Executed at Dawn (8 page)

Shell shock was believed to be the result of a physical impact on the brain caused by a shell landing nearby, although it could be generically used for a range of traumatic conditions. Men could be under enemy barrages for long periods of time and they would react in a number of ways. Lord Moran, who had served as a medical officer on the Western Front and was later to act as Sir Winston Churchill's personal physician, made the same point:

Courage is will-power, whereof no man has an unlimited stock; and when in war it is used up, he is finished. A man's courage is his capital and he is always spending. The call on the bank may be only the daily drain of the front line or it may be a sudden draft which threatens to close the account.

Frank Richardson, in his postscript to Babington's book (2002), also wrote about the idea of a bank balance of courage which needs, from time to time, to be replenished. Each time this is required it will not only take longer to do, but will also not last as long – demonstrating that ‘every soldier, however brave and resolute, has his breaking point' – and the point at which it all becomes too much would vary from person to person.

Good discipline and training helped many to withstand the mental strain involved without them seeming to reach their breaking point, but this could be undone by tiredness and adverse environmental conditions. Tolerance levels varied; some men, on reaching their breaking point, would go berserk and became a danger to themselves and to others, while others would become incoherent and unable to function in any way, even losing the ability to speak or to move. Others ran away from the source of the problem – although many soldiers were able to withstand the strain and function as normally as the circumstances allowed. As with many things in the First World War, luck played a large part in how such men were treated – was that soldier really ill, putting it on, or was he in fact a deserter? If he was unlucky and was viewed as a deserter, then he would be tried accordingly and would face the possibility of a death sentence. Others, after a short time out of the line, recovered sufficiently to be able to return, while others required hospitalisation – and it is here that class again rears its head as more officers were treated for shell shock than the other ranks.

An ex-sergeant of the 13th Middlesex Regiment, who had been in charge of a firing squad, wrote to Thurtle about a particular incident that he had experienced. On this occasion the firing squad was made up of ten men who had been selected from what he described as a few details left out of the line: they ‘were nervous wrecks themselves', which leaves it open to conjecture as to whether their physical and mental condition was such that they were fit enough to undertake such a detail in the first place. The ex-sergeant wrote, ‘two of them had not the nerve to fire. Of course they were tried (by court martial) but they were found to be medically unfit – their nerves had gone …'

Private James Crozier of the 9th Royal Irish Rifles was just 16 years of age when he was executed on 27 February 1916. With feelings against this execution running high among his comrades, the APM and the military police had a very real fear that the firing squad would disobey the order to shoot. In his book
A Brass Hat in No Man's Land
, Brigadier-General Crozier (no relation) wrote about this particular execution and seemed to take some pride in the arrangements made for the shooting of a young man – a young man whom he had, in fact, recruited himself, and had assured the boy's distraught mother that he would personally keep an eye on her son. Where the feelings of the men were concerned, his attitude was more or less one of ‘so what, they would just have to get on with it':

There are some hooks on the post; we always do things thoroughly in the rifles. He is hooked on like dead meat in a butcher's shop. His eyes are bandaged … A volley rings out – a nervous volley it is true, yet a volley. Before the fatal shots are fired I had called the whole battalion to attention. There is a pause, I wait. I see the medical officer examining the victim. He makes a sign, the subaltern strides forward, a single shot rings out. Life is now extinct … We march back to breakfast while the men of a certain company pay the last tribute at the graveside of an unfortunate comrade. This is war.

Given that James had been known to Crozier (Putkowski and Sykes, 1996), this makes for quite difficult reading, but Crozier in his book never admits to having this more personal knowledge of James. Indeed, Crozier refers to the unfortunate private as Crocker, a name that does not appear in Putkowski and Sykes' list of the men executed in the First World War, which is included in their book as Appendix 2. Was Crozier being genuinely or deliberately forgetful in his book? It is difficult to believe that he had really forgotten James' surname. Was he still looking out for James' interest by seeking to protect his mother? This is possible given that he was perhaps laying a false trail and, in his own words, he had said that he did not want the family told, and so ordered the inclusion of Crozier/Crocker in the list of those killed in action. This would have enabled Mrs Crozier to receive any allowances due, but unfortunately this subterfuge did not ultimately work and she received nothing.

Brigadier-General Frank Crozier. This volatile Irish officer had a remarkable career. After the war he was made commandant of the Auxiliary Division, a paramilitary unit of the Royal Irish Constabulary at the height of the Troubles, and resigned in highly controversial circumstances. After being declared bankrupt for a second time, he was involved in the League of Nations Union and then turned to pacifism, becoming a founder member of the Peace Pledge Union. How much did this have to do with his involvement with executions during the war and after it?

Even more disturbing would be the thought that he was attempting to deny prior personal knowledge of James and the fact that, as James' battalion commander, he did not recommend that his sentence should be commuted and instead recommended the death sentence. There is possibly some substance to this: why did he feel the need to keep up the pretence in a book written in 1937? By then Mrs Crozier knew James' fate and had already experienced the repercussions from her son being executed.

A further worrying aspect of this story is that at about the same time that Private Crozier deserted, a subaltern by the name of Rochdale (this could be Brigadier Crozier disguising the name of the officer concerned because in other documents he is named as Lieutenant Arthur Annandale) committed the same offence. Crozier considered that the officer's desertion was made worse by him having displayed cowardice in front of his men. Rochdale was charged and, much to Crozier's dismay, he learned that he ‘was to be released from arrest and all consequences'. When it was suggested that Rochdale be returned to his battalion, Brigadier Crozier refused to accept Rochdale back, saying, ‘the least said about this the better, except to remark that had justice been done according to our code, regrets would have been fewer than in the case of [Crozier].' Despite the blatant inequality of treatment right under his nose, Brigadier Crozier did not hesitate to recommend the death penalty for Private Crozier.

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The notes given to Guilford set out the following instructions for the firing squad, and it is against these that the experiences of those involved will be discussed:

To consist of an Officer, 1 Sergeant and 10 men of the prisoner's unit. The sergeant will not fire. The Officer will be present at the promulgation of the sentence to the prisoner and will on that occasion receive from the APM any instructions as necessary. He will previously instruct the firing party as to their duties, impressing on them that the most merciful action to the prisoner is to shoot straight.

Rifles will be loaded by the Officer i/c Firing Party and will be placed on the ground. One rifle will be loaded with a blank. Safety catches will be placed at safety. Distance from post 5 paces. The Officer will bring with him a loaded revolver.

The firing party will be marched into position by the APM whilst the prisoner is being tied to the post. The APM will so time this that the firing party will be ready for action simultaneously with the completion of the tying up.

The firing party will march in two ranks, halt on the rifles, turn to the right or left, pick up the rifles and come to a ready position, front rank kneeling, rear rank standing. They will press forward safety catch and come to the ‘present' on a signal from the APM. The Officer, when he sees all the men are steady, will give the word ‘fire'. This is to be the only word of command given after the prisoner leaves the place of confinement.

When the firing party has fired, it will be turned about and marched away at once by the Sergeant, the Officer remaining behind.

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Private William Holmes, of the 12th Battalion, London Regiment (Arthur, 2002), wrote of how he and his colleagues drew lots to determine the four who would make up the firing squad for two men who were to be executed for desertion. The four men were then organised into pairs, and were told that one of them had to fire at the head of their designated prisoner and the other at his heart. There is no suggestion in this case that any blank ammunition was used.

Arthur (2002) has included the extract from Holmes in his chapter for 1917, but these same recollections are also included in Lister (2013), where they in fact refer to the execution of a young soldier, Private Abraham Beverstein, of the 11th Middlesex Regiment, who had enlisted at the age of 18 under the assumed name of Harris, and was executed on 20 March 1916 when just 19. Beverstein enlisted under a false name because it was considered dishonourable in certain Jewish circles to be a soldier, and Harris is the name on his gravestone.

Private Beverstein had written to his mother on 2 July 1915 to tell her that he had been ‘in the trenches four times and came out safe'. In January 1916, the Beverstein family received notification from the Infantry Record Office, dated 15 January, informing them that Private Beverstein ‘was ill at 38th Field Ambulance, France, suffering from wounds and shock (mine explosion)'.

A couple of weeks later the family received a letter from Private Beverstein in which he wrote:

Dear Mother, we were in the trenches and I was ill, so I went out and they took me and put me in prison, and I am in a bit of trouble now and won't get any money for a long time. I will have to go in front of a court. I will try my best to get out of it. But dear Mother, try to send some money. I will let you know in my next [letter] how I get on. Give my best love to Father and Kath.

The letter is interesting in many ways because it is not clear whether by his comment, ‘I will try my best to get out of it', Private Beverstein knew that he faced the death penalty and was putting on a brave face for his family or whether he really was unaware of the seriousness of the situation he was in. If it was the former, then he was being very brave, but if it was the latter, then it demonstrates that two years after the start of the war the deterrent aspect of the penalty was not working.

In April 1916, the family was informed that Private Beverstein had been shot for desertion just weeks after being in a field hospital suffering from wounds and shock.

It is likely that the other soldier executed was Private Samuel McBride of the 2nd Royal Irish Rifles as he is the only other soldier listed in Corns and Hughes-Wilson who was executed on that date and, like Beverstein, he was also buried in the Sailly-Labourse Communal Cemetery.

Interestingly, for each man executed, the firing squad constituted just two men and not the number given in Guilford's notes above. Nearly 100 years later, we can only imagine what those four men felt both before and after the execution, given that there is no mention of blank ammunition, and each would have been aware, as would have been the APM and the officer in charge, of whether or not their bullets had found their target.

In 1916, the soldiers of the 18th Manchester Regiment were dismayed to be told that one of their comrades was to be shot for desertion, and on this occasion the firing squad consisted of six men, who were told by an equally unhappy officer (Moore): ‘I only hope to God you shoot straight.'

On this occasion, those in the firing squad were separated from the rest of the regiment the night before the execution to receive their instructions. As a reward for the unpleasant task ahead of them, they were allowed to relax and enjoy a drink, although they would have been supervised to ensure that none drank enough to render themselves senseless and therefore unable to take part the next morning. The soldier, Private William Hunt, was executed on 14 November 1916 for the offence of desertion. Hunt was certified as dead by Lieutenant G.C. Robinson, RAMC.

On 23 March 1916, Private F. Charles Bladen was executed for the offence of desertion by a firing squad of twelve men drawn from his own battalion of the 10th York and Lancaster Regiment. On the eve of the execution, the entire firing squad was taken by bus some distance away from the rest of their regiment, under specific instructions that they should not be told of the task awaiting them.