by Griff Hosker
I saw tears coursing down my mother’s cheeks. Our Sarah was bright red and clenching her fists. Poor Albert didn’t know where to look. I stood next to my father. My brothers were bigger but if it came to blows then I would stand shoulder to shoulder with dad.
Dad nodded, went to the door and opened it. “There’s the door. Either you apologise and sit at the table or leave and never come back.”
I am not sure if John intended to hit dad or if he just lost his balance but he put his arm out and caught dad on the chin. I just reacted. I was a strong lad and could use my fists and I was sober. I spun John around and then hit him an uppercut. More by luck than anything else, he fell backwards out of the open door.
Tom snarled, “You little toe rag!”
He put his hand on my shoulder. I turned and hit him hard in the solar plexus with my right hand. He was not as fit as he had been; he smoked too much and he was drunk. He doubled up. Our Sarah had had enough too and she put everything she had into a blow to his chin so that he ended up lying on top of his brother.
Mother went to dad, “Are you hurt?”
I could see he was not but he was shocked. “I can’t believe it! They hit me! If I had done that to my dad….”
Mother dabbed her eye, “Well the fact of the matter is you wouldn’t have, nor would Bill or Bert. It’s that town that’s done it. I don’t recognise them!”
Kathleen and Alice had been shocked too and they now went and filled two pails with cold water, throwing the contents on the two brothers. They spluttered and looked up at them. The girls put down their pails and picked up a pan and a rolling pin from the kitchen cupboard. Our Alice had a sharp tongue on her. “And if you try anything again I have a rolling pin and our Kath has a frying pan. Now clear off. You aren’t my brothers anymore.”
They both staggered to their feet and glowered belligerently at the girls but when they saw the weapons in their hands then discretion took over and they both stormed off. John turned and roared, “You can keep your poxy goose too. If I ever catch you on your own our Bill, I’ll give you the hiding of your life.”
I was not worried about John now. I had stood up to him and won. I just shook my head and turned back into the cottage. As the door closed it was like the end of a way of life. My parents were never the same after that. The five children who remained became closer and John and Tom were like strangers to us.
I don’t think either of them intended to cause such distress and to ruin Christmas Day and I cursed the fact that I had triggered the conflict, well my uniform had. I didn’t realise until that moment the power it had.
That was not the end of it, of course. Fate has a way of throwing you into situations you could not possibly imagine. The regiment was called up in March of the next year and ordered to ride to Manchester where workers were rioting. Major Harrison was in command and he made sure that none of us had live ammunition in our guns. He was a teacher, normally, and most of the men called him ‘Uncle’, affectionately. His calm demeanour was matched with an iron discipline. Most of the troopers, me included, had been in his class when we had been schoolboys. He did not have to work at discipline, he had it naturally. He addressed us before we left.
“Men, we will need great self control today. These rioters will try to intimidate you. Do not let them. You have live ammunition in your bandoliers but I do not want us to use it. Today we will use our horses to control them. These workers are misguided that is all.”
I rode next to Sergeant Armstrong and just behind Lieutenant Burscough. The veteran turned to me. “The Major might be right, son, but be under no illusions, there will be some nasty pieces of work out there. They might try to hurt your horse so watch out.”
I was appalled. I was happy enough for me to be hurt but not Caesar. If anyone tried they would have me to deal with.
The streets leading to the square where the rally was being held was congested. As we rode along I could see policemen, some of them bleeding and hurt, being carried away on stretchers. Eventually we came to a thin line of blue and the Chief Constable, in all his finery, was there. He had a very serious look on his face.
“Ah Major, thank God you have arrived! They have been throwing bottles at my chaps. Perhaps your guns can sort them out.”
I was close enough to hear the conversation. “No sir. My men will not fire.”
“But I have read the Riot Act!” He seemed to think that the simple reading of a document would allow us to shoot on our fellow men.
“Well sir, what would you like us to do?” The policeman looked confused. Major Harrison was used to explaining things to boys and he sighed. “What will make the situation calm sir?”
“I need those workers moving out of the square and for them to go home.”
That seemed to satisfy the major. “Thank you sir, now leave it to us.” He turned to Lieutenant Burscough, “I want us to make an arrow behind me. You and the sergeant and then three more and so on. Just follow me and have the men keep their hands to themselves. We do not want to provoke them. We will use the horses to force them from the square. When I give the command we spread out in a single line.”
Although the order had been given to the lieutenant it was the sergeant who organised it. I found myself behind the lieutenant with Doddy Brown next to me and, on his other side his brother Tiny. They were both farm workers from the estate and so big they made me look small. All three of us had the biggest horses in the regiment and I could see why the sergeant had placed us where he had. He wanted us to frighten the rioters.
When we were in position he said, “Move slowly forward and wait for me to signal halt. Forward!”
We moved towards the mass of humanity. They had been drinking and there were crudely drawn placards. They had the same sentiments as those espoused by my brothers. When we were thirty yards from them he held up his hand and every rider stopped instantly. I had to admit it was impressive.
The major used the voice which could still a school yard full of boisterous children and it worked on the rioters too. “Gentlemen, you have all been read the Riot Act and asked to disperse. I ask you to comply with these instructions.”
One large rioter stepped forwards. I saw he had a cudgel in his hand. “Or what, soldier boy?”
I could hear the smile in his voice as the teacher said calmly, “Or we shall move forwards and shift you,” he paused, “forcibly.” I saw him nudge his horse forward and he leaned down to speak with the man. I was still close enough to hear his words. “And if anyone offers us violence then, I have to say, that my men are not policemen, they are soldiers and unlike the police, we are armed.” He sat upright in the saddle and said loud enough for all to hear, “However that is your choice and your decision.” He turned and waved his right arm, “Lancashire Yeomanry, forward.”
Once again I felt pride in the regiment as we moved as one man. The crowd watched on in eager anticipation. They had dealt with the police; they thought all men in uniform were the same. The police weren’t soldiers. They didn’t have the discipline we had nor, I suspect, the courage. The mob began to move towards us.
I heard Sergeant Armstrong mutter, “They need a little persuasion sir!”
Major Harrison glanced around and nodded. “Regiment, draw sabres!”
The sound of three hundred sabres all being drawn at once is a very menacing sound. There is a hiss which chills the bones. As the shiny weapons were all held with the tip on each trooper’s shoulder the sun suddenly flashed on them. It was a magical moment. I was close enough to the rioters to see fear in their eyes. The belligerent man with the placard was next to Sergeant Armstrong who leaned down again. Caesar was almost next to his mount and I heard every word and saw each reaction from the rioters.
“Now then, sonny boy, if you want to use your cudgel, here’s your chance. But remember this my sword is sharp enough to shave with and I guarantee that if I use it you’ll bleed like a stuck pig so do me a favour and piss off.”
The fear was ab
solute in the man’s eyes. I could hear the threat in the sergeant’s words. Most of the rioters were there because they thought it would be safe. They could bait the police and go home feeling like men. Suddenly they were faced with three hundred armed men on, what must have looked like, huge horses. The ones in the front row began to slink back through the lines of the rest of the mob.
Major Harrison saw the movement and shouted, “Single line! Walk!”
I put my horse next to Sergeant Armstrong and felt one of the Brown boys put his next to me. When I turned to look at him I could see that he was grinning from ear to ear. We moved forwards, slowly at first but, as the line grew in width the mob began to speed up and so did we.
“Walk, trot!”
There was real fear in the eyes of the men before us. They had not bargained for this.
“Trot!”
When three hundred horses began to open their legs, the mob lost all cohesion and fled the square as quickly as they could. We reached the buildings and Major Harrison yelled, “Halt!” In an instant we were stopped. We heard cheering. It was the police behind us. The riot was over and no one had been hurt.
Chapter 2
It had hardly been warfare but it showed us that we had the discipline to face up to men who were many times our number and we would not back down. After we had handed the square back to the police we trotted home. There was elation amongst the troopers; we had done our duty and even drawn our weapons! I was not certain if I could have used my sword but it had not come to that anyway.
Lieutenant Burscough was particularly pleased. One of the factories which had been targeted by the strikers had been his father’s. I knew nothing of the politics and I didn’t need to. Those, like the major and the lieutenant, would make all the right decisions and I would just have to trust them.
That was the last occasion we were called upon to do such service and our duties, from then on, were largely ceremonial. I had thought of what the sergeant had said and it did appeal. I liked being in the cavalry, even though it was part time, and I seemed to be born for it. I still enjoyed working with the horses but they were less exciting than when I was being in the Yeomanry. Perhaps it had been the speed and excitement of horses which had drawn me towards them. When we exercised in the Yeomanry we got to gallop the horses. When I worked with my father we just groomed and walked them. I had heard that they now had railways and steam trains which could go even faster than horses. That would not suit me. I liked being in control of the speed. When you had to adjust what you were doing to suit the terrain and the horse then that was when I enjoyed riding the most. I was not a great fan of the sword except when we had the practice sessions and had to charge at a line of marrows stuck on sticks. I was the one who managed to hit more than anyone else. Perhaps that was why I was leaning to a life in the cavalry.
Life went in at the same pace during that summer of 1913. My father gradually gave me more responsibility in the stables as my confidence and skills improved. Then something happened which changed everything. It was like throwing a small stone into the village pond; the ripples kept on going outwards. They became smaller but they still affected everything they touched. Lord Burscough had a stroke. It was not a major one but the left side of his face appeared frozen and he could not use his right leg. I did not know, at the time, what the effect would be.
The young Lord Burscough came to see me a week after it had happened. “I am afraid Lord Burscough can no longer be colonel of the regiment.” I waited in anticipation. Would he be the next colonel? He answered me in the next breath. “It appears that an outsider is to be appointed and I am leaving the regiment.”
I was shocked. There had always been a Burscough as colonel of the regiment. I suspected there was more to this than I knew but my first thoughts were selfish; what would happen to me? “Should I resign too, sir?”
He laughed, “There is no need for us both to fall upon our swords, besides everyone thinks highly of you. You shall carry on in the regiment.”
I bit my lip, “And Caesar sir? Will I have to return him?”
He put his arm on my shoulder. “Caesar was always my father’s favourite. Consider him a gift to the regiment and you.”
“What will you do then sir? Join another regiment?”
We began to walk towards the stables. “It is either, join a regiment, or run the estate and young Roger seems to be doing a damned fine job of that. “ My father saw us approach and he came towards us, removing his hat as he did so.
“Morning your lordship.”
“Morning Harsker. I’ve just been telling young William here that as I am leaving the regiment and father won’t need him we are giving Caesar to him.”
The smile on my father’s face went from ear to ear. “That’s very kind of you my lord.”
“Now the thing of it is father needs some form of transport to get around and he has taken it into his head to get one of these new fangled automobiles.”
I could see that dad was confused. “I know nothing about machines my lord.”
“I know which is where young William comes into it. He is a bright lad and my father wondered if he might learn how to drive one and then be the driver for his lordship.”
The look in dad’s eyes told me that I had to comply. If Lord Burscough wanted me to learn how to drive then I would have to learn how to drive. “Certainly sir, I am willing to have a go but I am not sure if I would be any good at it.”
His lordship smiled as he said, “We shall learn together. I intend to get one too.”
I felt relief course through my body. This would not be so bad. “In that case, sir, when do we start?”
“Capital! Saddle our horses and we’ll ride to the station and pop into Manchester this morning. Strike while the iron is hot.”
When we were at the station waiting for the train I asked his lordship why his father was not choosing his own car.
“Ah well he will do but we’ll get one for me first for us to learn in and then we can drive the old man into town to get his own.” He leaned in conspiratorially, “He doesn’t want people staring at his face and his limp. He has his pride you know. This way he retains his privacy.”
We separated when the train arrived, he went to the First Class and I walked to the rear of the train and Third Class.
This was the first time I had been to Manchester since the riot and I was a little wary. There were so many people around I felt intimidated. If I saw twenty people in a day then that was a crowd. In Manchester I saw a hundred in the first five minutes. His lordship seemed quite happy and oblivious to the memory of that day. We took a taxi to the showroom which had recently opened. The automobile we looked at was something called a Singer 10. I did not think it would suit his father at all for it was a two seater and rather small. The salesman drove him around the outside of the showroom and the local streets. To me it sounded as noisy as one of the steam engines we had on the estate but it was fast. His lordship fell in love with it straightaway. “I shall have one! When can I pick it up?”
I think the salesman was a little surprised at the speed with which the decision had been made but that was his lordship’s way. He was always impulsive and decisive.”Er by the end of the week, possibly, your lordship.”
His lordship fixed him with a stare. “It will be the end of the week. Have it delivered to the estate and we shall want some instruction in operating it too.”
“That will be extra, your lordship.”
“I can assure you it will not. You can have the payment when the vehicle is delivered.”
With that we turned around and headed back to the waiting taxis. “Some of these fellows don’t know their place, William, that is the trouble. Jumped up little chap! Now I shall drop you at the station and then I think I’ll have a few hours in the city.” He winked, “Do a bit of business and suchlike.”
“Shall I wait at the station for you sir?”
“No, just take the horses back to the stables and then r
eturn for me in the carriage at eight this evening.”
It is only now that I can look back on that world of 1913. It was a world which was about to change and we could never go back.
I was worried about the automobile and I went to see Harold; he was the man who drove the traction engines. I say drove them but he only drove them to the field and then winches were attached to ploughs and they did the work of twelve horses. They had had no attraction to me because they were slow. The Singer had been faster than Caesar! I thought, however, that the principles might be the same.
Harold laughed and shook his head. He tapped his short pipe out. “Nay, young William, they are as different as your Caesar and a donkey. You will be driving a petrol engine automobile. We had to fire these up with coal. Yours will have brakes and the steering will be easier, still I can show you how it works.” He tapped his nose, “Master will expect you to keep it running as well as driving it. They think it is the same as it was with horses.” He shook his head. “Your dad is lucky because horses are easier than these temperamental beasts.”
I was glad I spent the time with Harold. The principles helped me when the first automobile arrived. It would be a little like riding. A good rider used his hands, arms, legs and knees as well as his head. He had to use them all at the same time and I suspected it would be the same with the Singer.
Despite his words the salesman did turn up with the Singer and another automobile; a four seater. As soon as he saw the house he became more deferential. “Here you are my lord. Delivered on time as promised and we have brought the Crossley. It is slower but much easier for you to learn how to drive it.”
The young master looked a little more nervous than he had done. He pointed to me, “William here will be driving too so I shall sit in the back while you instruct him.”
