Arthur Henry “Harry” Frampton was born in 1882, the oldest of six children to Henry and Alice. Henry Sr worked as a clerk and cashier in a shoe factory in Bridgwater, while Harry and his brothers also initially followed that line of work.
In the autumn of 1908, Harry married Emma Jane Lee, who was originally from Crediton in Devon. The couple went on to have two children, Rose and John, and, by the time of the next census, the family were living in a small house in the middle of Bridgwater. Harry, by this time, was working as a general labourer.
War broke out, and Harry was quick to enlist. Initially assigned to the Somerset Light Infantry in December 1914, Private Frampton was transferred to the Royal Defence Corps after two years’ service.
He was part of the army’s territorial force, and it seems likely that his transfer to the RDC may have been on medical grounds. He had been admitted to Castlemount Military Hospital (in Dover) a couple of times, suffering from “rheumatism and debility”.
Private Frampton’s later medical report stated that he was a frail man, with an accentuated heartbeat, which gave rise to fainting. He had no appetite and suffered from insomnia, and, according to the report, was “quite unfit to perform the duties of a soldier”.
Ultimately, this led to Harry being medically discharged from the army, and he was demobbed on 10th March 1917, after just over two years’ service.
Little is known about Harry after his discharge form the army. His pension record confirms that he passed away on 26th October 1919, having suffered from dyspepsia (indigestion) and debility. He was 37 years old.
Harry Frampton lies at rest in the St John’s Cemetery in his home town of Bridgwater, Somerset.
George Edmund Millard was born in 1887, one of seven children to Edmund and Annie Millard, from Bridgwater, Somerset. Edmund was an engineer by trade, something George’s elder brother followed him into.
Sadly, little of George’s life remains documented. He enlisted in the Royal Navy, in January 1915, working as an Engine Room Artificer (or engineer). Stationed in Kent, his initial training was at HMS Pembroke II base on the Isle of Sheppey.
Artificer Millard spent nine months on HMS Dido, which formed part of the Royal Navy’s force based in Harwich. At start of 1916, he was transferred back to HMS Pembroke II. This may have been for health reasons, as he was subsequently discharged with tuberculosis in April.
George’s records finish there, and it is likely that he succumbed to his lung condition after an 18-month fight. He died at home in Bridgwater on 26th January 1918, aged 21 years old.
George Edmund Millard lies at rest in the family grave at the Wembdon Road Cemetery in his home town of Bridgwater.
William Charles Manning – known as Willie – was born in Bridgwater in 1890, one of ten children to Samuel and Emily Manning. Samuel was a cabinet maker, and at least of three of his sons, Willie included, went into the family business.
There is little information available on Willie’s life, but he married Nellie Dodden, also from Bridgwater, in November 1915. Sadly, this was around the time that Nellie’s father passed away; tragedy for Nellie was still close by.
Willie’s military records are minimal, although details of his passing can be determined from the subsequent newspaper report.
He had enlisted in the Royal Flying Corps around October 1915, certainly around the time he and Nellie married. He was an air mechanic, something his woodworking skills probably drew him to and was based at Manston Airfield in Kent.
On 8th July 1916, Willie was a passenger in a flight piloted by Lieutenant Bidie. It seems that Bidie was turning the plane while at low altitude, while attempting to land. The plane crashed, and both Bidie and Willie were killed. Air Mechanic Manning was just 25 years old.
William Charles Manning lies at rest in the Wembdon Road Cemetery in his home town of Bridgwater, Somerset.
Edward Lionel Gane was born in 1899 and was one of eight children. Known as Lionel, he was the son of Edwin and Joanna Gane, and lived in the quiet Somerset village of Ditcheat. Edwin began life as a pig dealer, but by the time of the 1911 census, had changed direction and become an insurance agent.
Joanna passed away in 1915, and this may have been the impetus Lionel needed to find his way in the world. He enlisted in the Wiltshire Regiment, joining the 3rd (Reserve) Battalion of the Duke of Edinburgh’s brigade.
The battalion – a depot and training unit – were initially based in Devizes, before moving to Dorset and then Kent. While there is no confirmation of when Private Gane enlisted, it would have been by September 1917, which is when the battalion became part of the Thames & Medway Garrison.
The end of the war marked another ending for the Gane family. Edwin passed away on Armistice Day – 11th November – and further tragedy was to follow, as Private Gane contracted influenza and died less than two weeks later.
Edward Lionel Gane died in a military hospital in Malling, Kent, on 24th November 1918. He was just 19 years old. He lies at rest in the graveyard of St Mary’s Church in his home village of Ditcheat.
Frederick John Edward Pullen was born in May 1899, the only son to Albert and Bessie Pullen from Shepton Mallet in Somerset. Albert worked at the local prison, acting as clerk, warden and school master to the inmates.
Little else survives to expand on Fred’s military life; his gravestone confirms that he had enlisted in the Royal Flying Corps and, although no date can be attributed to this, it is likely to have been almost as soon as he turned 17.
A report of the young man’s funeral does give a little insight into the young man.
…before entering the service of his country, Lieutenant Pullen was in the Civil Service, and a letter from his late surveyor at Oxford, speaks in high terms of his character and abilities.
He graduated to the rank of Service Pilot in February last, and was gazetted in March. By the Naval authorities he was considered a very good pilot, and was graded as Class A (exemplary).
Shepton Mallet Journal: Friday 5th April 1918
Alongside the Edwardian trait of listing the chief mourners and floral tributes, the newspaper also gives an in-depth report of the cause of Second Lieutenant Pullen’s demise.
The brave young office, who was at a war school [Manston Airfield, Kent], was engaged in ‘stunting’ or trick flying, absolutely necessary in warfare, when from some unknown cause, he fell into a field, and was instantly killed.
A farmer who was ploughing near the spot said he was not conscious of the presence of an aeroplane in the vicinity till this one seemed to drop from the clouds. It nose-dived, but righted on coming near the earth, and seemed to swoop up again, but before going far turned turtle and fell, upside down.
The poor lad was found crushed beneath his gun, and had met instantaneous death. Letters received from witnesses of the accident stated that people living in the neighbourhood hurried to the spot with remedies of all sorts, and were much saddened to find that nothing that they could do was of any avail.
Shepton Mallet Journal: Friday 5th April 1918
Second Lieutenant Pullen met his death in a flying accident on 26th March 1918. He was just 18 years old.
Frederick John Edward Pullen lies at rest in the cemetery of his home town of Shepton Mallet.
Second Lieutenant Fred Pullen (courtesy of findagrave.com)
Harry George King was born in Somerset in December 1894, one of nine children to John and Sarah King. John worked as a cabinet maker in Wells, and Harry followed in a similar vein to his father, becoming an upholsterer.
When war broke out, Harry – who stood at 5’3″ (1.6m) tall – enlisted in the Royal Navy as a Cook’s Mate. He trained on HMS Victory I in Portsmouth, before transferring to the HMV Vernon, a land-based ship, also in Portsmouth.
While on leave in 1917, Harry married Alice Trickey, who had also been born in Wells.
Harry’s first sea-going assignment was on the HMS Hermione, which was a guard ship off the Southampton coast. After two years on board, Cook’s Mate King was transferred to another vessel.
The HMS Glatton was a monitor vessel requisitioned by the Royal Navy from the Norwegian fleet at the outbreak of the First World War. After a lengthy refit, she was finally ready for service in the autumn of 1918, and positioned in Dover in preparation for a future offensive across the Channel.
At 6:15 on the evening of 16 September, there was a small explosion in a 6-inch magazine below decks, which then ignited the cordite stored there. Flames shot through the roof of one of the turrets and started to spread. The fire was not able to be brought under control, and there were concerns that, if the ship’s rear magazine exploded, the presence of the ammunition ship Gransha only 150 yards (140 m) away risked a massive explosion that would devastate Dover itself. The decision was taken to torpedo the Glatton, in the hope that the incoming flood water would quash the fire.
In the event, sixty men aboard the Glatton were killed outright, with another 124 men injured, of whom 19 died later of their injuries. This included Cook’s Mate King.
While the incident wasn’t reported in the media of the time, Harry’s funeral was; it gives a little more insight into the tragedy.
News reached Wells… that 1st Class Cook’s Mate Harry George King… was lying in a hospital at Dover suffering from severe burns caused through an internal explosion on the ship on which he was serving. His wife (…to whom he was married 12 months ago) and his sister at once proceeded to the hospital, where they arrived only a few minutes before he died.
The unfortunate young man had sustained shocking injuries and was conscious for only two hours on Friday. He lost all his belongings in the explosion.
Wells Journal: Friday 27th September 1918.
Harry George King was only 27 years old when he died. He lies at rest in Wells Cemetery, Somerset.
Harry’s widow, Alice, did not remarry; the couple had not had any children, and she passed away in their home town of Wells, in January 1974.
There are some times where no amount of research on a person will reveal their information.
William George Allen is one such person.
The only details I have been able to uncover for this man is his gravestone and the Army Register of Soldier’s Effects.
William Allen was a driver for the Royal Field Artillery. His troop – the 156th Camberwell Brigade – was raised in South London in early 1915, although I have no record of when Driver Allen enlisted.
At some point, the 156th Brigade were stationed at Port Victoria – the fort on the Isle of Grain in Kent.
It was during their time at the fort that William died. He passed on 7th August 1916 and there is no cause of death recorded, and he does not appear in any contemporary newspapers. This might suggest that his death was not out of the ordinary or unexpected.
Unusually for the Register of Soldier’s Effects, nobody is listed for the war gratuity payments to be made (this would normally be a next of kin – father, mother or spouse). In total a payment of £6 19s 2d was paid out, not an extravagant amount for that regiment.
So Driver Allen remains a mystery. A (presumably) young life lost too soon, and lost to time.
William George Allen lies at peace in the graveyard of St James’ Church in Grain, North Kent, metres from the fort in which he passed.
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?
What I have discovered while researching the Commonwealth War Graves, is that, despite the general themes I find, the people behind the names always have an individual story to tell. Sometimes that story raises an eyebrow, or produces a gasp.
Such was the story of Private Harry Pullen.
What raised the eyebrow? Two words, written on the Army Records of Soldiers’ Effects.
Accidentally Drowned.
Harry Pullen was born in Shirehampton, Gloucestershire in 1886. His father, Robert Edward Pullen, was a carpenter; he and his wife Hannah Presulga Cissy Pullen had three other children, Gwendoline, Herbert and John.
By the time of the 1901 census, Robert is boarding in a house in Bristol with his three sons; Hannah and Gwendoline are not listed (nor do they appear on any other census records I have been able to locate).
Harry is listed as a Telegraph Boy, as is his brother Herbert, but he seemed to have wanted to take up a trade; by 1910 he had moved up to London.
In March of that year, Harry married Harriet Critchell, a spinster fifteen years his senior. On their marriage records for Christ Church, St Pancras, Harry lists himself as a tradesman. The census a year later confirms this – head of the household, he is an Agent for the Provident Clothing Supply Company. (Founded in Bradford, West Yorkshire, Provident’s mission was to help working-class families provide for themselves through the use of vouchers. These were exchanged for goods in local shops, and paid for in affordable instalments.)
Harry enlisted at some point after 1916. His regiment, the 1st (Reserve) Garrison Battalion of the Suffolk Regiment, was not formed until March of that year, and, after starting in Buckinghamshire, it moved to Tilbury in Essex and Gravesend in Kent. The battalion was finally settled in Grain, North Kent in 1918, and it was here that he served.
Here the trail goes frustratingly cold…
Private Pullen’s enlistment and service records are not available, so research is limited to the Army Register of Soldier’s Effects and the Pension Ledgers.
All we have about his death are those two words – Accidental Drowning. There are no contemporary news reports of his passing, which you might expect given the circumstances, so the circumstances surrounding his death are elusive.
Private Pullen died on 10th July 1918. He was 31 years old.
His records confirm that Harriet was entitled to a weekly pension of 15s for the duration of the war and twelves months after.
Harry Pullen is buried in the graveyard of St James’ Church in Grain, Kent, close to where he was stationed.
Death and Service 