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Remembered Today:

Robert Ernest Vernede - Novelist/Poet


stiletto_33853

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Andy, working together on the research into his war service would be a pleasure; the information you have is a godsend to any writer. However, I have KOYLI: seeds of discord to finish first (been idling a bit), so my focus will not be 100% for a couple of months or so; I expected the information about Vernede to come in dribs and drabs until I was ready. But, when the time's right, let's have a good old go at finding this Lost Great together (not working alone will be a new experience for me, and I always welcome new experiences).

By the way, Vernede originally enlisted in 1914 as a private soldier in the Royal Fusiliers (the 19th I think) and was later commissioned into the Rifle Brigade. Any mention of this in his service record?

Cheers - salesie.

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Salesie,

I look forward to it immensely as Robert is close to my heart, it will be a pleasure working with you on this project. A couple of months will be perfect for me as my work calms down then(I get a lot of time off between september and about April/May) and I have a research project to complete on a medal I have in my collection to Sir Anthony Cope of the 1st/2nd Rifle Brigade which is becoming a pleasure to research but is going far more in depth than I first suspected when I purchased it. It is truly amazing what you can turn up when you delve deeply.

Yes there is mention of his previous service in his record, also in his obituary in the Rifle Brigade Chronicles of 1917 it states " On the outbreak of War, he enlisted, being then 37 years of age, in the Public Schools Battalion and was granted a commission in the Rifle Brigade in May 1915."

Andy

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That's a date then, Andy - I'm off out now for a meal and a drink, here's to the autumn.

Cheers - salesie.

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Salesie,

I think I will join you for that drink this evening and will lift a glass to Roberts memory and to his memory being revitalised in the near future.

You have made my day in many respects and to find another fan of Vernede's work is just great.

To the Autumn, now off for that drink.

Andy

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  • 3 weeks later...

Finally back from my business trip and was re reading some of this thread and thought it might be apt to place the poem that Salesie refers to

A Listening Post

The sun's a red ball in the oak

And all the grass is grey with dew,

Awhile ago a blackbird spoke --

He didn't know the worlds askew.

And yonder rifleman and I

Wait here behind the misty trees

To shoot the first man that goes by,

Our rifles ready on our knees.

How could he know that if we fail

The world may lie in chains for years

And England be a bygone tale

And right be wrong, and laughter tears?

Strange that this bird sits there and sings

While we must only sit and plan --

Who are so much the higher things --

The murder of our fellow man....

But maybe God will cause to be --

Who brought forth sweetness from the strong --

Out of our discords harmony

Sweeter than the birds song.

From "War Poems and other verses" by R.E. Vernede.

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Marina,

Thank you for the welcome home, normal letter service will continue from now.

Andy

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Andy, A listening post is my favourite poem, war or otherwise. As I said earlier, what struck me when first reading it, and still does, is amidst all the turmoil surrounding him his mind was still able to focus on higher things, he was still able to consider abstract notions of mankind's very essence. In this poem is he simply questioning the perceived superiority of man over beast? Challenging his patriotism in his earlier war poems? Or, is he reinforcing it; saying that mankind, in order to have a greater awareness of our world, has a price to pay for that greater understanding - saying that we don’t get Owt for Nowt?

Vernede's earlier poems were perhaps over-patriotic, but I would argue that his was not a shallow patriotism as described by some. However, for me, this is the greatest poem to come out of the Great War, it resonates on so many levels, and I believe that it has never achieved the attention it truly deserves.

Cheers - salesie.

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July 28th, 1916. (really 26th - C.H.V.)

It may be the 28th or not, but I'm writing in bed just before snoring off and I'm rather vague about it.

It's still rather nice weather - in quite a different part from the last: in fact, we seem to be on the move, and I suppose some day shall get to the centre of things: but for the next six days I am on a bayonet course (!) in order to qualify as a Batt. instructor. This rather amusing, with the greatest battle of the world going on, but like us, C Coy had to send an officer and only Brown and I were available, and Brown wasn't keen, so I offered myself, tho' I am afraid some physical drill is included, which I detest. Five hours bayonet fighting a day for a week ought to make me rather fit, and, as you know, I rather fancy myself with it, but shall probably want to correct the instructor most of the time. Last night we spent in a train till 2.30am, when we started to march twenty miles - stopped for breakfast at 5am, after which Brown and I, alone of the Batt., bathed in a rather nice river just below us. It ran about five miles an hour and one could only just prevent oneself from being carried down. Cold but rather nice in the middle of a long march. Got to our destination about 12 noon, and I am in bed on the floor of a very small farm in a kind of Colliers-End village - the farm kept by a very ancient and smiling Frenchwoman, who is horrified because B. and C. insist on sleeping in the garden. My French is getting terribly bad and fluent, and I bargain for hens and cream and make jokes in French. I had about twenty minutes chat with a charming, dirty, small girl of about eight, who wanted to sell me gateaux, but was quite happy to talk instead. She told me exactly where we were going - which was more than we knew ourselves. As usual, not being able to describe things exactly puts me off, but it can't be helped.

It's rather amusing how the modren Malbrouck (like A.D.) -s'en va-t-en guerre - with John Bull, London Opinion, a pound of chocolates, a bag of greengages, and the utmost light heartedness, on the seat of his compartment beside him.

Did I tell you that __ had been made Adjutant? And there are people like __ and __, men of 30 and 35, with every intellectual distinction and the habit of command and organisation in the Batt., and yet baby boys who have spent four months at Sandhurst have to be tried first ay what is not the simplest job in the world. However, I'm not girding at things - though I do think it will take longer to win while we go on in that way.

Must sleep now.

Andy

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This piece is very insightful. An eight year old girl knowing more than a soldier?

Baby boys?

Thanks for continueing this , Andy.

Cheers

Kim

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This piece is very insightful. An eight year old girl knowing more than a soldier?

Baby boys?

Thanks for continueing this , Andy.

Cheers

Kim

It is fascinating. I've seen photos of some of the young officers at the front. Terrifyingly young!

The locals would know all the roads and where they led to - I suppose troop movements couldn't be hidden from them. But it is an amusing scene, the little girl informing the officer of his destination. Hope he bought one of her gateaux!

Somehow can't imagine Robert being handy with a bayonet, although I believe him if he says so. But he so rarely makes reference to the fighting side and is so humorous. Now why did I think a humorous man couldn't be good with a bayonet?Silly thought!

Andy, I'm going away for a few days tomorrow. If you're posting more letters, I'll pick them up when I get back.

Marina

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July 27th,(?), 1916.

I believe there are extra stringent regulations about what is put in letters at present, so Ifeel rather as though one is not at liberty even to say it's a fine day, which it is. I ought to be getting rather fit with eight hour's bayoneting a day, and I think I am; but am also rather annoyed with the instructor - a Sgt.-Major of some other Regiment who is rather impertinent. I don't know how I shall get on with him as the days roll by, tho' it's absurd quarrelling with anybody but Boches at present, and I shall endeavour not to.

A funny little rosy-faced midget of a Frenchman rolled in to-day to say that some of our men had stolen his espalier apples, and I had a long conversation with him in a sort of French, and the padre gave him some almond toffee, and he went off after shaking us by the hand warmly with the statement that he should consider the apples as a "Souvenir" for the troops. Poor little man, they were apples that would weigha livre each and last till March.

Some of the French people can be very annoying. I discovered a very good vin ordinaire at an estaminet in sealed bottles; and some very bad in unsealed bottles. I brought the sealed bottles and returned them empty at their request. Next time the servant was given sealed bottles I had returned filled with inferior wine.

We have rather an amusing staff at present: __'s servant is a musical comedy star of sorts and quite amusing. He came to me last night and told me that Ginger-my little guttersnipe- had had toothache for three days and nights and wouldn't say anything about it, and would I see to it. So I sent Ginger to the doctor, who pulled out his largest tooth before breakfast and then gave him M. and D.- which means carryon with your usual work-which meant a long day's march in the sun. Some of the Army doctors are awfully inconsiderate, I think. The poor little wretch hadn't slept for three nights apparently, and anybody could see that he looked ill as a result of it. Luckily, Buxton let him off for the day; but he gets told he's too sentimental.

I must go to bed - I had breakfast at 8am and it's 11.30 now - very late!

Frdk. is absurd about the paid job. He ought to know as well as anybody that in war more than in most things people can't be paid according to their works, and it's therefore excellent if somebody who really has got the capacity gets some sort of reward for it. However, nothing will persuade him, I suppose.

Andy

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Saturday, July 29th, 1916

I am afraid my last letter will be rather late, as this is the third time in a fortnight that the rat of a post corporal has told us one time for collecting letters and then taken them at another. And now I have nothing to tell you. It is still very beautiful weather and we are still here, and I am still bayonet fighting. Haven't quarrelled further with the Sgt.-Major, who is more respecrtful in his manners, and am getting very fit. I breakfast at 8, bayonet-fight from 9 - 12 and 2 - 4, and then feel considerably sleepy, apart from having letters to censor, which takes a long time and is rather dull.

The back gardens of these cottages are about half an acre large and well stocked, but very weedy. Of course they sell us vegetables at high prices.

Brown and I are just setting off to the village three kilometres away, as we have the afternoon off, and this will have to close as Brown wants to start early to catch the cashier and get money out of him.

Will try and send something better tomorrow.

Andy

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July, 30th, 1916.

It's Sunday and a most beautiful day - very hot sun and very nice air, and I am sitting in the garden all by my lone, as the Batt. has gone off on a field day, and I, supposedly on a special course, am taking advantage of the fact that there is no bayonet-fighting today to do nothing at all. So that I really have time to write.

The country round is rather nice - the village in a steep valley with a stream half the width of the Rib through it, marshlnd on one side and parkland on the other, rising steadily to a kind of downs which, not being too well cultivated at present, are full of wild flowers. Several of these I haven't seen before - especially on or two campanulas - new to me, but I dare say not rare.

The men have a bathing pool or two in the stream and like it much. The British Tommy is like the pig - just as clean as he is allowed to be.

A.D., who is a lively youth, spends his time scrapping with me in the mess, who spend my time trying to persuade him that if he hadn't been to Eton and Sandhurst some glimmer of sense might remain with him. He's really not unpleasing at all.

Just had to move into the shade of an apple tree out of the sun, so you see how warm it is.

The Paris episode has died down now. They simply could not afford to lose the Sergeants. Of course you have to bear in mind that the older soldiers take these things philosophically as being the Army all over. The trouble is that there are not going to be old soldiers for very much longer - only old officers, and the new wine will be forced into the old bottles by the old Sandhurst system because that system has been artificially preserved by rapid promotion, which prevents it from suffering the normal casualties.

Do you see the lad Anderson has got the Military Cross for a raid he did?. I thought he would show himself pretty competent and gallant.

I almost as hot as if I were in India!. The old lady next door has just told me it was too hot, but I said "No".

Very distant but continual noise of guns.

It is quite extraordinary to see the sort of military articles and sketches that go down in some of the papers. I saw one soldier in the ___ by some one who stated that his servant even built a dug-out for him when he went into the trenches. A decent dug-out takes about ten men to build, working several hours several days; and the idea merely indicates that the writer has never been out of England. The same with half these reported conversations with the men back from the push: they don't even suggest the sort of attitude the men take towrds the whole thing. And the undoubted gallantry is far too much insisted on in order to cover up the shortage of organisation and forethought that so often goes with it. I don't want to seem critical, but one does want to let it out sometimes, and I know you won't mind listening.

These courses such as Howard has embrked on are rather quaint. Of course, it's the same with me at present. I ought to be handling my platoon instead of learning the bayonet; and the other officer learning it is a regular who has had about fifteen years of it before, I suppose, but the instructor must have a class, so off you go to it, whether you are an expert or not.

Naturally, there are some new tips. I don't happen to agree with most of them; and it will be rather like having to instruct the men to cut their balls at tennis instead of driving them - a painful duty.

Andy

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Andy Please keep up the good work.

It shows howw frustrated he was with the system and to be able to let off a bit of steam in his letters to his wife must have been comforting.

Cheers

Kim

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Kim,

Your wish etc etc, the letters are very interesting and gives a good insight into day to day life which I must admit I find fascinating. The small everyday things that we tend to overlook or forget are brought to life in Robert's letters.

Andy

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1st August, 1916.

I wrote you two lines this morning and just missed the little post-corporal, who announced that he was taking the letters about five minutes before he took them, and then scuttled off down a track through thistles 10 feet high, like a white rabbit. I sent my servant in persuit, but he failed to catch him; hence this letter, which may be a little longer but not too much. I'm writing it in my valise in a tent on the top of a bare hill by the light of a very flickering candle. Eric not far off I dare say. It's really hot weather now: men fainting by the way from heat, so you may imagine I'm rather well suited by it. We're not in anything so far. It's very difficult to write by this bougie. Guns in the distance. I must say goodnight now, I think, and see if I can add a line in the morning when I believe we go early to bathe like the Spartans.

No time. Just going to bathe.

Andy

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A footnote states that the Eric referred to in the previous letter was Captain T.E. Le Blanc Smith, M.C., R.F.A.

Andy

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2nd August,1916.

Just a line to say still no news. Not a bad bathe this morning in the river, somewhat coloured by the rest of the Battalion. I am on a Court-Martial to-morrow. It's a picturesque place this - many troops in view - bands, concerts, football going on, and in the distance the crack of guns. I must stop now.

Andy

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3rd August, 1916.

Still another beautiful day and still nothing doing. I spent four hours court-martialling - no deserters, I'm glad to say; bit I did not enjoy it for the same reasons as Frdk. used not to at Sheppey. Tell him he might do a very useful work revising the Army Code and the general powers committed to the casuaul judge. There are some sentences that may be necessary as a matter of course, and the question of guilty or not guilty seems seldom difficult, but when the punishment varies between a month and three years in prison, and the decision is left to amateurs of justice, somebody is sure to suffer.

Sgt. ____ has not been well and I find he was laid up last year with some chest trouble (caught from the old French lady where he was billeted) and warned by the doctor to "look after himself" in case consumption followed. As if a man could look after himself out here. It seems strange in so splendidly-built a man, and one of the added horrors of war.

A Captain in a Scottish Regiment is coming to dinner. It's just about to come on the table, made of old ammunition boxes, in the open, on the side of a down. Beautifully warm - band playing - five course dinner - sunset in crimson dust, and always the infernal crash of the guns.

Andy

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4th August, 1916.

I have no news to give you. Nothing doing. Practised an attack before breakfast; spent the morning teaching the Coy. the latest style of bayonet-fighting; had a ride this afternoon among barbed wire and trenches with Brown, who was thrown by the Coy. horse; tea; lecture by the G.O.C.; dinner; went out with Buxton to watch a great strafe that is going on; came back; corrected platoon letters, and am now writing to you.

My mother's parcel has arrived - very welcome - also the gauze netting; just at the moment the mosquitoes are off, frightened by the guns, perhaps! But it will be very useful if they return. The noise is very distracting.

Must sleep now. The baynit course isn't keeping me back at all. It's sort of extra.

Andy

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He has the officer tone and priveges but still has compassion for his men. A man of condradictions? He seems to be a fre spirit trapped by his surroundings, railing at injustices.

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7th August, 1916.

No letters for two days but I know that it is not your fault.

It's still the hot windy weather that takes all the skin of you by day and is rather icy at night. I taught the Baynit this morning and threw some Boche bombs this afternoon,and then had a swim in the river. I really think I should not be bad with the baynit (which we call the sword) if only I had not a slight rheumatic in the laft shoulder which will not quite go away. Advancing years? or sitting in the mud and snow at Hooge?

This si rather a picturesque spot: I wish I could tell you about it, but I may not. It's rather stupid.

I must say Good-night now.

Andy

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9th August, 1916.

No time to write to you to-day, but am very fit. I got three letters from you testerday. Will try to write more to-morrow.

Andy

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