18th Rifle Brigade

[stiletto_33853]

Ceryswyn,

Following our correspondence I have e-mailed a far higher quality copy of the photograph you requested. Should you need anymore of the images from this thread please do not hesitate to ask.

Andy

[GrtGrdsonLen]

I found these photos from my Great Grand Father William Purton. A member of the 18th. I'm glad to see this forum exists to remember them "C" Company Sale Barracks

[GrtGrdsonLen]

[GrtGrdsonLen]

[GrtGrdsonLen]

[Guest]

Thank you so much for these photos especially the grave marker of Edward Ashdown. He was my great great-uncle and I have been researching his family recently. Keep up the great work in keeping these memories alive xChris

[Burgess]

Thanks so much for sharing this my Great Grandfather Edwin McMurdie served with the 18th , really pleased to have found all this information as it adds to the wonderful story of our ancestors. 

 

[Catrina]

I am not sure if any interest but my grandfather wrote about his time in the 18th whilst in POW camp in WW2 .. 

... There I told him my story and he then telephoned to the O.C. Grenadier Guards at Knightsbridge who would interview me, but he said, "don't mention your age" And so to Knightsbridge and there some brass hats told me that if I passed the inns of court O.T.C. that they would be glad to have me. I felt that I was already a grenadier and bolted off to Chancery Lane. There the officer said "You are very persevering" and duly entered my name as a member of the O.T.C. After the usual medical inspection, I was sent to a room where a pile of all sorts and conditions of uniform lay. I did find a pair of slacks that fitted after a fashion. For the first two weeks, recruits were drilled in Lincoln's Inn or Gray's Inn. we must have looked a ragged platoon with our make-shift equipment, however we soon had rifles. in the meantime I was measured for my uniform. We soon moved off to Berkhampstead and camped in a timber yard, our meals partaken in tents in the Castle grounds. But Oh! the wet and the slush of those days. Later we were given billets in the town, I had a cottage a long way west and near the canal, a rather tumbled down affair, the good landlady gave me an excellent meal every night, homely and satisfying.

      The mornings were very cold in that misty valley with the canal running at the back of my diggings. Shaving was a horror and our parade at 6.55 sharp at the railway station yard was over half a mile away. Our instructors were very able retired army men. The drill was strict and severe, we soon became accustomed and it kept us very fit. I enjoyed the work and the surrounding countryside. The sloes were fine that autumn, I made several bottles of sloe gin, duly appreciated in 1922!!  Night ops stand out as being rather a nightmare. Skirmishing far and wide in the wet darkness, loaded with pack equipment and rifle. I could never see too well in the dark! We were a hearty, fit and joyous crowd and ere long I found myself in "A" platoon. It was said that our drill was as perfect as any platoon in the old army. Frequently officers would come down for recruits for various regiments. We rather scoffed at men joining up with the S & T or any stunt that was not in the front line. It happened that my wife's cousin, Colonel C.A.S.Montgomery, was forming a battalion, the 18th Batt. The Rifle Brigade, and was short of officers. He asked me if I would join him. his battalion was destined for the Far east, probably Rangoon. That suited me  , much better than the wet and mud of the Flanders trenches, to say nothing of the travel, which was in my blood. Old Montgomery applied for my transfer from the Grenadier guards and I joined the 18th Batt.' The Rifle brigade at Hatton Park. I was sorry to leave the O.T.C. at Berkhamstead, the esprit de corps stood very high, all the young men were extraordinarily keen and our marching and drill were second to none. Also one regretted leaving that hilly and pleasant countryside; its woods and hedgerows full of flowers, birds and berries, the fine beeches in Ashridge Park turning to rich brown, as the autumn drew on; the centuries old turf carefully cut around Ashridge House, the farms and cottages full of flowers, pansies, asters and old clove carnations, with fine tall hollyhocks; the woods gay with foxgloves and robin hood amongst the bracken. At Hatton Park, I found that not only was I the oldest subaltern, but one of the oldest officers in the Battalion! And this, so one can well imagine, was a drawback. We moved off next day, or rather night, entraining in darkness, arriving next morning at Devonport, where the "B" and "C" companies went straight on board the old Ballarat, whilst the company to which I was detailed, "D", had to wait for another transport, much to my regret, as we had to march out to hutments a mile away, and there passed an uncomfortable week. However, it gave me the opportunity of knowing my platoon. All were Londoners, nearly all old soldiers, in fact some of them had been in the last Burmese campaign. And a stout hearted set of men they were. I wouldn't like to say their average age, but somewhere around 50! And yet they went through their physical jerks in the manner of the younger generation. At last room was found for D Company on the S.S. Miltiades with other units going out East like ourselves on garrison duty.

      Arguing one day after mess as to which was the smallest republic in Europe, my neighbour, one Geddes a monocled stockbroker, maintained that he was in a position to know as he owned some of it! Living in Italy and knowing its geography pretty well I felt sure of my ground. The conversation warmed up and Geddes bet me a tenner that his republic was smaller than any I could mention. Pulling out my wallet, I quietly handed over ten of the best to the head of the table. Geddes followed suit. "Andorra" is mine', he said and I countered with "San Marino". Up jumps Andrews, a chubby little schoolmaster and searched for a 'Whitaker'. Amidst intense excitement he duly found my republic to be the smallest in Europe. £10 in my pocket, not a bad days work! 

The diary continues throughout their time in Rangoon, together with his photographs and paintings of same