Shell, Spikes and a Dog Called Drummy.

Five extraordinary years in the life of an ordinary man.

Just when you think that there surely cannot be any new Great War, first hand memoirs, one pops up! This one follows a familiar pattern: i.e. the writer’s grandsons found the material; memoirs, photos and medals, when they were clearing out their parent’s home after their mother’s death in 2018.

George Alfred Gregson, a Lancashire man all his life, known as Alf, decided that he needed to write down his memories of the war and his life, having watched a documentary (one has to assume about the Somme) in 1967. He believed aspects of it were incorrect; apparently saying “I know, because I was there”. So he did. In an exercise book, in capital letters with very little punctuation! These were bravely transcribed by a lady at the Lancashire Fusiliers Museum in her spare time. It took over a year and then grandson Michael, equally bravely, edited them, cross referencing Alf’s memories and stories with the War Diaries and Annuals of the Lancashire Fusiliers.

Alf was also something of a runner and had been in the Boys Brigade. I am not entirely sure how he discovered this ability, but I have a feeling that the war may have denied us an Olympic champion as Alf won many races, gold medals and prizes both in and out of the army. He volunteered very soon after war was declared and when I tell you that after training, he was posted to 1st Btn Lancashire Fusiliers, you will be able to guess that his first experience of war was Gallipoli, from where he was evacuated towards the end, with frost bite and rheumatic fever. He recovered and was then posted to 10th Lancashire Fusiliers and the Somme, luckily perhaps, not the ’First Day’. He signed up for another year after the Armistice and his military career ended with the rank of Temporary Company Sergeant Major with the 4th King’s Liverpools. After the war he worked for Greenhall Whitley for 40 years, despite being tee total himself.

Alf wrote his memoirs as a reasonably (I say this with the realisation that this reviewer is not that much younger!!) elderly man (78-9). He was one of those who never spoke about the war, except in his dreams, so we must be aware that memory deceives as time goes on. My ‘own’ Old Contemptible, Basil Farrer, frequently used to say “Old men forget”. Judging by the difficulties of transcribing and editing Alf’s memoirs, I think it is fair to say that Alf’s ability as a writer was limited by the education he received at the time. At times reading this book, I wondered about how certain events seemed to have happened. In spite of all, this is a very lively memoir that is worth a read as Alf’s experiences were obviously the same as many others; but at the same time not, because of his running abilities and the help and care he tried to give to alleviate the suffering of some French families marooned by the fortunes of war. And yes, don’t let us forget about Drummy the dog, discovered in a German trench! You will have to read the book……….

Barbara Taylor