Mr. Egerton Clarke Goes to War

It's clear from what we learned last time that Egerton Clarke did not come from a well-to-do family, or even a family with a moderate income. When his father, Percy Carmichael Clarke, passed away while serving as Chaplain in Dinard, France, in 1902, Egerton was just three years old. His mother was 45 years old and had another child, 14-year-old Dorothy Mary Clarke.

One day, Egerton was a three year old playing at his home on the balmy coast of France and probably being tended to by his nurse, and in the next his father was dead, his family uprooted, and his life changed forever.

As the orphan child of cleric, Egerton was able to attend St Edmund's School in Canterbury (or Blean?), which had changed its name in 1897 from the The Clergy Orphan School.

His mother, Emma Anna Piper Clarke, was the youngest daughter and second youngest child among a brood of 11 children.

Her father and mother passed away (in 1887 and 1893 respectively), and she had departed the farmland that had been her home at Bishops Stortford in Hertfordshire to become the wife of an older man, the Reverend Clarke, in Norwich, Norfolk.

After that, it seems she got lost in the shuffle of siblings' deaths, family squabbling (I don't think those multiple, fraternal partnerships involving breweries that we read about last time became dissolute over nothing), and space and time—by 1902, my hunch is she truly was not in the forefront of any family member's mind. They all had other things to worry about besides a youngest sibling that, frankly, many of them hardly knew.

By the time Emma Anna was 10 years of age, her five oldest siblings would have been 18 or older. By the time Emma was 18, eight of them would have been 21 or older.

And, sadly, by the time Emma was widowed at 45, three were dead—including the two of the three youngest (Herbert and Clement), who had been closest to her in age. Within ten years, three more would pass away, leaving a married sister, two spinster sisters (who were 6, 8, and 12 years her senior), and an older brother, Ebenezer, who'd run a public house for tramps and was living with her brother Herbert's widow.

What happened to Egerton's sister, Dorothy, is open to conjecture. She seems to have disappeared into the mist, as they say. We also are unsure of Emma Anna's whereabouts between 1902 and 1917—15 long years—but we do locate her when Egerton goes to war.


Egerton Arthur Crossman Clarke became a member of the army at Southampton on 20 September 1917, and his date of service was recorded from 12 November of the same year. His occupation is recorded [left; click any image to enlarge] as "Scholar," and he was 18 years and 54 days of age. He had been classified as B III and posted to the Devon Regiment in Exeter the next day.

Two days later, on 15 November, Egerton was transferred to the Army Pay Corps in Winchester. His next of kin is cited as "Mrs. P. C. Clarke, Thorley Wash, Bishops Stortford, Herts"—the farm of her widowed (and wealthy) sister, Hannah.


We know someone else who had been transferred into the A.P.C. around that time: George Ramsay Acland Mills, who had been sent to Winchester on 16 April 1917.

We also know from our study of his First World War records that George would eventually be put out of the A.P.C.: Mills was compulsorily and involuntarily transferred to Dover on 19 September 1918. After beginning his service at the Rifle Depot in 1916 as an acting lance corporal, by 1918 George had become a mere "fatigue man" at Winchester—not very well thought of, and a man who would not be considered for promotion.

Let's take a closer look, though, at what little we know about the time Egerton spent at Winchester.

He spent eight days hospitalized at the Central Military Hospital in Winchester with influenza from 18 January 1918 through 26 January. There were no remarks recorded about his stay.

Soon, he spent 13 days at hospital—3 June 1918 to 15 June 1918—with tonsillitis, with the remark: "Cleared up on treatment."

Despite the terror that attended the influenza epidemic that year, Egerton really seems to have borne up well, and these hospitalizations on the surface don't seem to have been very serious.

However, on 20 August 1918, Egerton was hospitalized for "V. D. H.": Valvular Disease of the Heart. The attending physician's notes easily can be seen to say: "Anaemic. Systolic bruit at apex. Conducted into axilla. Heart dilated. Attacks of epitaxis frequent. Very short of breath and exertion. Unfit for further service."

Now, Egerton was admitted on 8 August, but we do not know when that diagnosis was made—perhaps the same day.

On page 1685 of the Journal of the American Medical Association (Vol. 78, No. 22) from 29 November 1919, there is an article by Fred M. Smith, M.D., of Chicago entitled, "Tachycardia following influenza pneumonia." You can read the article itself by clicking HERE, but the gist is that many soldiers, after suffering influenza in 1918, were beset by increased pulse rates and other maladies, leading, as the author writes, to some "who had been discharged from the hospital to quarters or duty were returned for observation. Some complained of shortness of breath, weakness, dizziness, and palpitation of the heart on exertion."

Egerton's third hospitalization may have been due to a different cause than those above—he was admitted suffering epitaxis, or nose bleeds—but while the onset of symptoms may have been precipitated by his bout with influenza, his problems were likely to have been organic in nature. Of a case Dr. Smith studied in which the soldier suffered "Organic Heart Disease," he writes:

The course and physical findings of the patient differed markedly from that of the other men. He had a pulse rate of 140 per minute, a definite cardiac enlargement, and a blowing systolic murmur at the apex that was transmitted to the axilla. The findings were associated with shortness of breath, palpitation of the heart, and a feeling of exhaustion on exertion. These symptoms disappeared on rest in bed.


"Rest in bed."

Egerton Clarke had a ticket out of the army: His bad ticker.

When Egerton had reported to Winchester, his medical examination reported that he was 5 feet, 11 inches tall, 135 lbs. (very slim!), and in "Good" physical condition. His vision was excellent.

Egerton's chest size was 34" with an expanded range of 3"—completely average.

Unfortunately, that Army Form B. 178., filled out upon his arrival in the army, had already noted that Clarke suffered from a "Mitral Systolic Murmur" that was "½ (inch) under chest." Egerton's problem was, indeed, organic. Interestingly, the President of the Medical Recruiting Board passed him into service, but classified him as a "Grade III."


We gain more information on Egerton from his Army Form B. 178a., with the wonderfully descriptive title: Medical Report of a Soldier Boarded Prior to Discharge or Transfer to Class W., W. (T), P., or P. (T), of the Reserve.

Aside from the usual name, rank, and serial number, it states that Egerton's Former Trade or Occupation immediately before serving had been "Student at St Edmunds, Canterbury."

We find him being discharged due to "293 V. D. H.," and that he'd had the disability since "Childhood… in the South of France."

A history of the Facts of the case on this form reads somewhat differently than what we saw recorded above. Of Egerton, a physician wrote:

He states he has always had a weakness in his heart + was marked Grade III when he was called up on leaving a public school. He was sent to Winchester. In Jan 1918 he reported sick with pain in his chest + throat trouble. He was sent to Central M. H. Winchester. After 1 week he returned to duty. In July he reported sick + was in H. with tonsillitis [and] influenza. After 2 weeks he returned to duty. His heart became worse, he had attacks of giddiness+ breathlessness. On 20 – 8 – 18 he was sent to Union Infirmary H. + on 5 – 9 – 18 he was transferred to Bed X. H. Winchester.


The form was stamped at the War Office on 30 September 1918. He had been placed in "Grade IV" ("unfit for further service of any kind") by the Medical Board on 25 September.

Egerton had been demobilised officially on 28 September 1918. He would apply for a small pension of 20% which would begin on 1 October 1919 and last for 26 weeks based on the 321 days he had served.


To review: Egerton's third and final trip to the military hospital occurred on 20 August 1918. He was sent to the infirmary hospital on 5 September 1918.

George Mills was "compulsorily transferred" out of the Army Pay Corps [below, right] on 9 September 1918, just a few days after Egerton had been sent to Union Infirmary Hospital—and the only institution I can find by that name was 238 miles away in Bradford, Yorkshire.

That's quite a long way to send a convalescing patient. Perhaps the Medical Board convened to approve or disapprove discharge cases there and only there. Perhaps, though, there was another reason that a great distance from Winchester was deemed necessary by September 1918.


George Mills, a B III like Egerton and with health problems of his own, would have become fast friends with Clarke. Both were educated lads, and both were the sons of clergymen in the Church of England. Both were relatively tall for that time, but neither was a robust man.

Both would have been doted on as youths, the youngest sons of their mothers, both born worrisome problems: Clarke, a weak heart and Mills a speech impediment.

Both may have had trouble fitting in with the other clerks and soldiers in a segment of the army that was populated to a large degree by women. And both were a bit too sensitive and ill-prepared for survival in an environment that, at least involving males, could be hostile and physically demanding.


Clarke was simply not around very long; he served under the Colours less than a year. Mills had been around long enough—since 1916—to have presented a poor impression of himself to the military already. In fact, on the very day that Clarke was discharged for hospital on 15 June 1918, Mills was described [below, left] by an officer as "not much use, I fancy."

Perhaps that was just a coincidence, but Clarke had spent some three weeks away from his duties by then, and George was virtually 'useless.' It appears that Egerton helped Mills make more use of himself than George otherwise might have. If Clarke helped George survive in an oppressive environment, then one easily can see that completely losing Clarke later—a transfer to Bradford, followed by a discharge home—would have hit George extremely hard.

And as Mills was barely a satisfactory "fatigue man," at the very bottom of the regimental food chain, any slip in his performance would have had him sent out of the A.P.C. posthaste.

And it did. Losing his friend Egerton must have been devastating.


Interestingly, George's "place of casualty" is listed above as Watford—presumably in Hertfordshire, and a place we've been reading about in the last few entries.


George would eventually be hospitalized himself for Dhobi's Itch (probably ringworm), and finally demobilised on 19 February 1919.

Would the paths of Egerton Arthur Crossman Clarke and George Ramsay Acland Mills, both late of the Army Pay Corps and serving under the Colours for the duration, eventually cross again?

We know they will, and we'll see where and how next time. See you then.

Word and a Clarification from Oxford

Hooking into the recent excavating that we did in the First World War army file of George Mills, there is a tie-in that's been incubating in my mailbox that I'd like to share. As we know, George was demobilised in 1919, and by October of that year, he had gone up to Christ Church, Oxford, taking advantage of a post-war decree on behalf of young veterans.

A few weeks ago I was doing my "due diligence" as they like to say these days, at least in the States, and running a few of my usual, fairly cursory searches, seeing if anything new has cropped up regarding Mills & Co. Up came a link to the 1922 Oxford University Calendar letting me know it contained the name "Mills, George Ramsay Acland." However, as is the case with many search results at books.google.com, I couldn't see why or where in the calendar it was listed.

Curious, I dashed off an enquiry to Oxford asking about the appearance of George Mills in that text. My reply came from Nicola Hilton, a very thorough and attentive Archives Assistant:

"Dear Mr Williams

Thank you for your email. I have searched the card index of all those who matriculated (ie were admitted to the University) between 1891 and 1932. I have found an entry for George Ramsay Acland Mills. George matriculated from Christ Church on 16 October 1919. He is listed as a member of Christ Church from Michaelmas term 1919, under the subtitle 'Commoners' (ie members who have not been awarded a BA or higher degree), in the 1920, 1921 and 1922 University Calendar. I have been unable to find any record of a degree being conferred (ie at a ceremony) on George Mills.

The colleges in Oxford maintain their own Archives and it is possible Christ Church may hold some additional information on George Ramsay Acland Mills. If you wish to contact them, enquiries should be directed to, Judith Curthoys at judith.curthoys@chch.ox.ac.uk.

Yours sincerely

Nicola Hilton
Archives Assistant"



Thank you, Nicola!

We've actually heard from Ms. Curthoys previously regarding George's time at Christ Church, but this e-mail does offer some new insight: Mills was at Oxford at least through the end of 1921, but there is no record of him attending as a "Commoner" in the year 1922.

I e-mailed Ms. Hilton once again for a bit more clarification—sometimes I can be as ignorant as a bag of hair when it comes to British higher education—and she kindly followed up:

"During the early twentieth century the Calendar was complied each calendar year (not academic year as it is now). George matriculated in October 1919 and first appears in the 1920 Calendar. He appears to have been a member of Christ Church at the end of 1921 as he is listed in the 1922 Calendar. However residence is a college matter and for an accurate record of when George vacated Christ Church you will need to contact the College Archivist directly (please see my previous email for contact details).

Also, a colleague here at the University Archives has corrected me on a description I used in my previous email. Although those students listed under the subtitle 'Commoners' in the Calendar would not have had degrees conferred (ie at a ceremony) the term does not specifically denote this status. The status of 'commoner' in the Calendar separated the students from other member of the College who were 'Scholars' or 'Exhibitioners' (ie had been awarded some type of scholarship)."


So, while there is no record of George Mills having a degree conferred, the status "Commoner" that he carried throughout his time at Christ Church (Oxford?) isn't necessarily an indication of that.

I do find it hard to believe, though, that a case could be made for Mills having earned a degree in just over two years and was simply unfortunate enough to have Oxon's clerks lose the entirety of his paperwork, and, as a result, they neglected to record him as having had a degree conferred. That seems a bit of a stretch.

What is the "upshot" of all of this?

I am not entirely sure, save that on my "Timeline" of the life of George Mills, another of the gaps has been narrowed a wee bit more. Thanks to the record-keepers of the British Army and Oxford, we've tightened our focus on the endpoints of what Mills was doing from 15 January 1916 through the end of the calendar year of 1921.

Now, what occupied young George from the outset of the year 1922 through to his appointment as a schoolmaster at Windlesham House, then at the "Southern Cross" in Portslade, for the Lent term of 1925, still is open to conjecture.

We also have no indisputable evidence of what exactly Mills did to occupy his time between leaving Harrow School in the summer of 1912 and his recruitment under the Colours on the 15th of January 1916. He did enlist while declaring he was still a "student," according to his Army Form B 2512.

Summer 1912 to Lent 1925 is quite a stretch of time, even though we have ample data encompassing the period from New Year's 1916 through Christmas 1921.

At one end, George was a schoolboy at Harrow, aged 15, and at the other, seemingly a novice schoolmaster at Windlesham at the grizzled age of 28, having taken a turn in the ranks and studying at Oxford in between.

Any ideas?

1919: Army Form Z 11 – PROTECTION CERTIFICATE, Statements of the Services, and a Nice Handwritten Note from George Mills

Our final peek into the World War I army record of Pte. George Ramsay Acland Mills concludes here. We know that Mills was demobilised to the No. 1 Dispersal Unit at the Crystal Palace on 19 February 1919 and presumably was welcomed into the loving bosom of his family. Shown, left, it is actually the back side of a document we've already examined: Army Form B. 103., CASUALTY FORM—ACTIVE SERVICE. Here we clearly see the documentation of the demobilisation of our protagonist.

We don't know who might have met George at Sydenham Hill, or if he made his way home in some other way—Perhaps taxi? By rail?—to his waiting family in Kensington. With one son, Arthur, already having been wounded by the trenches of France and then returned to the Colours to serve once again in Palestine and China, it must have been a joy to Rev. Barton R. V. Mills (who served during the conflict as an Army chaplain) and wife Edith to know that their son, George, was relatively safe in England—although there were air raid drills at the APC in Dover—and now coming home for good.

It was "The War to End All Wars," after all.

Upon his dispersal, George was issued Army Form Z. 11. [right], his PROTECTION CERTIFICATE AND CERTIFICATE OF IDENTITY (SOLDIER NOT REMAINING WITH THE COLOURS). While the information about Mills at the top of this form is what we already know [Except for the line: "Specialist Military Qualification} Nil."], a key phrase stands out: "The above named soldier is granted 28 days' furlough from the date stamped hereon pending [19 FEB 1919] (as far as can be ascertained) which will date from the last day of furlough after which date uniform will not be worn except upon occasions authorized by Army Orders."

It goes on to state in bold-faced print below: "This certificate must be produced when applying for an Unemployed Sailor's and Soldier's Donation Policy, or, if demanded, whenever applying for Unemployment benefit."

So, this document proved Mills was a soldier on furlough until 19 March 1919, and after could be used to apply for unemployment benefits. He needed to hang on to this form. Got it!

It is recorded on the above documents that he was, indeed, "Transferred [to] Class Z [on] 19 – 3 – 1919." George finally became a civilian once again almost 92 years ago to the day. That's a happy ending to a not-always-so-happy tale, is it not?

Or is it the end?

The actual final document in the file of George Mills is a handwritten message, written on stationery imprinted with his grandfather's address and telephone number (3545 Kensington, if you're interested).

Seen to the left and below, right [click to enlarge], it reads:

"April 3, 1919

The Regimental Paymaster, R.A.S.C.

Sir,

I have mislaid my Protection Certificate & cannot, therefore, gain my bounty. All the drafts had been cashed and my 28 days furlough having expired, I suppose I became careless and lost my paper. All the other documents issued to me at my demobilization are safe. Could you tell me if I can obtain another certificate?

I was discharged on the 19th of February this year from the Reserve Supply Personnel Depot at Hastings.

I should be very much obliged to you if you could help me in any way. If, in the meantime, my Protection Certificate turns up I will at once communicate with you.

I am, sir
Yours faithfully,

George R. Mills
(MILLS)

Late Pte,
S/440048"

An inked rubber stamp tells us that this missive was received at the paymaster's post room at Woolwich Common on 7 April 1919. We have no way of knowing if Mills eventually found his Army Form Z. 11., or if it a duplicate was sent to him. It does appear that the copy here in his file is the primary carbon duplicate transcribed on the date of his demobilization.

By "bounty," Mills must have meant what an on-line source at the WWI website The Long, Long Trail refers to as "additional payments due to him [that] were sent in three installments by Money Orders or Postal Drafts. These could be cashed at a Post Office on production of the Protection Certificate." Terry Reeves at Great War Forum adds: "The serviceman was issued with a Protection Certificate for the period of his leave and a rail warrant. An out-of-work donation policy was also issued, which was effective for 12 months after his demobilization. The benefit was 24 shillings pw for men over 18 with allowances for those with children; women received 20 shillings. This rate was later increased to 29 shillings and 25 shillings respectively."

George also may have wanted the certificate so he could apply for unemployment benefits. Such a need wouldn't last long, however. We already know that Mills then "matriculated from Christ Church on 16 October 1919 [my emphasis]," and by a decree of 9 March 1920, "he was exempted from taking Responsions (preliminary examinations for entry) and the examinations of the First Public Examination," allowing George to enter Oxford, according to their archives.

Anabel Peacock, an archivist at Oxford continues: "This decree stipulated that until the end of Trinity Term 1923 any member of the University who had been engaged in military service for twelve months or more before his matriculation, was permitted to offer himself for examination in any Final Honours School, despite not having met the statutory conditions for admission to that School. This was on condition that he had obtained permission from the Vice Chancellor and the proctors; that he had entered upon the third term and had not exceeded the twelfth term following his matriculation; and that he had paid the fee for admission to the examinations the decree excused him from."

With a well-respected father and grandfather who'd graduated Oxon, it's easy to imagine that all must have been a veritable 'slam dunk' for young George. He easily cleared those hurdles and did pay his fees of £5—2s on 21 May 1921.

George was off to college in 1919 after last having attended classes in 1912 at Harrow. That is, unless you count his stint in the classrooms at S.C.T.C. Fovant at the School of Instruction, where he learned shorthand theory and typewriting—the latter being quite a useful skill for a man who'd eventually become a novelist.

And looking back on the clearly lacklustre military career (thus far) of George Mills, Pte., S/440048, doesn't it seem fitting that the army's newly-minted but almost immediately demobilised clerk did what many of his officers along the way [His various assignments are seen on his Statement of the Services forms, both of which are seen, either left or right] probably would have expected him to do?

He lost a critical piece of the paperwork he was handed on his way out the door of the Crystal Palace on 19 February 1919.

Although there is certainly a warm place in my heart, full of admiration, for George Mills, this final document in his WWI record seems almost fitting: He was a failed clerk who was even forced to admit he couldn't locate a very important military document after becoming a civilian again. I'm sure no one in the Army Pay Corps would have been surprised in the least.

Oh, George…

Better luck at Oxford, lad!

1919: STATEMENT AS TO DISABILITY.

When last we checked in on Pte. George Ramsay Acland Mills, S/440048, of the Army Service Corps, he had just completed work to gain his certificate in shorthand and typing on 18 December 1918, just five weeks after the signatures had dried on the Armistice that ceased hostilities on the Western Front.

George must have had it in his mind to return home to his new address in London. While in the service, his parents and sisters had moved from 38 Onslow Gardens in Kensington to the home of George's maternal grandfather, Sir George Dalhousie Ramsay, at 7 Manson Place, Queen's Gate, S.W. The aging Ramsay was 90 years old at the time, and had served as Director of Clothing at the Army Clothing Depôt, 1863-1893, in whose service he was named to the Civil Division, Third Class, of the Most Honorable Order of the Bath in 1882.

Sir George's wife, Eleanor Juliat Chartris Crawford Ramsay, Pte. George's grandmother, had passed away on 15 March 1918, a death which likely precipitated Sir George's daughter, Edith, and son-in-law, Rev. Barton R. V. Mills, and/or their children moving in with Ramsay.

Am I the only one who finds it remarkable that a completely unsuccessful and unsuitable army clerk like George Mills was given another chance to redeem himself, this time in the Army Service Corps—a corps affiliated with the Army Clothing Depôt, in which Sir George [right] had made a name for himself, in part for having begun the use of a twilled cloth called khaki under his stewardship?

Ramsay was ninety at the time, yes, but might he still have had some strings to pull down in the war department on behalf of his struggling grandson and namesake? That is, if, indeed, George had let anyone in the the family know of his difficulties!

Either way, we have no reason to believe that George did not begin work as a clerk somewhere in the Army Service Corps almost immediately after the completion of his training. With the Army Pay Corps already having commandeered the lion's share of the able clerks at the time, and with the APC probably then needing even more as soldiers began to demobilise, it's hard to imagine Mills didn't end up sitting in front of a typewriter somewhere, at a desk, typing something for someone.

Demobilization must have involved the Army Service Corps, keeping track of soldiers' issued items. Here's an excerpt from an on-line description of some of those duties written by Terry Reeves at the Great War Forum:

"Men were allowed to keep their uniform, with the exception of those discharged from hospital. Those arriving from overseas with steel helmets were allowed to retain them. Great coats could be kept, but £1-00p was deducted from the man's pay. He was issued with a great coat voucher however. If, within a specified period of time he handed it in at his local railway station, he would be reimbursed on the production of the voucher.

A Dispersal Certificate recorded personal and military information and also the state of his equipment. If he lost any of it after this point, the value would be deducted from his outstanding pay."

Mills may not have been involved in that sort of accounting and paperwork exactly, but when experienced clerks began doing those new tasks, it seems likely that their more routine chores would have fallen to him—the new fellow.

Mills hardly had a chance to warm his chair in the ASC, however, when he was called for demobilization and discharge as well. Reeves continues:

"Men were sent to special dispersal units for demobilization. Whilst there, they were issued with all the necessary documentation after which they would be sent on leave. For most men, demobilization automatically took place at the end of the leave period."

Not quite so for one George Ramsay Acland Mills, however. Here's a typed document from his file [left] that is dated 30 January 1919, some six weeks after completion of his own coursework in shorthand and typing, indicating he had finally had been selected for demobilization, but it didn't go through immediately. It reads: "O.C. Clerks Boy.   Please note that S/440048 Pte George Mills (group 43) who has been held up can now be spared for demobilization." It is signed by the Lieutenant Colonel in charge of the Reserve Supply Personnel Depot of the Army Service Corps. The location given is "12, Eversfield Place, Hastings."

No reason is given for Mills having been held back prior to 30 January, but this document does seem to release him at that point.

But, wait! Not so fast….

Yet another document, this one a handwritten memorandum [right] penned by Capt. C. Washington of the Royal Army Medical Corps, medical officer in charge, R.A.S.C., at 26 Eversfield Place. It was sent to the "OC. Clerks boy" at "Warrior Square," and it reads: "3 February 1919    S/440048    P/E    G.R. Mills.    Herewith documents of above named man returned as he is undergoing treatment. Please cause him to report then(?) with documents on completion of treatment."

It was 3 February and Mills was held up yet again! This time it definitely appears to have been for medical reasons.

George finally did end up being demobilized, however, a process that seems to have started sometime in advance of 30 January 1919. On George's Army Form Z. 22., STATEMENT AS TO DISABILITY., he claimed he had not been disabled during his time spent serving under the Colours for the duration of the war. It was signed by the commanding officer of the RSPD, ASC, and clearly dated 31 January 1919.

Mills had been sent to make that "statement as to disability" the day after receiving the typewritten card above. Something must not have clicked, however, so scratch that: He was delayed again.

We can see on Army Form Z. 22. [pictured below, left] that Mills was finally given his demobilization physical in Hastings on 17 February 1919 by our old friend, Dr. H. R. Mansell, C.M.P. We can see that on the typewritten card mentioned above someone has scrawled "Action   18 — 2 — 19." George was finally on the move!

What had delayed Mills for well over two weeks, perhaps more than three, during which time he must have been simply itching to return to London and his family?

There is some ghost writing on side one of Army Form Z. 22. [click the form, left, to enlarge it] that can, in fact, be clearly be read on this sheet, not in the cells of the tables that have been left blank unilaterally, but in the marginal areas. To the left, we see the words "under treatment" written in script next to George's particulars (name, rank, serial number, etc.). It's hard to tell if it is written in pencil, or if it is the result of some misplaced carbon paper.

Above those same particulars, we again see written in a ghostly but clearly readable script—either in pencil or carbon—the words "Dobies Itch."

Dobie's Itch didn't jump right out at me immediately, first because I had no idea what it was. Based on a quick googling, I discovered that's because we in the United States today usually refer to it as "Jock Itch" (or the more vulgar "Crotch Rot"), while UK websites now call the same thing Dobie's Itch. Secondly, it never occurred to me that a soldier could be held up for nigh upon three weeks for that sort of seemingly insignificant treatment. Looking over literature from the era, however, it seems "Dobies Itch" may have been used then as another term for "ringworm."

Frighteningly, regarding Ringworm, Wikipedia states: "Dermatophytosis has been prevalent since before 1906, at which time ringworm was treated with compounds of mercury or sometimes sulfur or iodine. Hairy areas of skin were considered too difficult to treat, so the scalp was treated with x-rays and followed up with antiparasitic medication."

Indeed, on p. 735 of the 12 December 1918 edition of the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal (vol. 179) an article regarding x-rays, "Ten Years' Experience with Ringworm in Public Elementary Schools," states: "[T]his offers a convenient mode of epilation, which is necessary to get at the mycelium and spores... but the drawback is the time required, about two months; and, besides, there is the temporary baldness, and, theoretically, the fear of damage to the brain cells. It is also a somewhat costly method."

In the 1918 text Medicine and Surgery, H. H. Hazen, M.D., wrote an chapter entitled "Dermatology and the War." On page 145, he states: "Acne is objectionable chiefly because it is so unsightly I have already published my observations of x-ray treatment of the disease, and further observations have served to show that it is the quickest and surest means of cure, and permanent cure.

Ringworm of the groins has been common in men who have served in Gallipoli and Egypt. The British dermatologists report many such cases among the officers, and it is only fair to assume that the privates have suffered just as frequently."

It's hard to tell if that last sentence was intended to be a pun or not, but we must realize that, while "Dobie's Itch" may have been amusingly vulgar for the men to laugh about (then and today), the treatments 100 years ago were no laughing matter from the perspective of medicine nowadays. (I'm reluctant to use the term "modern medicine," for these horrible treatments were exactly that in 1918.) In fact, we recently read of the above Dr. Mansell's malpractice difficulties regarding his well-meaning use of x-rays simply to diagnose a broken leg!

Here's one last snippet, from a textbook called Diseases of the Skin by Richard Lightburn Sutton, published in 1919—presumably with treatments up to the 1918 standards that would have been applied to George Mills.

The section on treatment of ringworm begins on page 975, and the photographic illustrations are an absolute nightmare—b&w medical illustrations meet Heironymus Bosch [examples are pictured, left, and above, right]. Laboring under the assumption that the modern-day connotation of "Dobie's Itch" (sometimes Dhobi's Itch) as having something to do with the "crotch" might mean that George's treatment, circa 1918, focused in that specific area of his body, this may best describe his treatment. Let’s hope so.

The text reads: "In ringworm of the crotch and axillae [Sutton's emphasis], it is often necessary to apply soothing remedies, as Anderson's antipruritic powder, calamine lotion, and similar preparations first, and antiseptics later. Of the latter, an aqueous solution of sodium hyposulphate (10 to 15 per cent) is one of the best, although carbolized solutions of resorcin (2 to 10 per cent) and mild parasiticidal ointments (ammoniated mercury, suplhur, and salicylic acid) sometimes act well… Even after the disease is apparently eradicated, it is usually advisable to emply a non-irritating parasticide, as an ointment containing ammoniated mercury (2 to 5 per cent) or an aqueous solution of sodium hyposulphide, for a period of several weeks to guard against relapses."

If that wasn't the treatment he received—and that would have been the better choice looking at it from 2011, although why wouldn't they have thought back then that a combination of ammonia and mercury could do a body good?—then my heart goes out to Mills. If he underwent x-ray therapy, something we know was available to Dr. Mansell, it must have been horrific and might easily explain his inability to have children later in life.

Still, repeatedly swabbing ammoniated mercury on any part of his body, particularly this private's privates, couldn't have been particularly healthy or pleasant. While I'm sure his bunk mates snickered aloud at his itchy irritation, the entire affliction and course of treatment must have tormented Mills.

On 19 February 1919, Mills finally was demobilised by the Dispersal Unit at the Crystal Palace on Sydenham Hill (by automobile today about 17 miles south of his grandfather's home in Queen's Gate), perhaps with a parasiticidal ointment secreted on his person. He had been given his Army Form Z. 11. to take with him on his "leave," at the end of which he would become a civilian again.

George was home at last.

Is this story over? Not quite.

There would have to be one last strange episode in this saga of George Mills, Rifleman, Lance Corporal, Fatigue Man, Private, Student, and Clerk, and it would be almost a punch line to a running joke. But we'll look at that paperwork next time…

1918: TRADE PROFICIENCY and a CERTIFICATE.

At this point, our trip through the WWI file of Pte. George Mills is nearly at an end. Reviewing some key dates, we know Mills joined the British Army on 15 January 1916 and was added to the Army Reserve on the 16th.

His service actually reckoned from 11 July 1916 when he was posted to the Rifle Brigade at the Rifle Depot in Winchester [pictured, left; a place Mills must have liked, aesthetically]. On 30 January 1917, Mills was appointed an unpaid Lance Corporal. Things, one assumes, must have been going well..

On 11 April 1917, exactly 8 months to the day after his posting, Mills was transferred to the Army Pay Corps at Buckland near Dover. The transfer is marked "on probation." Five days later, George, once again became a Rifleman (Private) and was officially transferred to the APC, dated 16 April 1917. What it meant to be "on probation" is not recorded.

Mills lasted just two days shy of 17 full months in the APC when he was "permanently and compulsorily transferred" out of the Pay Corps, which at the time was starved for able bodies to work, on 9 September 1918. We also know that was seen as someone who would not "ever make corporal," as was written in a review on his 16 April 1918 APC anniversary, and was then noted in writing as being "not much use" on 15 June 1918.

The Army Form W 5010 he carried with him to the O.C. Eastern Command Transfer Centre at Prees Heath [parade grounds pictured, right] designated him as a "clerk found unsuitable ," but also recommended that suitable duty for George would be "clerical work." Apparently just not clerical work at the incredibly busy Army Pay Corps!

The date of dispatch to his new assignment, "A.S.C. Supply List, Prees Heath, Salop," was 11 September 1918: The Army Service Corps.

Let's go to the paperwork to find out what happened next to a man who after a year and a half was found so utterly unsuitable as a clerk that he was permanently transferred out—obviously using a very special logic—to find work elsewhere as a… uh… clerk, seemingly the only military task suitable for him.

What does one do if one cannot find work, or doesn't like one's current employment? Education! Training! We'll find that's exactly what the army must have had planned for young George Mills, Private, failed clerk, and fatigue man.

There are two documents in his file that let us know exactly what Mills did immediately after posting to Shropshire on11 September 1918. They are obviously carbon copies of originals that probably went with him to his next assignment. [I have enhanced/darkened these images in PhotoShop, but there are still tricky parts for one to decipher.]

The first document is a stencil duplicate [I think we called them "mimeographs" when teachers gave them to us when I was a kid], probably on card stock given its relatively small dimensions and good condition. The stock would explain why some information was inked in advance—pressure through an upper layer of card stock wouldn't have worked very well with carbon paper. However, only the easy-to-read original, probably carried in a soldier's own hand to his new assignment, was likely to have mattered much in the grand scheme of army offices, circa 1918.

The first document is entitled "TRADE PROFICIENCY. CLERK." It announces that Mills had been trained at the military base [pictured, left] S.C.T.C. Fovant, at the village in the south of Wiltshire. Fovant is noteworthy because of the large-scale regimental badges that were carved by soldiers in a nearby chalk hillside, many of which have been restored today.

This item [pictured, below right; click to enlarge] reads "12892. I certify that Mills Pte. G.R. has been tested and proves himself a ………………….. clerk." The carbon handwriting in the blank is barely legible, but it appears that it may possibly be the word "first." I wouldn't wager much on that, however, and think it is far more likely to be "fair," beginning with what looks like a script "f." [It is unclear why that particular word, however, wouldn't have been capitalized as are the rest.] The "12892" is George's old APC serial number.

The next lines read: "Knowledge of Shorthand ………………..," and in the blank is written what appears to be "Theory only," and "Knowledge of Typewriting …………………," in which quite clearly is written "Fair."

We saw a bit of similar information last time, while looking at Army Form B 278 (List of Transfer Documents). Someone going through George's file had jotted the notation "G/ Theory/Fair" on that document. We see "Theory" and "Fair" in the preceding paragraph, those words having appeared in the second two blanks of the proficiency card. Is the capital "G" from yesterday a clue to decoding the word in the first blank today? Does it actually read "proves himself to be a Good clerk," with the partial carbon impression of a stylized looping of the cursive "G" merely resembling an "f"?

The date is also somewhat illegible, but it seems to read "Prees Heath, 13/…/18." Prees Heath is stenciled, as is the 18. It's interesting because Prees Heath is 180 – 200 miles from Fovant—not exactly just around the corner. George's excursions from Dover to Salop to Fovant and back certainly had him riding the rails in late 1918!

Mills had been taking typewriting and shorthand classes after arriving at the Transfer Centre. My wife, Janet, assures me that he would have needed shorthand fully if he was going to be a secretary. The fact that he was only accomplished in 'shorthand theory' meant that he could read and write it, while being unable to take actual high speed dictation. My hunch is that this training would have qualified him to transcribe shorthand notes in a typewritten form, as well as serving in all other ways as a clerk typist.

On the card the word "Accept" is written in ink and initialed. Mills has also been dealt a new serial number, also penned here as: "S/440,048."

Moving on to the second document, it is entitled simply: "CERTIFICATE." [pictured, left]. It reads: "Rank Pte. No. 440048 Name Mills, G.R. Of the Reserve Supply Personnel Depot has passed this Depot Course, and has proved himself a Very Fair Shorthand Typist. Date 18/12/18." It is signed by the Shorthand – Typewriting Instructor and the captain in charge of the School of Instruction.

Mills, we find, just before Christmas of 1918, finally had skills with which to compete with the male, and probably especially female clerks, that were populating army offices on the home front in England.

His success in gaining "Very Fair" competency at those typing and shorthand skills must have been somewhat bittersweet: On 11 November 1918, the armistice had been signed between the Allies and Germany at Compiègne, France, leading to the cessation of hostilities on the Western Front.

Although some fighting would continue on Germany's Eastern Front and parts of the Ottoman Empire—George's brother, Arthur, was in Palestine, you'll recall—it must have begun to look like his clerical schooling had been for naught. George, it appeared, would be going home soon.

But if you thought it would be that easy, you just haven't been following this story very closely. There would be a delay, of course. And in a rather elegant plot twist during a time marked by a deadly influenza epidemic, it would turn out to be health related—and not in a way that would make for polite dinner conversation.

Stay tuned for more. And don't worry: We'll get George home eventually…

1917 - 1919: Table III and Army Form B 278 (but no AFW 3068)

Tucked away in the WWI file of Pte. George Ramsay Acland Mills, we find yet another medical document, in this case referred to as a table. This item is burdened with the cumbersome title: Table III.—Boards; Courts of Inquiry, Vaccination, Inoculations, etc.; Examinations for Field or Foreign Service, Extension, Re-engagement, or Prolongation of Service; Issues of Surgical Appliances; Particulars of Dental Treatment, etc.

There are few entries, the first obviously by a clerk. It reads: "7 – 9 – 17     T.M.B.     No. 9 E.C.     Classified BIII.   Unlikely to become fit, not to appear before 1 – 3 – 18."

The next entry is stamped "6 APR 1918     No. 9     TRAVELLING MEDICAL BOARD EASTERN COMMAND ."

The series of handwritten entries show the location as "Prees Heath" in Shropshire, and read: "21 9/18     TAB/1," "28 9/18     Vacc.," and "5 10/18     LAB 2." It appears they are dates: 9 September, 18 September, and 5 October in 1918.

9 September 1918, as we know, is the date on which Mills was compulsorily transferred out of the Army Pay Corps.

Those entries are bracketed to the right, accompanied by the notation "BIII" and stamped with a floral asterisk, then signed below by a captain with an indistinguishable surname. It is all accompanied by a carefully penned word [pictured, right] that appears for the life of me to be "faithness," with a flourish preceding the initial "f." It could also read, I suppose: "NO faithness," if that is not a flourish.

(If anyone has any idea as to the meaning of that word, or if I haven't identified it correctly, I would welcome your assistance!)

Finally, dated "Hastings 17 – 2 – 19," the last entry reads: "Found fit for Cat. BIII & free (from) infect(ion)." It is signed by "H. R. Mansell, C.M.P.," likely at the Hastings Military Hospital, which existed from January 1917 to June 1919.

Arriving with George at Prees Heath on 9 September would have been yet another bit of paperwork, Army Form B. 278. This form, entitled LIST OF TRANSFER DOCUMENTS, would have catalogued all other documents that the OC Eastern Command Transfer Centre would have expected to receive along with the warm body of Mills.

Checked off [left; click to enlarge] were the following forms: AFW 5010, Field Conduct Sheet (Army Form B, 122), AFW 3068, Company Conduct Sheet, Medical History Sheet, Active Service Casualty (Army Form B 103), and the Regimental Conduct Sheet.

We've actually examined all of these forms at this point except one: Army Form W 3068, which was added in handwriting to the above form. This form is simply not in Mills file. Army Form B 122, however, has been copied (front and back) twice within the file. It is unclear if AFW 3068 was missed during that duplication error, or if 3068 was simply misplaced and lost.

Doing some research, mention of AFW 3068 was found in an on-line obituary for a British soldier named Frank Bourne, a driver for the Army Service Corps' 800th Horse Transport Company, who died of influenza on 5 October 1918. Here's an excerpt:

"He joined the Army Service Corps and became T/4/143126. After enlisting Frank's war was at home as he wasn't posted for nearly a year. On the 29th February 1916 he was transferred from the Essex Regt depot at Warley and went to Woolwich. Army Form 3068 shows that he left with two pairs of boots, one cap, two drawers, 2 jackets, one pair of puttees, two pairs of trousers, one cardigan, and one drab greatcoat, but was not issued with a cap badge or razor."

It would probably not be of great interest to anyone except a git like me, but I'd have liked a look at that form—although why I'd need to know he had a pair of puttees or a cardigan tucked away, I don't know!

The only other notation on this List of Transfer Documents are the following items, written in script, and stacked one atop the other: "G/ Theory/ Fair." It doesn't seem to be located in a particular place as much as it appears to have been a quickly dashed notation in an empty space.

I have a hunch what that note regards, but I'll save that for another time. After all, George has just arrived in Prees Heath, and we have more discover regarding his transfer to the Army Service Corps.

Incidentally, Dr. H. R. Hansell was apparently a civilian doctor who did the final medical examination on George Mills in Hastings upon demobilization and George's release from service.

One can read a bit about Hansell on-line at Google Books by entering the search phrase "Dr. H. R. Hansell," including the particulars a malpractice suit for the misuse of Röntgen rays in diagnosing a woman's fractured thigh and her subsequent radiation burns. (35 minutes under an x-ray machine might have been a bit excessive, but all agreed that was normal.) He also was an accomplished soloist, having belted out "masterly renditions" of Non è Ver and Queen of the Earth at a "lengthy and well-varies musical programme" at the Queen's Hotel in Hastings on 10 February 1910 (at least according to The Dickensian).

Isn't the internet an amazing invention for those of us who love trivial and virtually pointless information? Imagine how wealthy I might be if I put this kind of research effort into, say, investing in the stock market!

Anyway, for more about George Mills and his brief stay in Shropshire before demobilisation in 1919, stay tuned…

1916 - 1919: Table II.—Only for Admissions to Hospital or to the Sick List in the case of Warrant Officers treated in quarters.

After recently delving into the medical history of George Mills, 1916 – 1919, I realize it may call into question his overall health. Was he ever quite ill during his stay in the service, and did sickness in any way hinder the performance of his duties?

Given the deadly worldwide outbreak of influenza during that time, was it possible that his military career was curtailed due to the Spanish flu?

While I can't say that, on a day to day basis, Mills never suffered from the sniffles or a twisted ankle, I can say that anything of that ilk must not have amounted to much.

One glance at a document called Table II.—Only for Admissions to Hospital or to the Sick List in the case of Warrant Officers treated in quarters. [right; click to enlarge] allows us to see: Nothing. 32 rows and 7 columns of empty cells.

It's possible that Mills was considered some things that had a negative connotation during his time beneath the Colours, but "sickly" was very likely not one of them!

The eventual demobilisation of George Mills in 1919 would be delayed several days because he was "under treatment," and we'll soon see for what. For now, however, suffice it to say that Mills was never hospitalized and his experience during the First World War seems to have been characterized by youthful good health.

1916 – 1919: Army Forms B 120, 121, and 122

We are taking a break from our examination of the retirement years of George Mills, much of which was spent with his sisters, Agnes and Violet, at Grey Friars in Budleigh Salterton, as well as on croquet lawns all around south and central England.

Today, we'll stay with our look into the military files of George during the First World War, from 1916 – 1919. Last time, we found that the youthful Mills was having difficulty making any sort of lasting mark in the service, having been compulsorily transferred out of the Army Pay Corps while serving as a 'fatigue man.'

Before we examine what happened to George Mills after his departure from the APC, it may be fair to take a look at some other records in his file. It is distinctly possible that Mills may have been dismissed from the Pay Corps due to misconduct, and that he may have drunk, brawled, or even 'thieved' his way out the proverbial door.

One glance at his conduct record, seen above on Army Forms B. 120., B. 121., and B. 122. [above, left; click to enlarge] are all quite obviously free from any taint. In fact, after having been filled out upon his beginning to serve the Colours, the only amendments occur when he was transferred and subsequently assigned new serial numbers.

These documents clearly show that Mills engaged in no detrimental conduct—there is not even an entry in the blank requiring the date of his "last drunk"—and he received no punishments.

These pristine and extremely wide, open spaces also provide evidence of something else: During his entire tenure during the Great War, Mills never received what Army Form B. 121. refers to in whole as: "Good conduct badges, service pay, or proficiency pay."

Mills certainly has no black marks on his record. In fact, Mills apparently made no mark in any way, positive or negative. No bad conduct. No conduct. Not a single thing.

His transfer out of the Army Pay Corps must simply have been based on competency—or lack thereof—and we do know that officers during his tenure in the APC at Buckland, Dover [right], did not see much potential in a certain Pte. G. R. Mills.

Would things be different when he reached the Army Service Corps?

We'll soon know! Stay tuned…

1918: DISPOSAL OF SOLDIER PASSING THROUGH THE TRANSFER CENTRE.

Late summer, 1918. The turning point in the First World War. The Battle of Amiens opened a string of Allied successes that is now known as the Hundred Day Offensive, a massive attack initially coordinated by Gen. Henry Rawlinson of the British Fourth Army integrating the use of tanks, aeroplanes, and artillery in support of a suddenly highly-mobile infantry and cavalry, ushering military tactics out of the trenches and into a modern age of warfare.

Rawlinson's powerful strike on August 8, 1918, had been cloaked in secrecy, and its aftermath led to the nervous breakdown of German General Erich Ludendorff, the 15 October mustard gassing of a bitter young German soldier named Adolf Hitler, and the signing of the 11 November Armistice.

Rawlinson's desire for secrecy in the days leading up to the Battle of Amiens even manifested itself in this unusual way: The British Army's Army Pay Corps had pasted a message into the latest pay books of their troops ordering them, if captured during the offensive, to give only their name, serial number and rank, the message concluding with the words: "Keep your mouths shut." Word of Rawlinson's new stratagem could not be permitted to leak.

While I am uncertain whether those pasted messages were inserted into pay books in Great Britain or abroad, at more advanced pay headquarters on the continent closer to the front, we do know that in August 1918, George Mills was a serving the war effort as a clerk in the APC back in England.

What exactly his duties may have been at the time is unknown, but carrying the rank of Rifleman, or Private, to the APC may not have endowed him at first with responsibilities far greater than care of those glue pots.

Mills had been transferred out of the Rifle Brigade and into the APC on 16 April 1917. By 9 September 1918—almost a month to the day after what Ludendorff had called the "the black day of the German Army," Mills was unceremoniously and involuntarily transferred out of the Army Pay Corps [above, right; click to enlarge images].

Army Form W5010 is entitled DISPOSAL OF SOLDIER PASSING THROUGH THE TRANSFER CENTRE. Mills is listed with his requisite details: "G. R. Mills, 12892 Pte., APC, BIII, Student," but the telling phrase here seems to be "disposal of soldier."

This form contains the additional information: "How employed in present unit: clerk found unsuitable ."

The next entry says: "Recommendation of OC. Transfer Centre as to duty for which suitable clerical work ."

Mills apparently arrived at the Transfer Centre and had this form stamped on 10 September 1918. The document is also stamped PASSED FIT FOR EMPLOYMENT ON A.F.W. 5010. The next handwritten entry is: "Unit and Corps to which transferred and Station ASC Supply List Prees Heath, Salop ."

After some 17 months on the job in the Army Pay Corps, Mills not only hadn't earned a promotion, but was compulsorily forced out. On 13 April 1918, the Regimental Paymaster in Dover sent a message [at left] to the "Officer 1c." in charge of Mills asking if he might, after a full year in the APC, "specially recommend" George for "promotion to the rank of Lance Corporal with pay @ 2/— per diem from that date." (A raise from what we know was his 1/8 pay rate.)

The next day that form was returned to Dover without ever having been filled out, along with this handwritten note [right]: "R.P./ I do not think he will ever make a corporal. He is a satisfactory fatigue man." The Regimental Paymaster subsequently jotted: "Then we have no right to recommend his promotion."

Another document, this one handwritten in what appears to be pencil on scrap paper, is dated 15 June 1918. Presumably this one is also about George Mills, and it reads:

"Sir/ This man is not in this section now. He is on fatigue with Harbinson the messenger, was one time in Lan…s section. Is not much use I fancy."

The signature of the author of the message and the receiving officer are not legible to me, but can be seen in the image at left.

While I'm not 100% sure what the term 'fatigue man' meant in the British Army circa 1918, it hasn't been a position of honor on the United States military. A WWII veteran, Bill Oneby of Wisconsin was drafted into the army out of high school in 1943 and said in an interview: "I was a fatigue man. It was a sort of holding pattern for some recruits while the military decided where they should serve."

One does get the feeling that despite being 22 years old in 1918 and having received something of a Harrow education, as well as already having served as an unpaid Lance Corporal in the Rifle Brigade (a promotion that certainly did not last), the army still didn't know what exactly to do with George Mills.

It must have been somewhat disheartening for George to realize that after two years in the army, Mills was ostensibly still just the 'fatigue man' sidekick of the company messenger in the APC.

On 27 September 1918, British war correspondent Philip Gibbs wrote of the aftermath of that decisive Battle of Amiens: "On our side the army seems to be buoyed up with the enormous hope of getting on with this business quickly" and that German soldiers on the Western Front "no longer have even a dim hope of victory on this western front. All they hope for now is to defend themselves long enough to gain peace by negotiation."

While the British, Australians, Canadians [pictured, right], French, and Americans pursued the retreating Germans, Mills was being trained for clerical work outside of the APC, where he definitely had not been held in great esteem.

Failed APC clerk George eventually would end up in the Army Service Corps in Prees Heath, Shropshire, and acquire some new skills that would serve him well through the Armistice and well beyond. We'll take a look at all of that sometime soon!