I had felt a kind of loneliness, in amongst all that joyful and righteous patriotism. There didn’t seem any chance of America joining in. It wasn’t our scrap. I was a Yank from Baltimore, I was twenty-five years old and I hadn’t made any mark in the world since leaving school. There I’d been brilliant, especially in athletics, but afterwards I’d never managed anything much. My father was in shipping, and I was working in his office with a view to taking over when he eventually packed it in. There was no sign of that. If he lived to be a hundred he would still be in charge. I was chaffing for some action.
My fondest memory of the outbreak of the war, however, was the reaction of Mrs McCosh. I came to The Grampians the morning after the ultimatum ran out, and she was in a considerable tizz. She was wringing her hands in the drawing room, exclaiming, ‘We can’t possibly be at war with Germany, we just can’t, it’s not possible. The Kaiser is the grandson of the Queen!’
Of course she meant Queen Victoria, not Alexandra or Mary. By ‘the Queen’ she always meant Victoria, and the other two were referred to as ‘Queen Alexandra’ and ‘the present Queen’. She had a touching faith that royal alliances must inevitably prevent wars, unless someone along the line was mad. In retrospect I wonder if she was right; you’d have to be mad to plunge the whole of Europe into war quite deliberately. And the Kaiser was the son of the Princess Royal. He can’t have had any family-feeling at all.
Like everyone else I shared in the ecstasy and euphoria when war broke out. Like everyone else, I went to Buckingham Palace and Downing Street and we cheered and sang the British national anthem until we were all hoarse. We sang ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ to the King when he appeared on the balcony. I sang my heart out even though I’m a Yank. He was dressed as an Admiral of the Fleet, and Queen Mary and the Prince of Wales came out too. We waved our hats and jostled each other, and men who were unacquainted shook hands and clapped each other on the back. I came over in a strange sweat of enthusiasm. The ultimatum was to expire at eleven, so we made our way to Whitehall, and I had my first taste of fighting. I got into a sort of jostling match with a protester just by Nelson’s Column, who carried a placard saying ‘This Is Not Our War’.
It was though. It was all very simple. The Kaiser had invaded France without even properly declaring war, and invaded Belgium. It was said that the Germans had brought in one and a half million men by rail. There wasn’t any moral doubt in any of us. It was absolutely clear that Germany was in the wrong, and had broken a treaty it had signed up to a long time ago. We had to put a stop to them, and that was that. I don’t think we would have been as pleased about a war that wasn’t so obviously just, or against an enemy that hadn’t done anything outrageous. We’d heard about the French officer they’d torn apart with horses. We’d all been insulted too, by the Kaiser saying that our offer to mediate between the Austrians and the Serbs was just ‘British insolence’. It made us all want to go out and give him a bashing. It turned out that the Germans actually had a policy of terrorising the French speakers of Belgium; it was called ‘Schrecklichkeit’, but we didn’t find out until much later.
No one came out of Number Ten when Big Ben struck twelve, and we all knew we were at war. We sang ‘God Save the King’ with heartfelt emotion, and then we dispersed, very much in a hurry to get home and share the news.
But more important to me than all this, was that I was in love with Rosie, and I will always be in love with her. I was going to marry her, and I wanted her to be married to a man she could be proud of, who was worthy of her. She was the kind of British girl who could cycle for miles without losing her wind, and would have taken on the Kaiser single-handed, given the chance. We always seemed to be surrounded by young men coming back on leave from distant parts of the Empire, like Archie, who had done wonderful things such as fighting off hordes of Pathans, armed only with a dead horse and a revolver, and here I was in my stiff collar, sorting out bills of lading, and impaling lists on a spike, when I really wanted to be an engineer, and had in fact got all the necessary qualifications. It made me feel unworthy of her, and it was no life for a fellow like me. I was created for leaping gates, winning steeplechases and repairing irreparable machines. I decided that I was going to enlist, come Hell or high water.
It was absolute chaos outside Armoury House. All the way down Finsbury Pavement there were thousands of men of all shapes and sizes and ages, all equally determined to get in and enlist. The playing fields were covered in tents and bivouacs, there were artillery pieces and gun carriages, and quite a few horses, all beautifully groomed and shining. Small detachments of men were marching in and out, because the infantry were going back and forth to guard all the public installations that the Germans might want to destroy.
We would-be recruits were almost fighting each other for the right to fight, and it was clear from the despondent faces coming out of the gates that an awful lot of people were being turned away. One older gentleman said to me, ‘I gave thirty years of my life to the Honourable Artillery Company, and now they won’t have me.’ He was at least sixty-five years old, and he walked with a silver-topped cane. Another man came out, all ashen and haggard, and he caught my eye, and said, ‘Buggered lungs.’ In amongst the melee there were dozens of horses which had also been brought along in the hope of selling them to the HAC. A dejected Scottish vet in a flat cap was inspecting them near the gates, and arguing with some of the officers, who thought that most of the horses he was passing were fit only for the knackers, as indeed he himself was. To make things worse, there was a crush of wagons and carts that had been requisitioned, and arguments were going on as to what they might be suitable for. I watched an irascible wheeler-sergeant, tapping the wheels and axles with a hammer, and tut-tutting over the discouraging dings and clangs that resulted.
When I finally got in I was stood before a panel of officers, who shuffled my papers around and scrutinised my old school reports in turn. Colonel Treffry put his fingers together and said, ‘Of course, you are officer material.’ He looked at me very kindly.
I replied, ‘Am I, sir? Thank you, sir.’
‘A great many of the young men I have seen are officer material. But we are, as you know, a regiment of gentleman rankers. Our policy is to recruit all ranks from the officer class, and then to promote officers from the ranks. I expect you are aware of this. I am merely advising you that if you wish to become an officer in the more usual way, you should enlist elsewhere. In any case we need troops more than officers. A great many of our former officers have rejoined. So many that we have had to turn some of them away. They’ve been posted to other units.’ He paused. ‘Ideally you should be joining as a regular, and going to the RMC at Sandhurst. I have said the same thing to your brothers.’
He looked at me in the same way as before, and I said, ‘But I’ve set my heart on the HAC. I wouldn’t mind being a gunner. And I wouldn’t be ashamed of being a private. In fact I would be quite proud of it.’
‘Good man. I’m afraid that both the batteries are fully manned, though. We are hoping to set up some reserve batteries, but we’ll probably have to go and see Earl Kitchener to get it done. I expect you know that the batteries are affiliated to the Royal Horse Artillery, but the infantry battalions are with the Grenadier Guards. I expect you’ve noticed the badge with the grenade on it. Would you be prepared to join us as an infantry private rather than as a gunner?’
‘Infantry?’
‘Yes, as an infantryman.’
‘Would I get there sooner?’ I asked.
‘Very much sooner.’
‘What did my brothers say? I didn’t get time to ask them before I came in.’
‘They are happy to go out in the same unit as you, as infantrymen.’
‘There is just one thing,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid I’m an American citizen, and so are Sidney and Albert.’
The Colonel turned to the other members of the panel and said, ‘I didn’t hear that. Did any of you gentlemen hear what Private Pendennis said? Did any of us hear the other two when they told us the same thing?’
They all shook their heads gravely, and the Colonel stood up and shook my hand. ‘Welcome to the HAC, Private Pendennis. None of us has the slightest inkling that you are an American citizen. I am certain that you will be a credit to your nation, and I am certain that the King would wish me to convey his gratitude and appreciation. You will have to pass a medical, of course.’
I rendezvoused with Sidney and Albert and we shook hands, which was wasn’t something we had ever done before. When we left Armoury House I said, ‘Race you!’ and we ran from Finsbury Square to Waterloo Bridge, just to give expression to the joy we were feeling. We ran past all the long queues for the banks, and I felt a guilty pang on behalf of my poor father. None of our ships were able to put to sea because no one would insure them any more, and the government had not yet stepped in. We faced ruin, just as Rosie’s father did because of the chaos on the Stock Exchange, but none of that seemed important. I was so elated that I could have flown like an angel. Suddenly there was a point to everything, and there wasn’t a medical in the world that would have failed me.
Running through London with my brothers beside me, I felt I had grown angel wings.