of it all, living as I have in reasonable safety and comfort during these years whilst they have been suffering such terrible hardships under the Germans. I have a permanent lump in my throat and I long for you to be here as it is an experience which few can have and which I would love to share with you.3

  This was recompense for the ignominy of Dunkirk. Those long years of war, deprivation, fierce combat, separation from his beloved Kick, were all worth it for this moment. But he wanted to share it with Kick, knowing that she would understand what it meant to him.

  He told her of his fatigue after travelling non-stop for days. He described the ‘exhausted and demoralized’ Germans they met: ‘I cannot believe that they can go on much longer. They come in weary, unshaven and ragged, without weapons and with their boots worn out.’ Most Germans were incredibly young: ‘I’ve seen a lot that can’t be more than 15 years old.’ And yet, he said, ‘one can’t feel sorry for them. They have been guilty of such appalling wickedness.’ The local mob were ready to lynch them. He also told Kick that the French Resistance had been ‘tremendously well-organized’ and helpful with information: ‘they are worth several Divisions to us’.4 He reported that French women who had slept with German soldiers had had their heads shaved in public and been paraded through the streets.

  In the weeks before reaching Brussels, Billy had been involved in heavy fighting in France.5 A week after he left Kick, his battalion landed on Pereira beach i
n Normandy, but he was held back in England with a reinforcement unit. Then on 8 July, he joined the battalion in France, promoted to the role of commander of No. 4 Company, in place of the Major who had been killed in action. He was now Major Hartington. The Coldstream Guards suffered many casualties as they advanced. On 1 August the Battalion Diary recorded a busy day:

  0900 hours

  The Brigade Commander came to Battalion H.Q. and ordered an attack on the enemy holding up No. 3 Company in the ORCHARD at 675585.

  The attack is to be made by No. 1 Company passing through No. 3 Company and supported by a Squadron of tanks.

  Artillery support is not possible as the distance to the objective is only about 400 yards.

  1000 hours

  The attack was put in but after the first 200 yards came under very heavy fire from enemy tanks and was unable to get on.

  Seven of our own tanks were knocked out and both Nos. 1 and 3 Companies had a number of casualties, including the Commanding Officer and Major THORNTON Commanding No. 1 Company, who were both wounded.

  After several unsuccessful attempts to stalk the [enemy] tanks with PIATs [hand-held anti-tank weapons] the Company withdrew back to the Start Line.

  1100 hours

  Major The Marquess of HARTINGTON took over command of the Battalion.6

  For the next few days, until a colonel arrived to take over, Billy was left in command of the entire battalion. As casualties rose and tanks were knocked out, different companies were amalgamated. By 18 August Billy was in command of the merged 2 and 3 Companies. Kick later received a letter from his fellow officer, James Willoughby (Nancy Astor’s son-in-law), describing his courage:

  Billy was magnificent, he never lost his head or his good spirits in spite of the hard time his Battalion was having, no sleep, no food and continual casualties and kept up the spirits of his men the whole time. On the last day we were counterattacked continuously from 6 o’clock in the morning until 10 o’clock at night and Billy’s Battalion had to stand the brunt of the attack. Again he organized the defence in the most cool headed manner, and the position was held in spite of the most determined efforts by the Germans to capture it.7

  Billy was highly regarded by his men. Another fellow officer recalled: ‘I can still see his dismay when told that his company had done enough and must hand over the lead to another.’8

  One of the ways that Billy kept up morale was to observe social niceties. When his men fortified themselves with rum, he would insist that they should drink out of glasses. He always ensured that he looked smart. He carried a small steel mirror in his left breast pocket so he could shave every morning. He insisted on his company carrying a fold-up table and chair. When they set up camp, he would scan the field and announce, ‘Now . . . where is the Company office going to be? Ah, we’ll have it here,’ he would say pointing at a bit of grubby land. His men were devoted to him, and none more so than his batman Ingles. The men loved to hear Billy shout: ‘Ingles! Some watah for my feet!’9

  One of the privileges of his position as a major was that he could wear non-regulation clothing. He chose pale-coloured corduroy trousers and a bright, white Macintosh. He refused to wear a helmet. It was a courageous (or foolhardy) symbolic gesture to show that he wasn’t frightened of being taken down by a sniper. Everyone knew that the Germans targeted officers, easily identified by their clothing.

  One of his platoon commanders recalled that Billy rarely mentioned Kick, keeping his feelings private, except for one rare instance when he disclosed what he felt about the bad press Kick had received about supposedly abandoning her faith and marrying in a registry office.10 But he was thinking about her all the time and writing when he could. On an unusually calm morning in August he wrote a letter that she would always treasure:

  I have been spending a lovely hour on the ground and thinking in a nice vague sleepy way about you & what a lot I’ve got to look forward to if I come through this all right. I feel I may talk about it for the moment as I’m not in danger so I’ll just say that if anything should happen to me I shall be wanting you to try and isolate our life together, to face its finish, and to start a new one as soon as you feel you can. I hope that you will marry again, quite soon – someone good & nice.11

  During other moments of respite, there was a Battalion Sports Meeting on 22 August and a concert the following night in honour of the Liberation of Paris, with the local French as guests. They crossed the Seine at the end of August, then made rapid progress towards Brussels. Back home, the Duchess of Devonshire wrote to Kick in America with the news that their beloved Billy would be ‘out of the line in about a week which is a great comfort’.12

  Billy’s unit moved onward, east from Brussels. After the jubilation of those early days, the mood changed at the end of the week, as the Germans fought back. On 8 September, Billy lost a quarter of his men in attempting to capture the village of Beverlo. During the fierce battle, he showed enormous courage and fortitude, walking across to one of his sections ‘as calmly as if he had been in the garden at Compton Place’.13 He stood on the back of a tank, all 6 foot 4 of him, directing the fire on to the German tanks, ‘All the time, under fire’. A fellow soldier observed: ‘Many of our guardsmen asked me who was the officer from the 5th Battalion, for it was impossible not to be inspired by his presence.’14

  The next day, Billy’s unit set out to capture the German-occupied town of Heppen near Limburg. There was fierce fighting and the British losses were great; six tanks were left behind on the battlefield. No. 3 Company, led by Billy, attacked across an open field, raked by concentrated fire from about fifteen machine guns. Major Hartington stopped his tank near a farmhouse and walked out, leading the infantry forward. He was ‘completely calm and casual, carrying his cap’. Rather languidly he said, ‘Come on you fellows, buck up!’15 He was wearing his white coat and corduroy trousers. He was carrying only a hand grenade and a pair of pliers for cutting barbedwire defences.

  The events of the day were recorded in the Battalion Diary, with the military precision of timings and map co-ordinates:

  1944 September 9

  At 0845 hours the attack was continued and the Battalion attacked HEPPEN 2481.

  Right No. 3 Company with objectives the ROAD & TRACK JUNCTION 249821 and Left No. 2 Company objective ROAD & TRACK JUNCTION 241816.

  During this attack the enemy put in an attack along the line of the Canal bank towards the bridge site, and our F.2 Echelon became involved, but managed to drive them off without difficulty.

  No. 2 Company reached their objective at 0915 hours and reported little opposition.

  No. 3 Company met much greater opposition and were held up for some time, so that No. 2 Company was ordered to clear the village Eastwards, and try and link up with No. 3 Company when they had got their objective.

  The Company Commander Major The Marquess of HARTINGTON was killed during this attack.16

  A more detailed account was provided by an eyewitness. Young Frans Mangelschots was the son of a local farmer. He heard the sound of heavy shooting, and realized that the battle for Heppen had begun. From his hiding place, he witnessed what happened next: ‘Major Cavendish attacked our farmhouse from the rear, and threw a hand grenade through the window, knowing the Germans were inside. (We could see from the ruins afterwards what had happened.) Major Cavendish was hit simultaneously by a bullet.’17 He had made it across the field but had been shot at close range at the very moment when he took out the Germans in the farmhouse with his grenade.

  Some hours later, at three o’clock in the afternoon, the fighting armies having moved on, Frans returned with his father. The place was deserted, with the exception of a couple of neighbours living on the outskirts, who had been permitted to stay, with a sick aunt. They were ‘still hiding, scared to death’. The only living person in the village was the priest, hiding in his church. At the farmhouse, they saw a scene of carnage. In all, they found eleven English and thirty German corpses. The battle had been ferocious.
Frans saw two bodies lying next to one another, men who had strangled each other to death. ‘Some had bayonets in their bodies, some even had spades. It had been a hand-to-hand battle, eye to eye.’18

  It was Frans and his father who found Billy’s body. They could see it was an officer ‘as his uniform was quite different from that of the soldiers’. Frans recalled the bright trousers, the white Macintosh, no beret or helmet. He was lying on his back with his feet against the outside of the kitchen door of the farmhouse: ‘He had a small wound beneath his left arm’ but ‘No blood, nor scar was seen on his face.’19 Lord Hartington had been shot through the heart.

  46

  ‘Life is So Cruel’

  I feel like a small cork that is tossing around.

  Kick Kennedy

  After Labor Day, Kick, Eunice and their parents headed for New York to their respective hotels, Joe to his suite at the Waldorf Towers and Rose to the Plaza with Kick and Eunice, the younger girls being back at school. On 19 September 1944, Kick went shopping alone at Bonwit Teller’s department store on Fifth Avenue. Having being deprived of beautiful clothes in war-torn England, she was looking forward to the day. She was a good shopper.

  Kick was meeting Eunice for lunch, so she was faintly surprised to see her sister on the second floor seeking her out. ‘Before we go, I think we ought to go back and speak to Daddy.’