William Cottrell was born in April 1885, the third of twelve children to Henry and Annie Cottrell from Bampton, Devon. When William left school, he became an assistant to the village baker, but new opportunities lay ahead.
In May 1907, William married Maria Wall, the daughter of a stonemason from Wedmore in Somerset. With weeks, the young couple had embarked for a new life, boarding the Empress of Britain in Liverpool, setting sail for Canada.
Emigrating to Manitoba, William became a labourer, and he and Maria had three children – Leslie, Ronald and Kathleen.
War came, and William enlisted in the Canadian Expeditionary Force in August 1915. Shipped to England in the spring of the following year, Annie followed suit, returning to Somerset with the three children.
Private Cottrell was assigned to the 44th Battalion Canadian Infantry, setting off for France in August 1916, just weeks before his fourth child – Ruby – was born.
The battalion was involved in some of the fiercest fighting of the war, and it was during the Somme Offensive that William was shot in the left arm. Initially treated in the field, he was soon shipped back to England to recover in a military hospital in Epsom. Discharged after three months, he was returned to his battalion in early 1917.
The fierce fighting continued, and Private Cottrell was wounded again in October 1918. Further treatment back in the UK was needed, and he was admitted to the 1st Eastern General Hospital in Cambridge.
Details of the William’s injuries at the Somme are readily available, but information on his second lot of injuries is scarcer. They must have been pretty severe, however, as he was not discharged. He lost his final battle after four months, succumbing to his wounds on 9th January 1919. He was 33 years old.
William Cottrell lies at rest in the graveyard of St Mary’s Church in his widow’s home village of Wedmore, Somerset.
William’s gravestone is also a memorial to his eldest son, Leslie, who was killed during the Second World War.
Details of his military service are sketchy, but he enlisted in the Queen’s Own Royal West Kent Regiment. His battalion – the 1st – was involved in the fighting in Italy, and it was here that he lost his life. He was killed on 8th February 1944 and is buried in the Sangro River War Cemetery, in Abruzzo.
James Patch was born in 1882, the third of four children – all boys – to Albert and Jane. Albert was a farm labourer in the village of Meare, Somerset, and this is something that, once leaving school, the Patch boys also went into.
Albert passed away in 1904, so James stepped up and stayed living with his mother. By the time of the 1911 census, they were living near the Grape Vine Pub in Meare, both working as agricultural labourers, and had a John Lee boarding with them.
No firm details remain of James’ military service, although it is evident that he enlisted in the Devonshire Regiment and, from the Army Register of Soldiers’ Effects, this can be narrowed down to the 7th Infantry Works Company.
While Private Patch’s military records are sparse, his name crops up a lot in the newspapers around the time of his death, with headlines like “Mysterious Death of Meare Soldier”.
On the evening of the 25th March 1917, James was found lying across the tram tracks in Horfield, a suburb to the north of Bristol. He was in a semi-conscious state, and was taken to the nearby barracks.
An inquest was held and the story unfolded.
Witness statements confirmed that Private Patch was on a tram and had asked the conductress to let him know when they reached the barracks. The tram halted at the allotted stop, but, when nobody alighted, the driver started up again.
James apparently asked the conductress if that had been the stop for Horfield Barracks and, having confirmed that it was, and that he had wanted to get off there, she pressed the bell for the driver to pull up at the next stop. She then went up to the top deck of the tram, and it appear that James had decided he couldn’t wait for the next stop and jumped off the moving tram.
It seems that James fell from the tram and hit his head when he landed; this was when a passer-by found him.
The morning after his fall, the camp doctor identified the extent of James’ injury and he was moved from the barracks to the Royal Infirmary in Bristol. Private Patch died an hour after being admitted, having suffered an extensive fracture of the skull. He was 35 years of age.
The inquest into his death returned a verdict of “accidental death, due to a fall from a tram-car, caused by stepping from the car while in motion”.
James Patch lies at rest in the ground of the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary and All Saints in his home village of Meare in Somerset.
Born in September 1896, John Russell was one of thirteen children to Henry and Ellen Russell. Henry worked as a turf cutter on the Somerset levels, and the family lived in the village of Meare, near Glastonbury.
By the time of the 1911 census, John, aged 15, had left school and joined his father’s business.
When war broke out, John joined up; sadly, his military records are absent, but what we do know for certain is that he enlisted in the West Somerset Yeomanry, and was based at the Stanway Camp near Colchester in Essex.
Sadly, much is written of Private Russell’s death. He was acting as a sentry at the camp on the morning of Tuesday 19th October 1915 when he was hit by a car; taken to the military hospital in Colchester, he passed away the following morning.
An inquest was held into the incident, and the following was ascertained:
Vera Coysh, aged 19, was driving near the camp with two friends and her gardener; as she was approaching the entrance, a horse-drawn military wagon ahead of her turned and she swerved to avoid it. In doing so, she hit Private Russell “and carried him some way along the ground”.
John’s injuries were significant. When admitted to hospital, he “was suffering from bruises on the back of the head and haemorrhage from the right ear and nose. His left hand and the lower part of his left arm were swollen from bruising. He was semi-conscious and restless…”
The inquest identified some discrepancies in what happened.
Witnesses in the military wagon and a second one following it all saw a turning signal being given, although not necessarily in time for Vera to slow down or stop. All of the army witnesses stated that she was driving at a quick speed, possibly as much as 35mph.
Vera and her passengers all stated that they saw no signal, saying that the wagon pulled across without indication. They also stated that they were not travelling at speed.
The inquest was a lengthy one, but the final verdict was one of accidental death, with a recommendation that signs were put up on the road to warn of the entrance to the camp.
John Russell was just 19 years old when he died. He was laid to rest in the graveyard of the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary and All Saints in his home village of Meare, Somerset.
It’s worth also having a look into the life of the driver of that fated motor car.
Vera Murdoch Coysh was born in September 1896, the eldest child of Commander William Henry Coysh and his wife Beatrice Murdoch. The family lived in Yorkshire and, by the time of the incident, William and Beatrice had had four other children – Humphrey Cecil (who became a Commander), Geoffrey Ernest (who went on to be Sub Lieutenant), John William and Barbara Daphne.
Three months after the accident, Vera married Second Lieutenant Trevor Davidson, of the Essex Regiment, and the couple soon emigrated to Mozambique.
All was not well, however, as, by 1924, Vera has moved back to England, the couple had divorced and she had remarried, to a Douglas Stuart-Jervis. The couple went on to have two children.
Meanwhile, Vera was also making a bit of a name for herself in the literary world, writing a number of novels under the name of Jane England. While rarely seen nowadays, she wrote books with such ‘pulp fiction’ titles as Red Earth, Romantic Stranger, Flowering Harvest, Stormy Passage and Winter Jasmine.
It’s bittersweet to see that Vera made a life for herself, in the way that John Russell was sadly unable to.
Harold Cook was born in February 1899, the youngest of nine children to George and Amelia Cook from the Somerset town of Street. George worked as a bootmaker, presumably for the Clark’s factory in the town.
Harold lost his mother at a young age; Amelia passed away in 1901, aged just 41 years old.
By the time of the 1911 census, George, his two older sons – Maurice and George Jr – and his four daughters – Beatrice, Florence, Alice and Gladys – were all employed by the factory. In fact, the only member of the family not employed by Clark’s was Harold himself, who was still at school.
Harold’s military records are not available, but, from the information I have been able to gather, it appears that he enlisted as soon as his age allowed. He joined the Suffolk Regiment, and was in training when an accident occurred.
The local newspaper – the Central Somerset Gazette – picks up his story:
It appears that about 11pm on August 24th [Private Cook was] in bed and suddenly got up, saying he was lying on something. This proved to be the oil bottle of his rifle and he said he would put it away. He got hold of his rifle and turned it muzzle downwards in order to put the oil bottle in the butt. When he closed the butt-trap the rifle went off.
He at once exclaimed “Who put the safety catch forward?”. Corporal Butler and [Private Johnson] then bandaged Private Cook’s foot (which was drilled clean through) and he was taken away at once.
From subsequent evidence by the Adjutant, it transpired than the rifle had been faultily loaded and that the safety catch had been broken.
Deceased had received every possible attention at the American Hospital in Cambridge, but his leg had to be amputated and subsequently septicaemia set in and to this he succumbed.
The jury, in accordance with the Coroner’s summing up, returned a verdict of “Accidental Death.”
Central Somerset Gazette: Friday 19th October 1917
Private Cook died on 4th October 1917, aged just 18 years old.
His body was brought back to his home town of Street and he lies at rest in the local cemetery.
William Joseph Dawbin was born on 23rd April 1888, in Yeovil, Somerset. He was the oldest of three children to William and Julianna Dawbin, a farming family.
In 1897, when William Jr was 9 years old, the family emigrated to New Zealand, settling in the town of Feilding, 100miles (150km) north of Wellington.
William enlisted in 1905, joining the Wellington Mounted Rifles for a five-year term of service, and being promoted to the rank of Corporal. He re-enlisted on 14th August 1914, and the troop departed New Zealand for Europe a month later.
Trooper Dawbin arrived in Alexandria, Egypt on 3rd December, from where they travelled to Cairo for training. Initially planning on becoming involved in the defence of the Suez Canal, on 14th April 1915, William and his battalion landed in Gallipoli, to support the invasion there.
History knows that the fighting in this battle was some of the fiercest of the Great War. History also tells us that this campaign resulted in huge losses for the Anzac troops, including the Wellington Mounted Rifles. Sadly, Trooper Dawbin was not to escape injury.
On 27th May 1915, he received a gunshot wound to the back, fracturing his spine. He was evacuated by hospital ship back to Egypt, and, suffering from paralysis, was shipped back to England ten days later.
Trooper Dawbin was admitted to the Netley Hospital in Southampton, but his wounds appeared too severe; he died there on 22nd August 1915. He was 27 years old.
William Joseph Dawbin lies at peace in the quiet churchyard of St Andrew’s, in the village of Compton Dundon, Somerset, not far from extended family in Butleigh.
Francis George Richards (or Frank) was born in 1889, the oldest of five children to William and Rhoda Richards. William was an agricultural labourer and the family lived in his home village of Long Sutton in Somerset.
Frank followed his father into agriculture, and, by the 1911 census, was working as a carter.
And that is where the trail of Private Richards goes cold.
What records do exist confirm that he enlisted in the Wiltshire Regiment, serving at its depot in Devizes. This suggests he was part of the 7th (Service) Battalion, raised through the Kitchener Scheme.
The battalion were shipped to France in September 1915, before being moved on to the Balkans, where they fought in the Battle of Horseshoe Hill and the Battles of Dorian. As there are no records of Private Richards’ service, it is not possible to confirm how involved in the fighting in Europe he was, or whether he remained on the Home Front.
Frank’s death also remains a mystery. All that can be said for sure is that he died in hospital on 11th April 1917, in a hospital in England. He was 27 years old. He does not appear to have married, and his pension was assigned to his father.
Frank George Richards lies at rest in the quiet graveyard of Holy Trinity Church in his home village of Long Sutton.
Frank Antell was born in 1880, one of seven children – six sons – to Thomas and Harriett Antell. Thomas was a groom, and Harriett a dressmaker and the family lived in the village of Martock in Somerset.
After Thomas died in 1893, Frank left school and became a carpenter. By the time of the 1901 census, he was living with his mother and youngest brother. Income seems to have been short – there were three other people boarding and lodging with the family.
In August 1904, Frank married Augusta Ring, and together they had five children – Lily, Ada, Leslie, Ronald and Freda.
Frank enlisted in the 13th (Works) Battalion of the Devonshire Regiment; this had been formed in the summer of 1916, so it can only be assumed that he was called up at the start. The battalion was based in Plymouth, so it is likely that Private Antell did not see fighting on the Western Front.
Private Frank Antell’s death is also a bit of a mystery. All that there is to confirm what happened is one stark sentence on his pension ledger:
Wounds self-inflicted during temporary insanity whilst on active service.
This one statement covers a multitude of sins, but does nothing to explain the mystery of what happened. There is no coverage of the incident or funeral in contemporary newspapers, so I have been unable to find any further explanation.
Frank Antell was a man with a young family. His regiment was based in England and was to be so for the duration of the war. One cannot imagine what thoughts were going through his head at the time he took his own life. That the 37 year old felt this was his only option is tragic.
Frank Antell lies at rest in the graveyard of All Saints’ Church in his home village of Martock in Somerset.
Frank’s widow Augusta went on to marry again in 1919, to a Joseph Maunder. She died in 1951 at the age of 73 years old.
Percy Norris was born in 1894, the youngest of eleven children to William and Julia Norris. William was the caretaker for the water works in Somerton, Somerset, and this is where the family of eleven lived.
By the time of the 1911 census, Percy’s older brother Henry had joined his father at the water works. Julia had passed away five years before, and Percy and three of his siblings continued to live with William. At this point Percy was working as a gardener.
Private Norris’ full military records are not readily available, but it is evident that he enlisted in the 7th Battalion of the Wiltshire Regiment. This was a service troop, formed in 1914, who saw service in France and the Balkans.
It seems that it was during one of the skirmishes that Private Norris was injured. While there is no confirmation of exactly when or where this happened, it is likely to have been at some point in the spring of 1918. Percy was shipped back the England for treatment, and admitted to the Red Cross Hospital in Bridgwater, Somerset.
Sadly, Private Norris did not recover from his injuries. He passed away on 5th April 1918, aged 24 years old.
Percy lies at rest in the cemetery of Somerton, his home town.
Percy’s older brother Henry Norris also died in the Great War. Joining the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserves, Able Seaman Norris was also wounded on active duty, dying of his injuries in January 1918, aged 32. He is buried at the St Sever Cemetery in Rouen, France.
John Henry Armes was born in Cannock, Staffordshire in 1881. One of eight children to Richard and Mary Armes, his father was a colliery worker and labourer. After their mother’s untimely death in 1890, this was a trade into which his three boys – Richard Jr, John and Alfred – followed.
The 1901 census finds John living with his widowed father and working as a coal hewer. A year later, he married Caroline Caldwell and, by the outbreak of the war, the couple were living in Ilkeston, Derbyshire with their growing family of seven children.
Records of John’s enrolment are not evident, but it is likely to have been later in the war, rather than earlier, given that his trade was one of those protected from enlistment.
By 1915, Caroline had given birth to the couple’s seventh child and John had signed up to the King’s Royal Rifles, stationed at the fort in Grain, North Kent.
Rifleman Armes’ pension record shows that he was accidentally killed on active service, and the contemporary media pick up the story.
[He] had been on outpost duty. On coming off duty about half-past seven on Monday morning he placed his rifle in a rack in a hut, and went to breakfast. Another rifleman names John Bathams Olliff, picked up the rifle to unload it, but having trouble with the extractor he took the magazine of the rifle out, and then thinking all the cartridges were in the magazine he pressed the trigger to close the bolt of the rifle, and a shot went off. At that moment Rifleman Armes came round the door of the hut and received a bullet in the chest.
Exclaiming, “My God, Armes is here,” Olliff rushed to his assistance, and Armes said “I am done for. It was an accident.” Medical aid was telephoned for, but Armes died shortly after the doctor arrived.
Est Kent Gazette: Saturday 5th February 1916
An inquest was held, which found that the two Johns were great friends and had asked to serve together. The jury exonerated John Olliff from blame and recorded a verdict of accidental death.
John Henry Armes died at the age of 34, likely without seeing his youngest child. He lies at rest in St James’ Churchyard in the village of Grain in Kent, close to the barracks where he lost his life.
There are a couple of other protagonists in this story.
John’s widow, Caroline, married again later in 1916, to a George Chapman. She went on to live to the age of 77, outliving three of her children and both of her husbands.
John Battams Olliff, who had accidentally shot John, was born in London in 1880. The son of a butcher, he had emigrated to Canada in 1911. John returned to the UK to fight in the war, joining the King’s Royal Rifles in May 1915. Little information about his post-war survives, but it appears that he remained in England. There is no record of him marrying, but he died in 1938, at 58 years old.
When carrying out research on the Commonwealth War Graves, information remains tantalisingly elusive.
Sometimes just you can chance upon one document and the life of the person behind the name is laid out in front of you.
But in the majority of cases, the someone’s history has to be pieced together from a combination of sources.
Henry Harry Trevitic was born in around 1879 in Burton-upon-Trent, Staffordshire.
There are no records of Trevetics in and around that area at that time, nor are there any permutations of his surname – Trevethick or Trevithick, for example.
The first evidence I have found of Harry is on his military service records. He enlisted in the King’s Royal Rifles in August 1897, listing himself as a ‘cycle fitter’. The document asks if the applicant has previously served in the armed forces; Harry’s reply is that he is in the militia – the 4th Worcestershire Regiment.
Rifleman Trevetic’s military career is extensive; his records show continual service in the King’s Royal Rifles from 1897 to his death in 1915. This included three years in South Africa, two in India and eight months as part of the British Expeditionary Force within weeks of the outbreak of World War One.
The 1901 census finds Rifleman Trevetic at a convalescent home in Hanbury, near Droitwich, along with eleven other soldiers. He is marked as a Visitor, rather than a Resident, so it can be assumed that the owner of the home, whose brother is party of the military party, has put them up for the night (or longer).
Harry next turns up in 1902 when, in December, he married Frances Boyes in Southampton. His military career continued, however, and moving to the 1911 census, and Rifleman Trevetic is barracked in Woolwich. He is listed as married, while Frances is also based in the town, in female quarters.
While the details of his early life are pretty scarce, those surrounding his passing are much more in depth. Because of the circumstances, an inquest into his passing was ordered into his death; this included four pretty in-depth witness statements.
In January 1914, Rifleman Trevetic was appointed as an assistant to Captain Adjutant Makins in Winchester. In August of that year he was shipped with Makins to France and remained his servant.
On 14th September, Captain Makins was badly injured, and Harry helped carry him to the church in the village of Soupir in France, which was acting as a dressing station.
In Makins’ own words “there were 300 wounded closely packed, occupying the whole of the floor space. The groans and the smell, night and day were most distressing. Fresh wounded were constantly being carried in and dead carried out. Shell fire was constant and the general conditions were such as would severely try a highly strung man. During all this time, [Rifleman Trevetic] was my only attendant.”
Makins was moved to various hospitals in France, always accompanied by Rifleman Trevetic and eventually invalided home. Given the seriousness of Captain Makins’ injury, he was permitted to bring Harry back home with him.
On 1st March 1915, Captain Makins was passed fit for general service, and rejoined his battalion, along with his servant. Conscious that he may be sent back to the Front at any point, he warned Harry to be prepared for France again.
Captain Makins’ testimony takes up the tragic story.
On March 9th, he came to me and asked if I would see the Doctor on his behalf privately. He told me that every since his time in the dressing station at Soupir, his nerves had been ajar, and that he could neither eat nor sleep. He asked whether I could get the Doctor to do something for him, as he feared if he went sick in the ordinary way, he would be passed unfit for the front, and be unable to accompany me there, which he was very keen on doing.
Later in the day he came to me and asked me to take no notice of what he had said in the morning, that as a matter of fact he had taken to drink, which was the true cause of his trouble, and that he was entirely giving it up and would be right within a week.
His whole manner was strange and he appeared under the impression that I had discharged him. This was the first intimation I had of any strangeness in his manner.
Being busy I did not pay the attention to it that perhaps I should, more especially as I knew him to be a thoroughly sober and reliable man.
The following day he called me as usual.
About 8:30 am I was called from the mess and asked to proceed to my room at once. On arrival, I found the door locked, and various Officers’ servants outside. The key was on the inside of the door but so turned that the body of Rifleman Trevetic could be seen through the keyhole lying on the floor.
I broke open the door and found Rifleman Trevetic shot through the heart, my revolver lying by his side. The revolver contained one empty shell, I cannot say where this was obtained. There were a few rounds of ammunition in the room, but the marks did not correspond nor am I able to trace any similar ammunition in the Fort.
Captain G Makins’ statement, Inquest from Rifleman Trevetic’s service records
Three other servicemen gave statements into the tragic events of that day, and all summed up Harry’s demeanour in the same way as Captain Makins.
Rifleman Trevetic has throughout his service to me, been a model servant, and had during my time in hospital not only been invaluable to me, but also to the hospitals themselves. He was very happily married, and constantly spoke affectionately of his wife and as far as I can tell, was in no financial difficulties.
Captain G Makins’ statement, Inquest from Rifleman Trevetic’s service records
The inquest found that his death was self-inflicted and “at the time he shot himself he was temporarily insane, and that his mental condition was clearly caused by what he saw and went through when on Active Service in France, and that there was no other contributory cause.”
Temporary insanity, shell shock, war neurosis, combat stress, cowardice; however it was badged Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is commonly recognised these days, but was frowned upon in the Great War.
Sadly, while appearing eager to accompany his superior, it seems that the thought of actually returning to the Western Front was so terrifying to Rifleman Trevetic, that he felt there was only one route out. He was 36 years old.
Harry Trevetic lies at rest in the quiet graveyard of St James’ Church on the Isle of Grain, metres from the fort where he ended his life.
Harry’s widow Frances lived on. Whilst there was no mention of her husband’s death in the newspapers of the time, she received a handsome war gratuity and a pension that reflected Harry’s long service. She went on to marry again in 1917, to Jack Finch, a Sergeant in Harry’s battalion.
Given the stigma around mental health in the early twentieth century, and, it is amazing that the documents have survived as part of the Harry’s military records. The inquest into his death was carried out within days of his passing, and I find the findings of the report forward thinking in the way that it was written.
Harry was obviously a man who experienced way more than his mind was able to cope with – the trauma of that dressing station must have been so much worse than he had seen before during his two decades’ military service. But the report is clear in that it apportions blame for his death on the fighting and bloodshed in France; this was clearly out of character for Harry, and it was his experiences in the field of battle that drove him to his death.
What is less clear is how much Frances was told of his death. While the inquest was decisive, suicide was as much of a stigma as shell shock at that time. Would the King’s Royal Rifles have be honest with her about how he died? Or, while they where internally open, would they have pulled ranks around their own and protected Frances from the truth and themselves from rebuke?
Death and Service 