We are used to the hushed, solemn voices of BBC commentators as they narrate the events of Remembrance Sunday at the Cenotaph. It is a world where every recruit was the model soldier, eager to serve and give their lives for their country. The truth, however, was often much different. These were normal young men who would much rather have been at home with their loved ones or friends. They were probably also very scared. One of these was Private Alfred Hemingway, a military cyclist. He was far from being the perfect soldier, but he still paid the ultimate price.
When you think about the various roles played by soldiers in the Great War, cycling is not probably one that springs to mind. There were, in fact, four different types of cyclist units serving during this conflict. Two of them – the cyclist battalions of the Territorial Force and the yeomanry regiments of the Territorial Force – were based at home and used for coastal defence. The divisional cyclist companies, attached to infantry divisions, and the core cyclist battalions, which provided the same function to army corps, did, however, see active and often horrendous service abroad.
Called up to prepare for war
Alfred Hemingway was born in High Street, Horbury, in 1886, the eldest child of ten to coal miner Alan Hemingway and his wife Jane. By 1904 the family had moved first to Crigglestone and then to Carlton View in Staincross, near Barnsley. As a young man, Alfred had joined his father working in the mines. In 1908 Alfred married Alice Marsland from Monk Bretton and one year on their first child, Ada, was born, followed by Mary just over 12 months later. Their only son, Harry, was born in 1914. The family lived initially on Verona Terrace in Barnsley before moving to 156 Cemetery Road in the town.
Come the start of the war, Alfred was one of the first to receive his call-up papers and he enlisted in Barnsley in the September of 1914. He was posted to the 9th Service Battalion of the King’s own Yorkshire Light Infantry. Moves to Berkhamstead and Tring followed being billeted in Maidenhead. On 16 February 1915, Alfred was transferred to the 21st Divisional Company the Army Cyclist Corps, being part of the same division.
The disciplinary record for Alfred suggests that either army life did not fully appeal to him or that he missed his wife and family very much. On three occasions he overstayed his pass or went absent without leave, the last one leading to seven days confined to barracks.
Deployment at the front – an unforgivable waste of young lives
Alfred’s last move was to Witley camp in preparation for deployment overseas; this came on 9 September when the 21st began to embark for France. By 13 September all the troops had arrived. They did not have time to settle, however, marching or cycling long distances to be brought into the reserves for the battle of Loos. The Loos offensive began on 25 September, but the division was not called upon until the following day. The men were already exhausted and drenched from their long journey. It was to be an horrific first encounter for the newly arrived troops, incurring some 3,800 casualties for virtually no gain. It was a tragic and, in many ways, unforgivable waste of young human life.
By May 1916, the cyclist companies had been reorganised, forming a cycling battalion for each army corps. Alfred became part of the 15th Cyclist Battalion attached to the XV Corps, part of the Fourth Army. By now the cyclists, who had quite often undertaken reconnaissance and communications duties, were also used as additional infantry troops and for holding trenches.
Action at the Somme and in Operation Hush
The corps saw action on the first day of the Battle of the Somme – the Battle of Albert – where it met many of its objectives, capturing the town of Mametz and isolating Fricourt. The British Army as a whole, however, saw vast casualties: it is estimated there were almost 60,000 on the first day alone. The XV Corps continued to see action throughout the Battle of the Somme which lasted until 18 November 1916.
The 15th Cyclist Battalion spent at least part of this time based at Becordel-Becourt, a village just two miles east of Albert itself, undertaking salvage work. Here units stayed before moving to the front line. While the village was behind the lines, the troops nevertheless faced occasional shelling and the odd German bombing raid.
June 1917 saw the battalion and much of the XV Corps taking part in Operation Hush, a British plan to make amphibious landings on the Belgian coast, supported by an attack from Nieupoort and the Yser Bridgehead. The battalion was based near the town of Dunkirk. In the end, owing to German action and less than expected allied gains elsewhere, the operation was abandoned.
Degrading punishments, brutal skirmishes
One advantage of being near to the coast was that on 1 July 1917, Alfred was able to take seven days’ leave back home in Britain. He was awarded a further period of leave from 8 to 22 January 1918. True to form, however, he returned two days late and was punished with ten days’ Field Punishment Number One: a degrading punishment where the soldier was tied, standing full length, for around two hours per day to a fixed post or other object. In order to counteract rumours that soldiers were often placed in range of enemy fire, new guidelines were issued in 1917.
Tactical yet often brutal skirmishes filled the winter months of 1918. The next major operation was the Battle of the Lys, which took place near Ypres. The battle had begun when the Germans attacked Portuguese-held positions on 9 April, quickly overrunning them. The XV Corps was involved from the start.
Missing in action
On 10 April 1918 Alfred was reported missing in action.
Alfred’s army service records state that after being missing for the period 10 to 14 April, he was officially considered as being killed on or around 10 April. Extremely sadly, this information was not confirmed to his family until March 1919, following a letter from his mother Jane requesting further information.
Alfred may not have been the perfect soldier, but he gave his life for his country and he and his family surely deserved better than that. It’s a sad illustration of the disregard for young lives – particularly young working-class lives like Alfred’s – that is a tragic mark of the first world war.
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