Dad and The Dirty Half Hundred

 

At 2:30 am on this day seventy-seven years ago my father was facing another screaming attack by Japanese soldiers around a garrison set up on the grounds of a Deputy Commissioner's bungalow in India. It was overlooked by a series of small hills near the town of Kohima. Along with his regiment, he was involved in a siege that lasted a fortnight. It involved fighting described as 'desperate as any recorded in history.'

Most people have never heard of the Siege of Kohima. Probably because it was fought by men involved in the Burma campaign, 'the forgotten army', whose story has never been given the glitzy Holywood treatment, like many military events of WWII.  It was hardly reported at the time, the people of Britain were facing enough perils of their own, yet two Victoria crosses were awarded and Lord Mountbatten described it as one of the greatest battles in history.

Those that have read my recent book will know that my father, Samuel Wait 614883 was flown to Imphal with the rest of the 161 Brigade when the Japanese launched a major offensive to invade India. At Kohima, the Japanese hurled three infantry regiments, of over 6,000 men at the Fourth Battalion of the Royal West Kents. Together with what they called the 'odds and sods' the West Kents, known as "The Dirty Half Hundred," formed a scratch garrison of approximately 1,500. So began the siege of Kohima, one of the pivotal fights of the war against Japan.

The siege, which a Japanese colonel would later call, 'that great bitter battle', lasted for a fortnight, with hand-to-hand combat, fierce and ruthless, by 'filthy bedraggled, worn-out men, whose lungs were rarely free of the noxious smell of decaying corpses inside and out the perimeter'. By the night of the 18th April 1944, the Japanese had cut the garrison in two with wave after wave of attacks. They were everywhere, in all the trenches and just one hundred yards from the Battalion Headquarters that held 600 hundred casualties.

If the Japanese were to achieve the great prize, the blooming rose of eastern India, they would first have to grasp the thorn of the hill station at Kohima. The Indian Official History records that the whole defence was about to crumble and the perimeter had been reduced to a little square with each side being no more than 350 yards. The tennis court became the front line between attacker and defender and where tennis balls had been idly lobbed, grenades whizzed back and forth across the width of the court.

When I asked dad how he felt during this siege, he replied, "I did not want to let my mates down".  His Commanding Officer, Major John Winstanley later explained that they had no idea that they were confronted by a whole Japanese division. But they had no thought of surrender at any level.

The garrison did not fall. The thin line of the West Kents held. On the morning of the 20th April, the Royal Berkshire Regiment relieved the garrison and witnessed little groups of grimy, bearded rifleman standing at the mouths of their bunkers and staring with bloodshot sleep-starved eyes. The siege was finally over. My father and the rest of the shattered West Kents went down the hill in two's and three's. They had fought and lived in trenches for almost a fortnight. For rest, they had thrown themselves on the ground with their boots on, ready to fight at a moments notice. 

This epic battle was a decisive turning point in the Burma Campaign. It demonstrated categorically that the Japanese were not invincible. Major General William Slim, Commander of the 14th Army later said that "sieges have been longer, but few have been more intense, and in none have the defenders deserved greater honour than the garrison of Kohima."

Today, the cemetery in Kohima is located exactly where the battle took place. There are two memorial crosses. One is dedicated to the Indian and Sikh soldiers, the other has the epitaph:

'When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say,

For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today.'

My father survived this horrific siege and remained in Burma fighting with the 14th Army until August 1946. By then, the Japanese had been driven out of Burma and surrendered. 

 

Blowing My Trumpet!

 

O.K time to blow my own trumpet! I recently received this from a client, regarding my research into his family tree:

“What can I say? This is an amazing piece of work, the detail is nothing short of incredible. My fathers side of the family has always been sketchy, but, thanks to you, it has all come to light. I can't thank you enough”.

Craig Robinson

My Dad’s Burma War

I have finally had a book published about my dad’s experiences in Burma during WWII. It has been a labour of love that has taken me over two years to complete.

Like many war veterans dad rarely spoke about his experiences with the ‘forgotten’ 14th Army. Thankfully, I did manage to jot down a few of his memories, until mum warned me that my questions were triggering his nightmares. After he passed away I ordered his military papers. But they contained almost unintelligible military abbreviations.

As a genealogist, we are taught to use prime and secondary sources whenever possible. So I located and researched his regimental diaries, deciphered the abbreviations and studied the Burma Campaign. Gradually it all came together and I found myself following in his footsteps. I can’t contain my pride in his bravery. His experiences in the Arakan attacking Razabil Fortress (along with Captain Tom Moore), the battle of the Admin Box, the Siege of Kohima, Imphal, the Race to Rangoon and so much more.

But to create this book I needed to reproduce old maps and various images. As this is a self-published book the formatting and editing was a major headache. But thanks to the incredible skill and hard work of my fiancee Jules, we were able to overcome this and get the book published. She never met my father but was pleased to contribute to his memory.

Dad fought with a ‘forgotten’ army. But now future generations of his family and friends will learn of his incredible bravery. 

If you would like a copy of this book please email me. 

 

In between researching the family history of my clients, I like to delve into my ancestry. This has resulted in several popular blog posts. So for this article, I have decided to travel back to the year 1763. During this period, George III purchased Buckingham Palace and made a Royal Proclamation limiting the expansion of the American colonies. But, I am going to focus on a particular wedding held in the East End of London. 

David Wait a carpenter of New Inn Yard, Shoreditch (c.1738-1793) and Eleanor Wait nee Rice (1737-1793) were my 5xGreat Grandparents and were married in the newly built Christ Church Spitalfields, in London’s East End on the 6th February 1763. Christ Church was one of the fifty churches urgently commissioned, with the backing of Queen Ann, through fear that the ‘godless thousands’ outside the City of London had no access to a nearby church.

I always get excited to see the signatures of my ancestors, this is often the only 'physical' thing they have left us, yet it can hold clues to the times they were living in and their personality. Today, the ability to read and write is accepted as normal. Being illiterate is regarded as shameful. During this time, literacy was considered a luxury. It would not be until the 1870s -1880s that education became compulsory. But, both David and Eleanor have signed the register confidently and with flourishes.

The parish register indicates that David Wait was from the parish of Spitalfields, but Eleanor was ‘of the Liberty of Norton Folgate’. This was land owned and originally occupied by the Priory and Hospital of St Mary Spital. Although the priory was dissolved in 1538 the area retained its status as extra-parochial liberty. Included in its particular boundary was White Lyon Yard, now Folgate Street where Eleanor and her family lived.

Eleanor Rice was baptised on the 9th March 1737 at St. Leonard’s Church, Shoreditch. Her parents were Walter Rice (1712-1749) a Glove Maker and Mary Rice nee Offin (b.1713) of White Lyon Yard, Norton Folgate. Surviving London Tax Records show that Walter Rice of Norton Folgate paid 16 shillings annually from 1743-1749.

Walter and Mary’s marriage took place in Fleet, London on 19th August 1734. Intriguingly, it was a ‘clandestine marriage’. Historians estimate that by the early 18th Century a third of all marriages were irregular or clandestine, with nearly half in London, performed at or around Fleet Prison. 

Although they complied with English Common Law and were valid, they were cheaper than a parish church wedding, did not need parental consent, banns were not read, could be held in secret and even backdated! They were banned by the Marriages Act of 1754.

So why did Walter and Mary have a ‘Fleet Wedding?

I have yet another mystery to solve.

Maria Frusher (1825-1887)

 

Over Christmas, Jules asked if I would research the Frusher side of her family. It soon became extremely interesting, particularly the life of her 3xGreat Grandmother, Maria Frusher (1825-1887). Maria’s life must have been exceptionally difficult - even for those times. She was a single woman who managed to raise three children in Doddington, a small village in Cambridgeshire. 

There is a local story told, that conditions were so hard in Doddington village, the local curate decided to live elsewhere.

Being unmarried, Maria no-doubt raised a few eyebrows in such a close-knit community. But, it was through her that the Frusher name has come down to Jules and her family. 

John Frusher, Maria’s father was an agricultural labourer and her grandfather, Peter Frusher (1743-1803), owned a farm in Doddington. But, even though I discovered the family on the census and other legal documents, I couldn’t find any record of Maria’s baptism or parish records for many members of her family.

The pieces of the puzzle eventually fell into place when I discovered that in 1825 the vicar of Whittlesey, in Cambridgeshire, baptised Maria with the surname Thresher! He also continued to register other family members with this surname. Was the vicar hard of hearing? Or was their broad Fenland accent hard for him to understand? Perhaps their Huguenot ancestry might have played a part? 

The family were likely illiterate. They were mainly farm labourers and shirt makers. As late as 1850, half the children in Britain did not attend school. So this branch of the Frusher family probably could not correct the miss-spelling of their surname. 

Whatever the reason for the mistake in Whittlesey parish records, the family line re-opened up for me and I have been able to continue following the Frusher's in Cambridgeshire. But as a family historian, it has taught me never to give up.

3 Cup Alley

 Two years before Charles Dickens’s published ‘A Cristmas Carol,’ my 4xGreat Grandfather John Wait (1797-1868) appeared on the 1841 Census with his wife and family. They were living in Three Cup Alley in Shoreditch, then part of Middlesex. 

I will never know if John Wait celebrated Christmas. His family might have eaten rabbit if they were lucky and drunk gin and beer, which was easier to obtain then fresh drinking water. Although he was a carpenter by trade, life was getting incredibly hard for him. His family seem to have been one step away from the workhouse. I have discovered in the ‘Poor Law and Settlement’ records that he had applied for Church Relief in October 1840 because his wife Jane was suffering with rheumatic fever.  Remarkably, Jane seems to have survived for another nine years. She was buried on 21st August 1849 at St. Leonard’s Church, Shoreditch.

The name Three Cups Alley has a quaint charm about it. But, in reality it was far from being a pleasantly old fashioned place. James Elmes in his, “A Topographical Dictionary of London” (1831) gives us a graphic description of it:

“The place alluded to is Three-Cup-Alley, Shoreditch, where shame to magistracy, and those in power, it excels in nastiness, its entrance is dark as Erebus , and the polluted smell that issues from the nauseous filth … The posterior parts of their dwelling. Are they not bestrewed with blood, offal and contaminated matter, from which an effluvia arises that darts through all the avenues of the brain, and maked the inhabitents wretched indeed.”

The area has changed considerably down the centuries. The alley first appears in John Rocques map of London in 1746 (shown). The north-south stretch was once known as George Street, while the grimmer east-west length was known as Three Cup Alley. With the construction of the railways in the 1860’s and 70’s most of the buildings were demolished - probably for the best.

Family Christmas

 

This was my family Christmas nearly sixty years ago. These are colourised photographs of my Nan’s house in London when nearly all my mum’s side of the family got together. In the first picture I am at the back in my dad’s arms holding a toy, my brother David is being held by my mum.

Above us is a cuckoo clock which absolutely fascinated me. I often called my nan (bottom right wearing glasses) ‘Nanny Cuckoo.’ She was truly a remarkable woman. How she managed to feed us all I will never know!

In the second photograph I am wearing a toy gun holster and looking half asleep. I think the journey from Kent in my Uncle John’s car (I can remember the smell of those leather seats) and all the excitement had worn me out.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year

 

In a year like no other, I have been lucky enough to continue researching for my clients. I love what I do, and there is nothing more pleasurable than introducing someone to their ancestors and taking them on a trip into their family history. To all my clients, past and present, I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

The Hidden Meaning of the 12 Days of Christmas

 

Who thought the12 Days of Christmas was just a song about an over-generous lover? In fact the lyrics reflect on a period of deep religious significance. As a family historian, I think it is important to understand the seasonal beliefs of our ancestors. For example, the Twelve Days of Christmas. Why 12 Days? The 12 Days were not the days running up to Christmas. Christians believe that the Twelve Days, or ‘Twelvetide’, of Christmas, mark the amount of time it took after the birth of Jesus for the magi, or wise men, to travel to Bethlehem for the Epiphany (January 6th) when they recognised Him as the son of God. Also, the 12 days honour a different feast or saint, before culminating in Twelfth Night. During this time there are celebrations both secular and religious.

The superstitions associated with this time, often relate to the specialness of this time of year and so bad luck befalls people who do not observe them. The twelve days of Christmas were ‘work-free’ and farmers would bring in there ploughs until ‘Plough Monday,’ when work would begin again. Failure to observe this would result in bad luck. 

It was also essential that fire, money or food, did not leave the house or ill fortune would befall the household. Borrowing fire was commonplace, as people took burning embers from neighbours hearths to light their fire, but during Yuletide, this would bring very bad luck. Equally the Yule log had to be kept alight for the twelve days; candles had to remain alight all night on Christmas Eve. It was also believed that a portion of the ‘plum-cake’ should be kept until New Years Day. It was traditionally served in slices that were toasted and soaked in spicy ale. My family would always eat a slice of Christmas Cake after the clock had struck midnight at the start of the New Year.

So what about the lyrics of the song? Well there are many interpretations of this chant or rhyme that possibly dates back as far as 1625.  Historians believe it started out as a ‘memory and forfeit’ game. It first appeared in print in 1780. This is one interpretation: 

1 True Love refers to God

2 Turtle Doves refers to the Old and New Testaments

3 French Hens refers to Faith, Hope and Charity, the Theological Virtues

4 Calling (more traditionally ‘Colly’) Birds refers to the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists

5 Golden Rings refers to the first Five Books of the Old Testament, the “Pentateuch”, which gives the history of man’s fall from grace.

6 Geese A-laying refers to the six days of creation

7 Swans A-swimming refers to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments

8 Maids A-milking refers to the eight beatitudes

9 Ladies Dancing refers to the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit

10 Lords A-leaping refers to the ten commandments

11 Pipers Piping refers to the eleven faithful apostles

12 Drummers Drumming refers to the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle’s Creed.

Oh yes! The Partridge in a Pear Tree? Some believe that the words were originally a catechism song for 16th century Catholics unable to practise their faith publicly and that the bird in the tree represented Christ on the cross. 

Merry Christmas

 

Stir-up Sunday

 

Today is 'stir-up Sunday'. Have you been stirring your Christmas pudding today? I have always enjoyed researching these ancient traditions. As a family historian I like to think it brings us a little closer to understanding the lives and beliefs of our ancestors. 

'Stir-up Sunday' is the traditional day to prepare your Christmas pudding and mincemeat for your mince pies. This gives the ingredients five weeks for the flavours to combine.

The last Sunday before advent was called 'stir-up Sunday' because of the simple Anglican prayer which was heard by church goers at this time of year and which coincided with making Christmas cakes and puddings: 

Stir up, Oh Lord we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may of thee be plenteously rewarded; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Advent was once a time of fasting and so making delicious and tempting food that was to be eaten at Christmas, the end of their fast, had great significance. Rituals such as having the entire household present and each stirring the pudding three times 'sun-wise' (east to west in honour of the three wise men who visited the baby Jesus) were followed, as was placing a silver 'joey', a threepenny bit, into the mixture in the belief that wealth would be bestowed to whoever bit into it on Christmas Day as the pudding was eaten.

There is speculation about the origins of Christmas pudding. In the Middle Ages, a Christmas porridge called Frumenty was popular and may be a savoury ancestor of the Christmas pudding. The recipe evolved over the years into plum pudding, containing dried fruits, eggs, breadcrumbs, and beers or spirits to increase its shelf life. In the 19th century, Prince Albert declared his love for the Christmas pudding and made it fashionable.

In its modern form as a dried fruit-based dessert, it would have been wrapped in a cloth and boiled. In earlier times it would have contained meat and been eaten at the start of the meal or alongside the meat. The cloth eventually gave way to basins and moulds, and now we tend to use a basin, which is considerably easier than a cloth.

The making of the pudding was only the beginning of its special treatment as on Christmas Day it will be set a flame by brandy being poured over it and carried into the family gathering with much ceremony.