Bedford School

October 17th 1918

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Brigadier-General Stuart Taylor (West Yorks)

Just as we read of German overtures for peace, we hear of the loss of one of our oldest and staunchest of friends – Fluff Taylor.

Fluff was coming on leave at the beginning of term, but he cabled us to say he could not come. This was followed by a letter saying “a special Hun-killing programme was arranged. On the day I should have come I was watching my lads kill Huns and take others prisoners, and they got a splendid haul.” 

Fluff was wounded in May 1916, just before the Battle of the Somme when his Leeds Pals were hit so badly, and he won the DSO last year. More recently he has been involved in the many attacks raining down on the Boche on the Western Front.

On October 1st, Fluff was touring the front line trenches near Ploegstreet, south of Ypres, when a shell exploded nearby. The Brigade Major was killed and Fluff was hit by shrapnel under the helmet and down his left side. We hear that he died of these wounds ten days later, on October 11th.

Like a bright star he burnt, and is suddenly extinguished; to his friends the world is darker. How he would have loved the glory and splendour of the final triumph for which he worked and fought so hard; but he has attained the still more splendid, though more sorrowful glory of a little white cross above his grave on the Western Front.

 

March 21st 1917

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Lieut.-Col Stuart Taylor (West Yorks) has written to the Editor of our magazine formally to ask us to address the question of how we commemorate those Old Dragons who have laid down their lives.

Various Public Schools are already raising money for their Old Boys. Indeed last week we read that Eton has raised £101,000 for a Memorial, and in order to educate the sons of fallen Old Etonians at Eton. 750 of the 5,200 Etonians serving have been killed.

A letter in the Daily Telegraph yesterday (on page 9) invites Old Rugbeians to attend a meeting with the same aim in mind. Other Public Schools are sure to follow this example.

They are, of course, considerably larger schools with many parents of considerably greater means than ours.  Nonetheless, at present we have about 350 Old Dragons serving, of whom 39 have lost their lives and it is right that we now give consideration to this question.

Fluff Taylor’s letter is very timely.

 

A War Memorial

BEF, France.

March 14th 1917.

To the Editor of the Draconian,

11 Charlbury Road, Oxford.

Dear Sir,

I would like to suggest that the time has now arrived for the consideration of a memorial to the gallant Dragons who have given and who may be called upon to give their lives for their country in this great war.

The School is without a Chapel, and I can think of no more appropriate permanent memorial than a Chapel, which will be a lasting tribute to those who have died and a continual reminder of their heroic deaths to those who come after.

I will give £50 to start the fund for the building of the Chapel, and I am sure Old Boys and Parents will subscribe if the proposition is placed before them.

Yours,

Stuart C Taylor (OD), KOYLI (Lieut.-Col., 15th West Yorks R.)

 

We shall be glad to receive any correspondence on the matter.

 

March 6th 1917

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We have a mumps epidemic and thus have been obliged to have our Sunday services at School. We have therefore had Old Boys on leave preaching – or rather talking (the word preaching, except in the case of a minister of religion, has an annoying meaning).

This week Lieut.-Col Stuart Taylor (West Yorks), ‘Fluff,’ gave the boys a capital talk:

Stuart Taylor 2“You see, in the Parks, the Drill Sergeant drilling the soldiers. Perhaps you wonder why it is necessary to be so particular that the soldiers should turn their heads and eyes to the right on the words ‘eyes right,’ why they should spring smartly to attention at the word of command, or why they must stand absolutely still and steady in the ranks. Why is it?

Why shouldn’t 1,000,000 men each be given a rifle, taught how to fire it, and be sent out to kill Germans? Simply because they will have, in the course of their work, to face unusual situations, sudden dangers, where steadiness, coolness and level-headedness are necessary.

You cannot trust a man or boy’s instinct to prompt him to do the right thing. It will make him do the natural thing. The natural thing is to avoid danger, to run away from it. Instinct will prompt this. But habit, which is the child of discipline, will make a man or boy face the danger and act rightly in an emergency…

The soldier is taught to keep his buttons bright, his hair brushed and short, his clothes clean and smart, not because these things in themselves are of great importance, but because they all tend to make him punctual, clean, smart, cheerful and tidy in mind and body throughout his life.

A smart, well turned out, well-disciplined regiment always fights much better than a dirty, ill-disciplined one. There is no doubt whatever about that…

If a bomb dropped in the street and damaged some people, the natural inclination of a man or boy is to avoid the danger and ugliness of pain and suffering, but the habit of your training, to command yourself and your natural instinct, will teach you to go and succour those who are injured and prevent others coming into danger…

And the outward and visible sign of your habit, of your discipline, is the Dragon which you wear on your cap…

That Dragon represents to you and to all who know you and your famous badge, the desire and determination to live a helpful, kind, courageous and unselfish life; to be true not only to others, but to yourself’. There is nothing so sad as the man or boy who succeeds in deceiving himself. It is far worse than deceiving others, because before successfully deceiving one’s own self, all self-respect must have disappeared.

That Dragon of yours stands to you and me as a symbol of courage, truth, unselfishness and kindliness.

I have met men who wore that badge in all parts of the world, in the North West Frontier of India, Mauritius, South and West Africa, Malta, Crete, Egypt and during the present war, in France; and everyone who knows it, loves it and respects it.”

 

November 1st 1916

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Our old friend ‘Fluff,’ Lieut. – Col. Stuart Taylor (West Yorks) has recovered from his wounds. He returned to command his battalion on September 16th and, although he cannot say as much, I think it highly likely he is somewhere in the region of the Somme.

We are most grateful that he has found the time to write to the boys:

Stuart Taylor 2“We are living in stirring times now and there is much doing. I wish I could tell you all about it, but the censor rules are very strict.

There are one or two things I hate in the trenches worse than the Boches – rats and cats.

The rats are enormous grey shiny looking things with great fat tails, and they come out in swarms at night and eat up all the horrid things they can.

You would think the cats would eat the rats, but they do not, I regret to say. They are kittens which have been born since the war, in the desolated and ruined villages and towns of Northern France, and they are rapidly forming a new species of wild cat, living in old disused trenches or holes in the ground and coming out at night.

There is so much to eat lying about that they do not kill the rats or mice.”

 

This is not the way of nature, but it is to be supposed that war is bound to have some sort of effect on all who partake in it – even cats and rats, it now seems.

 

March 4th 1916

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Lt. Col. Stuart Taylor (West Yorks) is currently with 93rd Brigade, 31st Division in Egypt. He is of course known to us all at the OPS as ‘Fluff’ and is the most loyal of Old Boys. He has contributed on numerous occasions to the pages of the Draconian on his time in the South African War, on horseback in Crete and in Northern Nigeria.

On leave in 1897, Fluff acted briefly as our swimming instructor and clearly his interest in matters aquatic continues unabated!

Stuart Taylor 2“We saved 1000 gallons of water in the last week out of our water allowance and yesterday, Sunday, we celebrated the close kinship of cleanliness to godliness by letting every man indulge in a bath! They made nice oval holes in the sand, spread their mackintosh sheets over the holes and pressed well down into them; and then poured in their hard-saved water – and then, the joy of it! It reminded me of days when I watched seals at the Zoo revelling in their plunges in and out of their various water ponds. Soap, sunshine, splash and singing, it made up a wonderful picture and how they all enjoyed it.

These men of mine are passionately fond of soap and water and the absence of these things worries them more than short rations or sleepless nights…”

Fluff has paid us two visits since this war started. On the first occasion, last April, he was – for reasons unexplained – escorting a Turkish prisoner along Charlbury Road and dropped in. Last term, before he went out to Egypt, he came and demanded of me two ‘extra halves’ and two ‘no preps’ – the biggest yet – and this of course was met with great enthusiasm by the boys, so that I could hardly refuse.

August 20th 1915

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Basil Parker 2

 Captain Basil Parker (Hampshire Regiment)

We have received the following account of events surrounding the death of Basil Parker at Krithia:

“Exactly at 4 p.m. Captain Parker, who was in command, called out, ‘Time’s up, my lads,’ and those in the first trench immediately leapt out, those in the second at once taking their places and leaping out a minute later, and those in the third line doing the same. All were well up in a good deal less than 5 minutes, and with a cheer they rushed forward.

It was a glorious charge and everyone showed splendid courage. The Turks were startled, and took a minute or two – not much more – to get their machine guns (of which they had one for about every 5 yards, and which during the bombardment they had hidden in the trenches) into position, so that our men got some way across the open space. Apparently, however, none reached the Turkish trench. All were mown down.

Of the second line, a few got across. Of the third line which had fewer men, more than half got through, and those who were left of the battalion held the trench until they were relieved by the Royal Scots and Royal Fusiliers. A private said positively that the Turks were driven from their front trench which remained in our hands, as perhaps did some others.

The open ground was so heavily swept by gun fire that it was impossible to bring in the wounded or the dead, even at night. Some may have crawled in, but the severely wounded must have died. As none could be recovered and identified, they were posted as missing.

In the evening of the 6th only 250 out of 900 of the Hants answered to their names.”

The 2nd Hants SurvivorsWhat was left of the 2nd Hants  being congratulated by the G.O.C. Division.

August 17th 1915

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Basil Parker

Captain Basil Parker (Hampshire Regiment)

From Gallipoli comes the news (published in the Times yesterday) of the death of the 9th of our Old Boys to die in this War.

Basil left the OPS in 1889 and I remember him as a rather shy, diffident dayboy, who “found himself” later on. After attending Bedford Grammar School, on the outbreak of the Boer War, he joined the Imperial Yeomanry, Paget’s Horse, 52nd Company. Basil transferred to the Hampshires in 1901, receiving a commission.

Earlier this year the 2nd Hants. were sent out to Gallipoli, where he was wounded in May.  He made a swift recovery and returned to his unit.

In order to assist the opening up of a third bridgehead at Suvla Bay, north of the Anzac position, there were diversionary attacks both on the Anzac and Cape Helles fronts and Basil Parker was involved in the Charge of the 2nd Hants at Krithia on August 6th 1915.

“He was hit by a bullet in the left side; the bullet coming out near the left breast was deflected by his cigarette case and again entered the body and came out at his right side. He died four minutes afterwards with his head resting on the leg of a lieutenant. He was brought back to the dressing station and buried at 7.10 a.m. on the following morning about 50 yards behind the firing line.”

Basil leaves his wife Kathleen and a son, Gerald Stewart Parker, born last year in Indore, Central India.