2nd Lieutenant Edward Cazalet
1ST WELSH GUARDS
IT WAS THE 1ST WELSH Guards who would bury Tom Kettle when the battalion began arriving in the early hours of 10th September to relieve the Irishmen at Ginchy. The unit had only come into existence by Royal Warrant in February 1915 and among their number as the Guards Division arrived on the Somme was 22-year-old subaltern Edward Cazalet.
2nd Lieutenant Edward Cazalet. (College Library, Eton College)
Educated at Eton College and Trinity College, Cambridge, ‘Doodie’ was one of four children and grew up at the family home in Fairlawne, Tonbridge. He had contributed a year to the OTC at school, but was not of a particularly military temperament. Nonetheless, Edward applied for a commission in The Buffs on the outbreak of war. Having applied to transfer into the new Welsh Guards, by the beginning of 1916 he was stationed at the Tower of London and spent time guarding Roger Casement before his execution. In mid-July Edward left Southampton and joined the 1st Battalion in the Ypres sector. Less than two weeks later the Welsh Guards were ordered south, where they were accommodated on a large farm. There they trained in open warfare for the upcoming offensive on 15th September, undergoing several battalion field days and a larger scale brigade one. All their endeavours were a trial and of dubious use because the local countryside was covered in crops in full growth and Edward and his men were forced to file around the side of them in the middle of mock battle so as not to do any damage.
Molly Cazalet with her first born, Edward (College Library, Eton College)
Edward despised the squalor of the front. ‘It is rather cold,’ he wrote to his mother in early September, ‘with the result that there are hardly any flies! That is only to say about 1,000 in my room instead of 100,000.’ The trenches, of course, were worse. ‘I can’t get a moment’s sleep,’ he complained from them in August when he was plagued by rats. ‘The German shells, etc. are nothing as compared to the incessant scratch, rubble, squeak, etc. of this beastly vermin.’
The Cazalets were extremely close and he missed his family, especially his mother, Molly, dearly. Edward’s letters were interspersed by quick notes that reminded them constantly of how much his parents, brother and sisters were always in his thoughts. ‘I just long with my heart and soul to be with you,’ said one. ‘This is just to tell you that I love you more than ever,’ he scribbled in another to Molly. A third was included in a last letter before the battalion was sent into the line at Ginchy: ‘My own darling, this is only a line to tell you that I love my mother … and that I long to be with you and all my family.’ In turn, Molly Cazalet adored her first born and could not do enough for him and his companions at the front. She was sending copies of The Spectator to a friend of his and Edward caught sight of one in his tent. ‘I could have kissed it,’ he told her, ‘as I knew my Mummie had read and touched it!’ As well as sending Edward regular orders from Fortnum & Mason, his mother wanted to send parcels to the men, as well as gifts to his particular friends. Edward gave her an address for his soldier servant. ‘He would like some food I know.’
Although Ginchy had been taken by the Irish Division, the situation was not secure on the evening of 9th September. Nevertheless, the Guards Division was ordered to take over the line. Edward and his fellow officers were instructed to dump all excess kit in a nearby barn ready to move up. They passed up congested roads, past clumps and rows of guns, the concentration of which in such high numbers the Guards had never seen. On arrival, Edward Cazalet’s commanding officer went to Bernafay Wood to see the brigadier of the Irish 49th Brigade, who was apparently in charge of the 48th too in the chaos following the battle, to arrange the relief that was supposed to take place. It was envisaged that this would not happen until the situation was actually secure and the commanders fully informed as to the disposition of troops. However, in line with statements made before the attack, the Irish brigadier asked for a relief at once for his exhausted men, who had been without respite for days.
This was less than ideal for the incoming Guards, who would be taking over the line when the fighting had yet to fully die down, in the dark, and in an area they were completely unfamiliar with and had not yet reconnoitred. But this was agreed and that night the Welsh Guards were informed that they would be taking over the left-hand side of the line in Ginchy, temporarily coming under the command of the Irish Division until the situation was resolved the following morning.
Edward’s company commander had gone away sick, so they were short of officers. Guides met them at Bernafay Wood and led them through Guillemont and then on to Ginchy. Edward’s company was to form the left of the line and it arrived to assume its position in frightening circumstances. The 48th Brigade began filing away at midnight, past Welsh Guards Battalion HQ, which was on the outskirts of Guillemont. Then Edward and his comrades were alone. Ginchy was shrouded in complete darkness, out of which came spurts of rifle fire from different directions. Germans shot out from among the ruins, but thankfully for the terrified Welsh Guards, those they encountered personally surrendered at once.
It was nearly impossible to find the right positions. Instead of facing north-east as planned, Edward was facing north-west on the outskirts of Ginchy. The whole scenario was a mess. No. 3 Company had managed to get in touch with the troops on its left, but its diligence was causing problems because the rest of the battalion was off point. Edward’s company was stretching the whole line back. The enemy kept popping up and firing at them, then vanishing into the night as the Welshmen fumbled in the dark looking for the troops on their flanks. There was still barely any light at 7am. The Grenadier Guards were not on their right where they should have been, it seemed, and the Prince of Wales Company was still looking for them when the Germans attacked suddenly.
The counter-attack came from the north, the enemy’s movements masked by mist. There was a bitter and confusing struggle, and rabid hand-to-hand fighting. There were many examples of desperate scrapping as the Germans tried to force their way back into the village. A Private William Williams ‘was seen to dispose of several of the enemy, until with a furious thrust he completely transfixed a German and was unable to free his bayonet’. Undeterred, ‘he knocked another down with his fists, and seized yet another by the throat, when they both fell into a shell hole. More Germans rushed up, and the gallant Williams did not rise again.’
Inch by inch, the Guards repulsed the counter-attack, but as they did so a shell burst claimed the life of Edward Cazalet. Mortally wounded, the 22 year old survived just a few moments before passing away. His soldier servant was devastated. He fussed over his fallen officer. They had had a conversation several days earlier and so he was clear on what should be done. Edward was taken back down the line for burial alongside another Old Etonian of the battalion who had also been killed. A French master who had left Eton immediately on the outbreak of war to act as an interpreter had found himself attached to the battalion. ‘I have just been to the funeral,’ he wrote to Edward’s younger brother Victor, who was also serving in the army. ‘I am so cut up about these losses of my dear young friends that I cannot write more.’ In all, in taking over the line at Ginchy, ill-prepared to stave off enemy counter-attacks, the Welsh Guards had suffered more than 200 casualties.
In 1927 the father of one of the survivors of 10th September read the name of a female MP with a familiar name – Edward’s sister, Thelma. He felt compelled to pen a letter:
Every time I see your name in print, I am sadly reminded of the very tender action of a young officer in the Welsh Guards bearing your name, who just before he himself was killed found time to show much sympathy to a son of mine who had been seriously wounded. Noticing my son wiping away the blood coursing through his lips with his coat sleeve, Cazalet took out his own handkerchief and placed it in my son’s hand, and observing at the same time that he was shivering violently, he rapidly ran to his dugout and brought his own [blanket] and tenderly wrapped it round my son who by then had been laid on a stretcher.
This small act had never been forgotten by this man, who had mourned the loss of his son in the early 1920s when he never recovered from his experiences in the war:
I can never express the sorrow and gratitude that fills my heart at the sound of your name. If you are any relation of Lieutenant Cazalet would it be asking too much of you to let his parents know of their boy’s last gallant and loving deed?
The Cazalet family were deeply religious and had put much money into St Giles’ Church in Shipbourne. A memorial service for 22-year-old Edward was overseen there by the Bishop of Rochester. The congregation sang his favourite hymns and read his favourite psalms. Edward Cazalet was laid to rest at Citadel New Military Cemetery, plot II.A.4.