Arthur Gordon Cade (Jim) was the third child, and first son, of Edwin Arthur Cade and his wife, Sarah Elizabeth (Trot). His two elder siblings, Ethel Della and Gladys Mary, were seven and five years older than him, respectively.
He was sent to Bengeo, a preparatory school, Hertfordshire and it was while he was there, in May 1903, that is father, Edwin, died in Dominassi, Gold Coast and was buried in Obuassi. From Bengeo, Jim went on to Haileybury (1905-1908) and then decided to make the Army his career. He joined the Middlesex Regiment, whose headquarters were in Mill Hill, not far from the family home in Southgate.
After training in Malta in 1913, he was sent to the Front in 1914 and took part in many crucial battles during the ensuing four years, being awarded the Military Cross at Neuve Chappelle in 1915, a Bar to his MC in December 1915 and a DSO in September 1917: he was also mentioned in despatches three times.
He married, in February 1918, Ada Young and returned to the Front on 18th April 1918. He was killed, at Mont Kemmel, on 26th April 1918.
His daughter, Annette, was born in November 1918.
Letters Written Home By
Lt-Col Arthur Gordon (Jim) Cade DSO, MC and Bar
(The Duke of Cambridge’s Own) Middlesex Regiment
To his sisters, Ethel (1884), Gladys (Dad, 1886) and Theo (Feo, 1903),
his younger brother, Bobbie, and his niece, Betty
Jim married Ada Young in February 1918 and returned to the Front on
18th April 1918. He was killed at Mont Kemmel on 26th April 1918.
His daughter, Annette, was born in November 1918
Letters Home From Arthur Gordon Cade (Jim) & friends, inc Reg(gie) Young and Fred (see Journal)
December 21st 1914 (a card)
Dear Ethel
Many thanks for your letters, I’ve no time to write much at present so am only sending PCs.
Wishing you all a Merry Xmas and prosperous New Year.
Yours truly,
AGC
Please thank Gertrude for the mittens
AGC
February 24th 1915
Dear Ethel
Many thanks for your letter of the 19th. No! I haven’t gone to the MG Course yet but I hope to in due course.
I haven’t heard from Mont yet – nor have I seen or heard anything of Leicester. What a hero-worshipper you are! It would rather change your opinion of me (as a soldier) if I raked a DSO in – wouldn’t it? However, that is not likely, especially in this sort of warfare.
We are carrying on in the same old way, so you will understand that there is nothing whatever to tell you. The weather is just the same as a rule, but nowadays we get an occasional fine day which is truly a treat. This morning I took the Company to the baths (those of which you have seen pictures in the papers) and then afterwards I went and had a bath at a Convent – it was a real treat – although the bath was small and made of zinc. Well! I’ll dry up now – best wishes to Arthur and much love to yourself and offspring.
From your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
May 15th 1915
Dear Ethel
Just a short note to let you know that I’m still alive.
You ask what I mean by frozen feet – I mean that those whose feet were frozen during the winter still suffer with them as soon as they begin to get cold.
No! Wilkinson is, of course, a civilian, and joined us a Hensley Park.
I’m surprised at you not knowing the Middlesex colours – I enclose two fragments which will remind you.
We have been having a rather poor time during the last few days in the way of shells. Three men, in my Company alone, went raving mad – I understand from the Doctor that they will probably be sane in about two months’ time. Tomorrow is the anniversary of ‘Albuhera’ – last year we had boat races on the Marsamxett Harbour – this year, I wonder?
The French have been putting up a good show haven’t they? I only wish Italy would come in – not only for Hunny to protect, but it would release the large force of French at present guarding the Italian frontier.
Well, I must in church now – love to all your family and especially yourself from
Your affectionate brother
Arthur G Cade
B.E.F May 23rd 1915
My dear Ethel
Coming home on leave 27th for seven days!!!! Too mad with joy for words.
See you soon.
Yours ever
Reggie J Young
B.E.F October 5th 1915
Jim and I coming home, arrive either Friday morning on Monday morning!
Hope Friday
Yours ever ALS
May 30th 1915
Dear Kiddie
I’m afraid you must think me an awful brute to have forgotten your birthday, for that’s what I did, had I remembered it, I would have written in time. Better late than never, however, so here very many happy returns of the day. I hope you enjoyed yourself, and in fact are still doing so.
You would laugh, wee sister, if you could see me as I am out here – I’m quite different to what I am at home. I’m wearing very shabby uniform with lyddite stains all over it, I didn’t shave this morning – my hair is so short that it won’t part at all, my boots haven’t seen any polish since they came to France, and my skin is even spottier than usual. What a brother to have!!!
If I do get any leave, I shall have to clean myself up and put on new clothes or my ‘kid sister’ won’t know me, will she?
Whilst I’m writing this, in a funny little house made of sacks and mud with a corrugated iron roof, the Hun shells are passing overhead and bursting about 2,000 yards behind – you’d wonder what it was if you heard a big shell going over, they make such a funny noise. You’d also thank your lucky stars that they were not stopping anywhere near you.
Please thank Dad for her letter and ask her not to address me as Captain until I’m gazetted one – also thank her for the fruit, which arrived last night.
I’m so looking forward to getting some leave – to be away from this sort of life, even for a few days, would be such a treat.
Well, kiddie, I don’t think I can write any more so I’ll end by sending my very best love to you – hoping to see you within the next week or so.
Your brother (big, what smokes)
Jim
October 20th 1915
Dear Ethel
Thanks so much for your letter – I’m just sending you a short note to tell you that Eva came to Folkestone to see us off last Thursday. We had to walk about half a mile over platforms etc to get to her as she was not allowed into the station. How she has grown since I saw her last!
I wonder what it can be that I shall find on the wall of my room when I next come home?
I’m awfully sick with life just now – they’ve turned us into a lot of schoolmasters again – teaching all day long, under the direction of a d———-, ———-, ———— fool who insists of altering everything to his own blasted way. Well so long for the present.
Love to all the family from
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
December 18th 1915
Dear Ethel
Reggie told me that you had been strafing because I had not written to you for so long – it’s no use my saying I haven’t had time because I have, so I’ll just say that I’m sorry.
We are ‘resting’, so if you know our Charlie Chaplin Army you may be sure we are having a strenuous time of it.
I’m afraid the Staff job is ‘off’, but I’m in for Adjutant of our 12th Battalion – I may get it. It will have its disadvantages, but I think it would be a good thing. However, I won’t count chickens before they are hatched.
The last few days have not been too bad, but the preceding weeks have been ——— ———-. Rain day and night.
Reggie is very fit, and so am I, in fact fitter than I ever have been out here as we are playing a fair amount of Rugger.
I really cannot write a real letter so I’ll stop by wishing you, Arthur and the kiddies as happy a Christmas as is possible in war time.
With love from
Your affectionate brother
Arthur G Cade.
B.E.F January 31st 1916
Cheery Oh! Ethel
Just a wee note to tell you that dear old Jim and I are still alive and kicking! Thanks ever so much for your letter, which came while we were in the trenches. We came out last night and now we shall have quite a peaceful time for some time. We go to ‘where it is quite different’ soon.
Now for those questions of yours to answer! Well, we were out for four blessed days and a bullet fired from a machine gun through the roof of the French Headquarters couldn’t possibly do any harm to an Adjutant sitting in an apology for an Orderly Room. At least, it would be jollied lucky if it did! I mean the bullet would!
While we were out last time the dear, delightful Bosch was clever enough to get eight direct hits with a ‘pip-squeak’ battery on the house, so that a little more of the roof was absent when we staggered in there again! The blighters also shelled our tents like blazes the other afternoon for about two hours. I was almost sick with fear the whole time! I wouldn’t have minded if Jim hadn’t happened to be there. Oh! It’s a weird existence Ethel!
Yesterday there was a thick fog the whole day and that kept Fritz quiet, thank Goodness! I’ve had an awful lot to do lately. Everything seems to sail in at once, and it seems as if everything ought to be answered at the same time and I’ve only got one satellite just at present as the other one is on leave, lucky blighter! They have, it seems, much more like two months than a fortnight since that Monday.
We are back again in the village I told you of that Fritz likes to ‘crumb’ at times though up to date he hasn’t polluted us with any more! I had rather a miserable time this last time at French Headquarters, as I had to do the Padre’s job for him as he is ill, and we had rather bad luck in getting three poor devils killed. I do hate having to do it, though I suppose it is nicer than to have no service read at all.
It was simply ripping of you and Arthur to give the dear little mater such a topping time, Ethel. She was full of it when she wrote to me about it. My hat! There are some extraordinary kind people in this funny old world. How is Arthur and Betty and baby? I heard from Mrs Cade the other day, and she told me Arthur had been out to meet a lot more trains. As far as I know, nothing has been happening. Hugh told me at Boulogne that it was often simply an accumulation of people who had been laid out for a month or so and they were just sending them home to make room.
I had a topping bath just before dinner and feel quite clean again and, thank heavens, I don’t have to get up at 4am tomorrow! I must stop now, Ethel, and go to bed. I am so weary! I haven’t seen Jim today. He’s rather far away and I haven’t had time. Give my love to Betty and baby and ‘salaams’ to Arthur.
With love from
Reg
PS I said this was going to be a ‘wee’ note. You must be bored stiff by now! R
February 23rd 1916
Dear Wee-one
Thanks so much for your letter – you see I am really going to try and write you a letter – though I’m afraid it won’t be a very interesting one. I’m writing this from my dugout, the baby who lives here with me is sitting on his bed trying to take his boots off, which is no easy matter judging from the grunts and puffs which are going on.
Everything outside is covered with snow and looks quite pretty but it’s very cold – especially at night. Reggie came down to the trenches this morning, looking very ‘twee’ as usual. I guess you would just love to be here now with your ferrets – there are tons of rats here in the dugouts and ditches and we could have great fun. I guess.
A German shell dropped into the village where we were billeted the other day and killed a little girl and wounded another girl. How would you like to live in a place like that? These French people seem to have got quite used to it, though they still get somewhat upset when they hear shells whistling overhead.
Well kiddie, I’m going to try and get some sleep now (2pm) so as to be fit by the time night begins. Love to all at home. Baby sends his love.
Your loving brother
Jim
March 14th 1916
Ethel
Just a short letter to thank you for your letter of the 3rd and for your parcel of ‘nose-treats’, which arrived this afternoon.
I’m so very busy in this new job that I have practically no time to myself, hence so few letters. When the next course starts, I shall have more time, as all my lectures will be prepared.
I’m very comfortable here and it really is a treat to get a real change – also I hope to get a staff job from this, if my luck holds good.
I expect to see Reggie and the Blue Eyed Babe again tomorrow evening.
Will Arthur be called up? It does seem hard luck after all the work he’s been doing – advise him from me to try something other than Infantry, such as RAMC or Artillery. It’s poor fun being a Private in the Infantry.
Well old girl, excuse more now, but I must write several letters tonight and I want to go to bed before breakfast time. Love to all the kiddies and chin chins to Poppa from
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
Aug 10th 1916
Dear Feo
Many thanks for your letter. I didn’t know who it was from until I saw your name at the bottom. I expect you’re glad to see Reggie sometimes nowadays – have you seen Colonel Sandys? If so, do you like him?
I should like to come home for a few days now whilst its such nice weather. It’s quite hot here, but heat with us means flies and nasty smells. I’d like to go to the Curlews Nest for a week and just laze about.
I wonder if you’d like to change beds with me. I’ve got plenty of little friends in mine and rats have a habit of running across one’s body during the night – personally I don’t care very much for either, but perhaps you would like them – what say you?
I shall be due for some more leave about the 3rd of September but I have my doubts as to whether it will be open by then.
Well, kiddie, I know that this is a rotten letter but I don’t feel much inclined to work today.
Au revoir – with love from
Jim
Enclosed is a little present – it may come in useful.
B.E.F April 8th 1916
Thanks so much, Ethel, for your long letter that came yesterday. I was awfully glad to get it. Here’s another of my few and far between ‘scrawls’. I am a lazy beggar aren’t I? Have I told you about our new home – dugouts on the top of a colossal hill from which one gets a grand view of the Hun on the hill opposite. It is ripping being able to see something at last. This is such a topping country, beautifully open and hilly and we had the most glorious gallops while we were out in Billets.
Jim and the CO and the Baby and myself all went out one afternoon and had a high time and simply chased about all over the place after hares and goodness knows what not! Zephyr is simply topping now and much better about lorries. The other day I made her nearly put her nose into a goods train which was moving across a level crossing with a huge engine pouring out smoke and she didn’t care a bit. I think she can easily beat anything else in the Battalion.
I took on the CO and the Battery the other day and left them absolutely standing. She’s a dear little thing and always ready to go simply ‘all out!’
We are going to get some more gallops when we go out. Jim is still with us. I don’t know when the school is going to open again, very soon I think. He is doing sort of extra Regimental Staff Officer at present.
These are topping trenches, ripping and dry and chalky (I believe I’ve already told you all this!) and quite far away from Fritz except in one place where we are only thirty yards apart. Nasty spot, altogether, which the Hun loves crumping with trench mortars and rifle grenades. He is much too uppish here just at present. I don’t think he has been strafed enough just lately.
Poor old Stewton had his left blown to pieces this afternoon by one of the beastly things. I am afraid he is very badly wounded and a dashed good chap too.
By Jove, Arthur must have had a hopeless time in that train the other day. I do hope those wretched Zeppelins haven’t been worrying all you dear old people again.
The weather is rather too nice for them. It’s rather cold here just now though we have had some perfectly heavenly days.
Yes, Ethel, I am longing for leave again and I think your suggestions about Brighton or any old where so long as it is at home would be ripping. I can’t get away just now, whatever happens, I wish I could but there are still several to go before myself and Jim. When our turn comes, I dare say Jim will be able to get away with me. I do hope so.
How are the dear wee kiddies and Arthur? Give them all my love won’t you. I must stop now and go to bed. I still have to get up at 4am each morning.
Lots of love, Ethel dear
From
Reg
September 26th 1916
Dear Ethel
Many thanks for your letter of 21st. I’ve got nothing particular to write about but as I’ve got a few hours to spend, I thought I’d write whilst I can. You will have heard I expect from Reggie what sort of a time we are having out here just now – nice isn’t it? We are lucky!
Reggie’s engagement came as a bit of a shock to me – however, she’s a dear little girl and boys will be boys, n’est ce pas?
I don’t see much chance of getting leave just yet awhile – things are moving too fast for leave for the likes o’me. But I certainly don’t grudge our extra strain since things are going so well.
Please thank Arthur for his letter of the 17th. No more just now.
Love to all the family
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
October 4th 1916
Dear Ethel
Just a short note to wish you many happy returns of the day – though I admit I don’t remember which day your birthday falls on. I know that it’s either 3rd or 7th and I rather think it is the latter. We are having a strenuous time of it hereabouts nowadays – winning the war? I’m a trifle fed up with things in general.
Today Major Thompson, my old Company Commander who was wounded at Neuve Chapelle, came out to take over command – so now, when Col Finch returns – and he expects to do so on the 15th – I go back to Company Command again. But NOT for long, I’ll see to that alright.
I’ll try and write more often when the powers that now are here have got into the swing of things, meanwhile you must excuse a real letter.
With love to you and the family from
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
October 27th 1916
Dear Ethel
Just a short letter to thank you for yours of the 10th – you will, I expect, have heard my little bit of news ie that I’ve been awarded a bar to my MC, otherwise I’ve absolutely no news whatsoever. I’m rubbing along in the same old way and am just about bored stiff with it. No! nobody else sends me ‘smells’ and by the way, I should very much like another bottle of that hair stuff – I know you won’t mind me asking – I think it’s quite stopped my hair coming out.
No, I was not the young Officer in the Chronicle yarn! I’ve been very lucky, twice only have I led a bayonet charge, and each time I’ve been given an MC for it. The satisfactory part of the business is that if I’m knocked out now, I shall have “done my bit” in having killed eight Bosch at close quarters (two at Neuve Chappelle and six the other day). I don’t know when I shall be getting leave, I’m sure – I hope soon, but things are not easy these days.
You horror – standing for a theatre! I wouldn’t do it for a pension, not even in war time.
Well, I’ve blink to gas about so I’ll ‘cut it out’ – au revoir.
Love to all the family from
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
Please excuse edge but the quality of these pads is ————–
November 8th 1916
Dear Feo
I expect you wondering whether I’m ever going to answer your letters, aren’t you? Sorry, I’ve been so long, but as I expect you have heard, I’ve been very busy lately ‘Hun killing’. However, I’m now back again in civilization for the first time for three weeks or so. No, I’m afraid there is still no chance of leave just at present but if all goes well, it ought not to be long now before I’m back again at Bay Tree Cottage for a week or so.
I’m looking forward to seeing my ‘kiddie sister’ in her new white sweater; I may be quite wrong, but the kit I like best for your sort of people is a short serge skirt, sweater and woolly cap. Is that anything near the fashion these days? Of course, I need hardly add long silk stockings – that is more to be the thing.
I suppose you will be quite grown up by the time I see you again – it’s more than five months already, and I used to notice a big difference after three.
I hope that next time I come home the King will pin something else on my chest – but I’m not counting too much on it because I don’t want to be disappointed.
Well, little girl, I’ve got no real news to tell you so I’ll stop.
With much love
From your brother,
Jim
PS please ask Mother to put some candles in her next parcels.
December 16th 1916
Dear Ethel
I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself for not having answered your letter before this, but I’ve been daily expecting the hair stuff to turn up, so I kept putting it off. The parcel turned up last night, having taken ten days en route! Very many thanks for it, you’ve no idea what a comfort it is after having to stick one’s hair down with water which makes one’s heat itch like billy oh!
Yes, you’re quite right about the machine gun – and what is more, we’ve obtained special permission to keep it for the 77th Foot so, après la guerre, you will doubtless find it in our Mess together with the Russian drums captured at Sevastopol etc.
As usual there is nothing much to tell about but, such as there is, you shall certainly hear next time we meet. You ask when I’m coming home – I wish I knew, but I fear it will not be before Xmas now. Anyhow, if leave is still open early in the New Year I shall do my best to get back then.
Well old girl, I’ve nothing to write about so I’ll chuck my mitt in right here see. Best wishes to Poppa and the kiddies from
Your affectionate brother,
Jim
December 22nd 1916
Dear Feo
I’m sending you a card for yourself because I thought it might be a souvenir, if you collect such things, of this jolly little war.
I can’t send one each because of the shortage of cards – I ordered two thousand, five hundred but they were bought up like hot cakes.
Well, little kidlett, I hope you’ll have as good a Christmas as possible and that you have good luck in 1917.
Au revoir for the present – I hope to see you early next year.
With much love from
Jim
December 24th 1916
Dear Ethel
Just a short letter to thank you for yours of the 16th. Many thanks in advance for the pipe – the one you gave me some time ago is at present in my mouth, but I admit that it is in need of a rest, whenever I smoke it, it sounds like someone dropping water on a hot stove!
I’m so sorry to hear that you’ve been having such a rotten time – I hope that by the time this reaches you, you will be quite fit again.
Really you should curb your imagination as far as your brother is concerned, don’t make an idol of him, in case you find that one day that his feet are of clay.
‘We ain’t no thin red ‘eroes, but we ain’t no blaguards too, but single men (?) in khaki (apologies to RR) most remarkable like you’.
Please thank Arthur for his letter and congratulations.
With all best wishes to you, Poppa and the kiddies for good luck in 1917.
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
Christmas Day
Dear Ethel
I hope that you enjoyed yourself on Christmas Day, in spite of Arthur’s departure on Boxing Day. Do cheer up, for Mother’s sake, because if you make yourself ill over a dog, I cannot imagine what you will be over Arthur’s departure, even if it is only for a month.
With much love – and wishing you all good wishes for a happy New Year.
I remain
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
March 26th 1917
Dear Ethel
I’m quite ashamed of myself for not writing to you before since I returned to this charming country – many thanks for your letters of the 4th and 17th.
Yes – as you say, things are happening at a pace out here. We are doing quite different things to what we’ve ever done since I came out to this country. I expect you can pretty well guess what I mean by the papers.
We’ve been having topping weather for about a week, although very cold, especially at night when it usually freezes – today, however, it’s changed its mind and is raining ——– it! Drips are already coming through the ceiling (save the mark) of my suite of rooms – ie my bed-sitting-dining-card-billiard-bath-smoking room.
Am I depressed? YES.
There is nothing about which I may say anything, so I’ll chuck my hand in. Please remember me to Joan and give my love to the kiddies. Salaams to Arthur.
With much love from
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
My hands are ——– cold hence the ‘worse than usual’ writing.
April 2nd 1917
Dear Feo
It’s a long, long time since I last wrote to you, isn’t it? But I’ve not forgotten you – the fact is that, except for writing to Mother, I’ve hardly written any letters lately. Many thanks for your letter – you will be interested to hear that I had a letter from Pat (she said you seemed very interested when she was writing it) and I’ve today sent a note in reply.
I only got back to this place (a ruined village) this morning but in spite of being mighty tired, I feel I must write a few letters at once in case we are hauled out at short notice – which happens fairly often these days.
We are having a mighty poor time of it nowadays because – the ………. Hun burns all the villages and blows up most of the cellars before we can chase him out. However, we caught him bending the other day; we surrounded a village in the dark and attacked it by day. We captured sixteen ‘Hunletts’ and 1 machine gun. Other Huns, who were in the village, we scuppered accidental-on-purpose-like. It’s quite a different war to what we’ve been used to for the last two years, and makes a welcome change.
The weather’s beastly cold and very wet, but I suppose there will be some spring weather one of these jolly old days.
Well, there really isn’t anything to write about, so I’ll stop. Best of luck.
With love from
Jim
April 27th 1917
Dear Feo
It’s quite a long time since I last wrote to you, isn’t it? I’m sorry but we’ve been kept on the go pretty well lately.
Congratulations on being bottom of dictation!!! I’m sorry I upset your majesty by the term ‘little’, but I wish to point out that it’s a term of endearment. However if you don’t like it, I won’t use it, so there.
We’re at last having some decent weather but it’s still quite cold for this time of year. We haven’t been treated to a snowstorm since April 12th, which certainly is a great treat.
At present we’re out of the line and I’m living in a bell tent, which is luxury these days. But one does get somewhat fed up with the sight of ruined villages, farms etc, and cut down trees and blown up roads, bridges, railways, etc. The Gentle Hun has laid everything waste behind him, not to mention leaving any number of ‘booby traps’ for us.
Well, ‘girl’, I’ve nothing especially interesting to write about so I’ll stop. Please give my love to Dad and tell her I’ll write to her soon.
With much love from
Jim
May 20 1917
Dear Theo
Just a short letter to wish you many happy returns of your birthday – I can’t get you a present here as there are no houses, much less shops, so I’m sending £1 so that you can buy yourself anything you want in a small way.
I’m sorry to hear that you’ve got the worst of your argument with a bee and hope that your face is better now.
Yes, it does make a difference if you leave a ‘not’ out of a sentence, doesn’t it? This is the 1st chance I’ve had for writing letters by daylight for weeks and I do expect to get another for some time so they must all be short.
With much love to you little girl, from
Jim
May 27th 1917
Dear Ethel
I expect you’re beginning to wonder whether you’re ever going to hear from me again, n’est ce pas? Sorry, but we’ve been kept pretty busy lately. We are out of the line at the moment, so one gets less time to oneself than ever. The weather is very hot these days, so hot in fact that we keep getting thunderstorms which are a beastly nuisance.
Have you seen anything of ‘Freddy Baker? He’s home on a month’s leave. It is just about time he had a rest, poor devil – he was getting into an awful state.
I don’t see much prospect of leave yet a while for myself – I’m sorry, as I should have liked to be in town on June 27th. I feel somehow that one owes it to a pal to see him decently buried – or married.
It must be topping in England now – out here, of course, our friends the Huns have chopped down practically every fruit tree or current bush, not to mention their wholesale destruction of villages. Also they blew in all the wells, result is, of course, that water is often scarce, which certainly is unpleasant in this weather.
It’s curious when one thinks of this, isn’t it? I haven’t seen a civilian for over three months. One would hardly credit such a statement, would one?
The other night we went to a ‘show’, one of the artistes was an officer dressed as a girl and he made a topping one – the sight of long silk stockings and ‘oddments of that kind’ nearly made me faint. You can have no idea what a shock it was.
The eau de quinine hasn’t turned up yet – I don’t know whether it’s been torpedoed or pinched en route. I’d be glad of some now (since you asked me to tell you). Please, please remember me to Joan when you next see her’ and tell her that I haven’t had that letter she promised me!!!!!
Love to Poppa and the kiddies from
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
August 23rd 1917
Dear Arthur
Many thanks for your letter of the 15th. I’m just sitting down to scribble an acknowledgement – I’ve no time to write real letters these days. I’m sorry to hear about Ethel’s finger, and hope it will be alright by the time this reaches you.
If you happen to see my name in the wounded list (which I don’t think you will) don’t be surprised as it would only be referring to 4 scratches I collected in our last attack. Nothing at all to count.
I expect you’ve heard that we’ve been ‘over the top’ twice in the last 3 weeks – the first time, I was left at Battery HQ in our front line, but the second time the CO was sent back to a camp six miles behind the lines and I had the running of the whole show – I hope to pick up something out of it, I know the General is pushing it forward – so that’s alright.
You’re a lucky dog to have a gramophone – we can’t carry them about in these stirring times worse luck.
Baker went off after our first attack (for which he has just got an MC) as 2/in Command to another Battalion in our Brigade so we’ve lost him, although I see him fairly often.
By the way, I’ve at last got the address of the make of those cigars you liked so much, do you remember? (Quorn toothpicks): J H G Hamilton, 26 St Georges St, Canterbury.
Well cheery oh, old bird. Love to Ethel and the kiddies.
Yours, as ever
Arthur G Cade
September 13th 1917
Dear Ethel
Many thanks for your letter of the 7th. Well you need no longer remain on tiptoe as I’ve been awarded the DSO, so that’s that. What with a gold stripe, a DSO and an MC (mit Bar) I shall be quite one of the dogs, n’est ce pas?
Yes, you certainly do appear to have been gingered up a bit lately by our friends the Hun. I quite agree with what you say about ‘fear breeding fear’ – my original fear has been breeding for three years now, and I’m about plumb full of ‘wind up.’
I don’t know what you mean when you say that perhaps I’m a woman’s man!!! I may have spoken to young females, other than relations, once or twice in my life, but I’m sure you would be the last person to suggest that I still continue such practices – am I not right?
Did Arthur get my letter all right? I sent him the address of the make of those cigars he liked so much.
Well, please excuse so short a letter but I’ve a lot to write.
Love to Poppa and the kiddies from
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
September 27th 1917
Dear Peter (written to his brother, Bobbie)
Many thanks for your letter and for the tress, much congratulations. No of course you didn’t tell me about Paul’s hair – how could you have done so, you haven’t written to me for months, you little villain. I don’t know that I should like it cut short – however we’ll see when I next come home.
I’m hoping to be able to get home for ten days about October 6th, but of course, one never can be certain of anything these days.
I’m writing this from a dugout at Battalion HQ, which I share with umpteen rats, not to mention mice and creepy crawlies, and other such small game. Thank goodness the weather is keeping pretty decent as we are not having too bad a time of it taking things all round.
Have you seen Pennycook yet? I wonder what you will think of him when you do – he’s a topping fellow.
Please thank Dad for her two letters and ask her to keep the kitten until I get home on leave again.
Have any of you seen us on the film yet? Well Peter, I’ve got nothing to say, so I guess I’ll stop right here.
Please give my love to Pat and Paul when you see them. The former owes me a letter.
Cheer oh!
Your loving brother
Jim
September 29th 1917
Dear Ethel
Just a short note to wish you many happy returns of the day. I hope you won’t celebrate the occasion by having an air raid.
Very many thanks for your letter of congratulation – I’m hoping to be able to get home about the 9th of next month, and then I shall have to go and see NM about it! I’ve never seen a DSO close to, I believe it’s very pretty.
Well, I’ve really nothing to tell you and, as I’ve no present to send, I’m enclosing a little bit of DSO ribbon.
Cheer oh, love to all the family from
Your loving brother
Arthur G Cade
October 19th 1917
My dear Betty
Many thanks for your letter and cards, it was very good of you to write to me and to paint the postcard. I’m sure it must have taken you a long time to do. I’m sure I couldn’t paint half as well.
It’s rather a job writing, as I can’t use my left hand and the paper keeps running away from my pencil – just try yourself and write something with your left hand under the table.
I’m really having quite a good time up here because, you see, everybody treats me as if I were ill, whereas I’m really quite well except for five punctures. I was allowed downstairs for the first time yesterday and today I was allowed to go for a half hour’s walk in the streets.
I’m hoping that it won’t be long before I’m allowed to come down to Bay Tree Cottage and then I shall see you all.
Until then, au revoir. Please give my love to Alastair and thank him for his card.
With much love from
Your uncle
Jim
This letter refers to Cecil Ewart Cade (Bobbie) who was reported missing
15 Sussex Road
Southsea
November 8th 1918
Dear Stair
I called at the 5th Southern General Hospital yesterday afternoon and saw Lieutenant Smith, but am sorry to say I could not get much information from him. He seemed surprised to hear about Cade as he (Cade) was one of the Moppers up, and therefore did not go over till after Smith.
The Hun never retook anything as the Middlesex got to their objective, and then the Argylls came through them and carried on. Smith was hit in the foot; he told me he knew Cade very well and said what a bright young fellow he was. Smith has written to an Officer for full particulars so I may hear something more as I am going to see him again next week.
They went over at Le Forest and he seems to think you will hear that Cade is alright, as he could not be a prisoner; probably got mixed up with another Battalion, which often happens. Sorry I am unable to tell you more.
Kind regards to Mrs Stair, and tell her there is every chance of some good news of her brother before long.
Yours sincerely
Signed H B Gregory.
From ‘FRED’ – real identity unknown.
Dear Edie
Bert says you want a letter, so I must write a line
Tis Sunday, no day better, to write you sister mine
The stars appear once nightly – when I retire to bed
I’m feeling fit and cheerful, each morn I’m like a lark,
There’s little news to tell ‘E’. In camp or on the road
The days pass by so quickly – time never makes a load.
The two years I’ve resided, in Salonique so bleak,
I’ve learnt to love Old England, and learned to curse in Greek.
The people whom I deal with – the Native here I mean –
Are out to do their damndest. They think a Tommy’s green.
And should one chance to do them, their actions are must vulgar
To start one fairly cursing, just say he is a ‘Bulgar’
For at the great Creation, when all thins first were made,
A great conglomeration of scrappy bits were laid.
Where powers above could see them, and with ‘Let there be peace,’
Came this, that heap of rubbish, will do ‘Let there be Greece.’
The people match the country, they’ve naught to recommend
Them to a keen observer, have guile without an end.
I’ve spent most days a travelling, through town or countryside,
The engine loud a travailing, its L.G.O.s first pride –
It’s noisy, yes, and troublesome, and bad from plugs to rods
We do our best and muddle some, while we invoke the Gods.
She knocks her way through snowdrifts, thro’ dust and rain and much
And groans while she’s a working, she’s happy when she’s stuck.
She’s fed up with the Army, and I can safely bet
That since she left old England, her life’s been one regret.
When Gabriel sounds the trumpet to make the dead arise,
D’you know who’ll take the front seat, d’you know who’ll get first prize?
The ordinary person, to heaven or hell will go
Saint’s hallow wait the MT’s who drive an LGO.
Appreciate your brother, while on the earth you are,
We shall not meet above dear, you are a fallen star.
Maybe I’ll be a harpist, perhaps I’ll even sing,
My voice is fit for heaven – a most unearthly thing –
If from the golden gateway, my hymns of praise shall swell
They’ll pain and cause commotion, to tortured coves in Hell.
T’will give a joy delicious unto my soul so meek
If Hades holds a tortured, perspiring bally Greek.
From Bert I hear once weekly, like me, he’s got no news,
He’s had a touch of shivers, which left him with the blues
But now he seems quite happy and much inclined to joke,
The thanks me most profusely, because I sent a smoke.
His life is most exacting, to face a Bulgar mob
Would give me fits forever, I shouldn’t like his job.
If I were in that stunt, dear, with bayonet and with gun,
My motto first and last, dear, ‘Look after number one,’.
And now I’ll get to business, I think it is a shame
That air raids are so frequent, but no one is to blame.
Tis easy to so criticise, and try to call disgrace
On people in authority – above there’s too much space.
Protecting planes might wait for Huns, for aye and never copy ‘em
While Gothas, bring their bally bombs to London and then drop ‘em.
For in the air there are no roads, no tracks but room galore
For many thousands of square miles, all this and then some more.
I’m sorry for the people who in London have to live
To be in fear of sudden death, a constant strain must give,
But ‘E’, before another plane should bring a bomb and drop it
Take your fond brother’s sound advice, ‘Pack up your traps and hope it’.
Just where you are till peace arrives, O that most happy day
I’ll be as happy as a king and hope to reach home quick,
To find yourself and all at home a-waiting – yes and Vic –
I can’t forget I brought him down to this his present level,
Perhaps he recollects it too and sends me to the devil.
I had the best intentions, he seemed so much alone
When I gave invitation to hear that gramophone.
He came, but had he known, dear, what fate had held in store,
He would have got quite ‘sozzled’ and we’d have been friends no more.
Of all the bally courtships which I have ever known,
For sheer unholy haste dear, yours surely stands alone,
I’ve lived to five and thirty and single I remain,
To see you people rushing as you do gives me a pain.
I wish you all the best dear, I do admire your taste,
The old ‘Repent at leisure’ will not affect your haste.
Some day I may do likewise, perhaps I’ll take a wife,
Who makes me pay for waiting and drives me from this life.
Perhaps she’ll say she loves me, then may the fates be kind
To me and place her safely with those of unsound mind.
Whatever sort of girl I choose, I’ll take her down to Mother
I’ll show her to my sisters yes, I’ll show her to my brother.
Then if my playful little ways, in homicide should stop her,
She’d say if you came round for me ‘am I thy brother’s keeper?’
At this I end this merry lay, read this if you can stick it,
A Censor has to wade through it and I shall get my ticket.
That is if he can stand as much, maybe t’would make him faint,
This would not worry you or me, because we know he aint.
Yours affectionately
FRED
OVILLIERS-57D 3E.4 23/8
Report by Captain Arthur Gordon Cade
The Battalion, in conjunction with the remainder of the 8th Division, assaulted the German front line system between OVILLIERS LA BOISSELLE and LA BOISSELLE at 7:30am after an intense bombardment lasting 65 minutes. The assault was carried out in 4 waves – the leading wave consisting of 2 Platoons of “B” Coy on the right and 2 Platoons of “A” Coy: The second wave, which followed at 50 yds distance, consisting of the remaining Platoon of “A” & “B” Companies.
The third and fourth waves, similarly composed of “D” and “C” Coy, followed the proceeding waves at 50 yards distance. The Battalion Bombers were distributed by squads amongst the four waves & the 8 Lewis gun teams amongst the 2/D 3/D & 4/d waves.
On the right were a battalion of the TYNESIDE SCOTTISH belonging to the 34th Division & on the left were the 2/D Devons R.
As soon as our leading waves left our trenches to assault, it was caught by heavy machine gun fire and suffered heavy losses. As soon as the succeeding waves came under fire they doubled forward and before anyone reached the German front line the original wave formation had ceased to exist.
About 200 of all ranks succeeded in reaching the German lines – passing over the front line they entered the 2/D line of trenches, but after a short fight, during which about half became casualties, they were forced to retire to the German front line. There, under the leadership of MAJOR H.B.W. SAVILLE, CAPT & ADJ. R.J.YOUNG, 2/LIEUTS P.M.ELLIOTT W.SPATZ & H.C. HUNT, the survivors proceeded to consolidate.
By 9:15am the handful of unwounded men, numbering perhaps a dozen, were forced to retire to the shell holes outside the enemy front line, were the majority remained until darkness enabled them to regain our lines.
Of the 23 Officers who took part in the assault only 2/LIEUT H. C. HUNT regained our lines unwounded. Of the 650 NCO’s & men who took part in the assault, a lone 50 answered their names in the early hours of July 2/D.
The following Officers were reported as casualties. Killed. CAPT. C.S. HILTON, 2/LIEUTS P.M. ELLIOTT, R.E.GRUNDY, W.SPATZ, J. WILSON, CAPT MEEKE.
WOUNDED LT.COL. E.T.F.SANDYS, MAJOR H.B.W. SAVILLE, CAPT & ADJ R.J.YOUNG, CAPT G. JOHNSON, LIEUTS W.J.CLACHAN & R. McDYORSTON, H.PECKHAM, 2/LIEUTS C.H.RAWSON, O.N.S. DOBBS.
Wounded & missing 2/LIEUTS C.S.DAVIS (K), W.S.FORGE (K), G.SCOTT (K), T.S. McMANUS, F.VAN-DEN-BOK (K), H.D.WOOD (W), A.I. FROST (K).
© VCRT