Merton Court History

Private Thomas James Highgate

SN: 10061 Queen’s own Royal West Kent Regiment

Case file written by Ellie Grigsby (Not an old Mertonian)

On May 8th, 1895, Alice Highgate gave birth to Thomas James. As Thomas drew his first breath, squealing to the world he had arrived, no doubt wrapped in rags cuddled by his weary mother in the squalid single room he, his parents, and siblings shared, it wasn’t to be long before he and his family found another home. In Victorian England, rural poverty forced many poor families to seek work in London and so it is not unusual to realise that the Highgate family in Thomas’ generation alone, settled in Egham, Shoreham, Sidcup, Catford and Deptford. From a tender age of seven years old until he reached his 15th birthday, Thomas frequently found himself an inmate of the Lewisham work-house. Work-houses, were places where those unable to provide the basic necessities for themselves and their families were offered accommodation and employment, but these Dickensian institutions that limped into the middle of the twentieth century despite legal closure in the 1930s scarred generations for their appalling conditions and cruelly imposed physical and psychological torment. By entering the work-house, paupers were considered to have forfeited responsibility for their family. Mothers screaming for their infants as the ‘guardians’ tore their children from them was a regular occurrence. Perhaps this heart-breaking ordeal happened to Alice and Thomas. Alice’s maternal bond with her son was forever fragmented, defined by their circumstance of poverty.

Frequenting the workhouse throughout Highgate’s childhood would have inflicted great strain on his education; after five recorded primary school admissions all within an estimated seven years, it is highly likely Highgate was barely literate.

In 1900, Britain boasted the largest navy, but apprehension for the rapid growth of the German armada prompted an arms race. Britain launched the HMS dreadnought in 1906 which embodied a naval revolution: the dreadnought was the first battleship of her era to have a uniform main battery, and first capital ship to be powered by steam turbines, making her the fastest battleship in the world at the time of her completion. Destitute boys, quite like Thomas, were needed by the Royal Navy to man the dreadnoughts, so opportunities were rife. Highgate was sent to the training ship, the Exmouth, in Grays, Essex, on the 18th May 1907, leaving three years later to climb onboard the SS Oriana as his new role as a ‘deck boy,’ serving here until September 19th. Whist aboard the Exmouth, at only twelve years of age, Highgate held a lot of responsibility.  With up to 500 plus boys aboard, boys had to learn how to wash their clothes, keep their personal property, hammock and bedding tidy, learn the skills of sailoring, rowing, sail and rope making, gunnery and signalling. They did continue ordinary school work and other physical activities such as swimming and gymnastics. Originally inaugurated in 1877, the Exmouth was renovated in 1903 as the ship’s hull was found to be in a perilous condition.  Thus, the new Exmouth, still similar in appearance, but this time built of iron and steel was the vessel Highgate was aboard for those years.

In 1912, when Highgate joined the 3rd Queen’s Own Royal West Surrey special reserve regiment, Highgate, alike all new recruits, were required to attend school either during their first six months of service or until they attained a ‘third class’ certificate specified to the standard for promotion to the rank of corporal. The examination, compiled of numerous tests included being able to read aloud, to write from dictation passages, and to demonstrate arithmetic ability. This must have been tough for Highgate, but he passed. Joining the reserve battalion was like a form of part-time soldiering; in some ways, similar to the army reserve we have today. When Highgate enlisted into the special reserve for six years, he had to accept the possibility of being called up in the event of war. Highgate was only 16 years of age when he joined, bound by this military covenant. After six months of full-time training, Highgate then had to attend 3-4 weeks training per-year, thereafter. This meant attending an annual camp at Eastbourne by the sea which was a real luxury for a boy like Highgate who could not afford a holiday.

On February 4th, 1913 Highgate decided to come out of reserve and join the regular army, very possibly to follow in his older brother Charles’ footsteps. From his attestation papers we can gather fantastic details of his physical appearance at this time. At 5ft 4.5 inches tall, weighing just over 9 stone with brown hair, hazel eyes, and both fore-arms decorated with quite the typical naval tattoos, Highgate was now attached to the Queen’s Own, Royal West Kent Regiment. Prior to mobilisation, his regiment were based in Dublin’s Richmond barracks until they crossed over to France in August 1914. On the 14th of August at 02:20am, the Gloucestershire steamed out of Dublin bay. With reportedly ‘fine’ weather, the destination was unbeknownst to the men aboard, but it was rumoured to be Le Havre. As the Gloucestershire was not big enough to allow all of the battalion (800 men), to sleep below decks, Highgate, if one of the unfortunate men who had to wait their turn to rest, must have been anxious as he sailed to a foreign place restlessly trying to catch a glimpse from the blacked-out lights above the water-level that evening, of where exactly he was approaching.

After arriving in France, by 08:55am on August 17th, Highgate’s battalion were aboard a train departing from Le Havre: the secret destination, as their billets and the front loomed closer, was once again unbeknownst to Highgate and his comrades. It was reported in the battalion’s war diary that at every stop that train made throughout the journey, the ‘greatest enthusiasm’ for the soldiers and ‘the war, was displayed by the inhabitants who crowded the station forcing presents… upon officers and men with many salutations and expressions of good fellowship.’ The grandiose words of the diarist create a somewhat romantically cinematic vision of Highgate tilting outwards from his carriage window clutching his cap as adoring young ladies plied their war heroes with packets of ‘cigarettes’, and ‘flowers,’ cheering as the bellowing steam pumped onto the platform as the train whisked off another young generation of boys to warfare. 

The first action Highgate saw was on the morning of August 23rd, 1914 at Tertre in Belgium. Highgate fought at the first great battle of The First World War between the German and British. As Germany was advancing through Belgium, the Belgians, and the French, who had come to help them to resist them, were getting pushed back by the German juggernaut. Britain was able to deploy about 100,000 professional soldiers to the continent; she only had her small precarious army at this point, whereas, other European powers had conscript armies of millions whilst Britain only had her professionals. Britain marched northwards and stopped at the Belgium town of Mons. Highgate must have been frightened as he arrived at what would have looked like a ghost town; the local inhabitants had basically abandoned Mons, the streets were empty, and they had shockingly little intelligence on the enemy’s locations and numbers. The British took up their positions on the Mons Condé Canal. The British didn’t actually have enough soldiers to cover the whole canal bank in strength, so they focused on fortifying little positions by the many bridges that crossed the canal. An over-confident British army in the first few days of the war made grave tactical errors that cost them dearly. They did not blow up those bridges nor did they even prepare them for detonation - this meant the advancing Germans could simply cross terrains, despite of course being hit by gun fire upon attempt. At 11am on August 23rd, the fusilier battalion of the Brandenburg Grenadiers debouched in mass formation onto the open fields of the front of the Royal West Kents. Highgate’s regiment opened up a storm of rifle fire that tore into the German regiments leaving ‘moaning bodies piled high.’ Retaliation was swift however and the German’s divisional and corps artillery opened up on the British infantry positions and subjected the stunned soldiers to a barrage of which their training and underestimation of the enemy had not prepared them for. Later, the Germans attempted coming forward with a far more tactical approach: they started swimming across the canal. They began to get a foot hold on the British side of the canal, the British position was being infiltrated; they were essentially, surrounded. Further to the encirclement, artillery bombardment was heavy; as 5.9-inch German shells were thundering down, bursting among Highgate and his comrades, the Royal West Kents had to pull back, taking with them as many of their wounded as they could but leaving behind the ‘mangled bodies of their comrades… reduce to huddled lumps of blood and offal.’ As early as mid-afternoon on the 23rd August 1914, retreat for Highgate and his comrades from the canal was sanctioned. The Royal engineers manged to blow up one bridge, but it was too late. Corporal Bernard John Denore described his soldiers and the conditions they were retreating under from August 23rd until September 5th:

“we marched all day long…we had no sleep…the marching was… disorderly; numbers of men from other regiments were mixed up with us…men were discarding their equipment in a wholesale fashion, in spite of orders…men were falling down like nine-pins. They would fall flat on their faces on the road, while the rest of us staggered around them, we couldn’t lift our feet high enough to step over them…”

Over the next two weeks, the BEF pulled back no less than 200 miles and exhaustion amongst the soldiers like Highgate was reportedly acute. Marches of up to 20 miles per day were reported by one battalion diarist, but he explained the bigger issues were lack of sleep and the overwhelming sense of compression through the constant urgency to keep retreating, was what wore the men down. A sense of defeat, whilst witnessing comrades die horrifically must have been very damaging for men like Highgate. Men were struck by heat stroke, no doubt a disillusioned, weary Highgate suffered awfully blistered feet from the lengthy marches, and many men were even getting lost in the panic and confusion of retreat. The retreat from Mons has been described as ‘organised chaos.’

The commander in chief of the BEF was Field Marshall Sir John French, and he suddenly found himself under immense pressure. French was faced with humiliating blows on the front, implemented retreat so prematurely into the war, and suffered huge losses of manpower: the BEF had lost nearly 20,000 men: killed, wounded, missing in action or just plain disappeared by September 5th. During the last week of August 1914, and first week of September, the diary for the assistant Provost Marshall of the 5th division, reported incidents of: robbery, looting, lost equipment, detached men from their battalions and even war crime allegations of rape. By August 30th the BEF had no fewer than 2,923 reported stragglers. It began to seem as if French’s proud army was disintegrating into chaos as the tired and dispirited soldiers’ bonds of discipline began to crumble. French became paranoid and even suspected the newly appointed General Smith-Dorrien as being a war office spy, planted to observe him in secrecy. After a forceful visit in Paris from Lord Kitchener at the end of August, it was apparent the war cabinet was breathing down French’s neck demanding apparently unrealistic plans and this reportedly deeply angered French. It was this frenzied atmosphere of retreat, confusion, and tension that urgently required an inexorable force of soldiers and it was realised a severe punishment had to be realised in order to regain control. The single execution of Thomas James Highgate was about wider disciplinary concerns and setting an example for hundreds of thousands, as a result.  Even for a war that was to be ‘over by Christmas’ desertion was simply not an option.  

As the retreating Royal West Kents, exhausted beyond measure, defying one officer’s understanding of logic that man could not be ‘so tired and hungry yet still alive,’ stopped in a stubble field a mile south of Tournan, about to begin its counter-attack across the Marne on the 6th September 1914, Private Thomas Highgate, goes missing. It was 08:15am in Tournan, that day when a Thomas Fernor, gamekeeper of the Baron de Rothschild estate, was in Madeleine, in search of something. As Fernor, attempted to retrieve his lost bicycle, he stumbled across Private Highgate. Highgate was dressed in civilian clothes, unarmed, and when asked by Fernor what exactly he was doing, Highgate explained: ‘I have lost my regiment and I want to get out of it.’ Highgate told Fernor the correct regiment he was assigned to and was took Fernor to the place in which he thought he had left his uniform and rifle. The two men found Highgate’s uniform, abandoned inside a wood shed; his rifle however, was missing. Fernor immediately gave Highgate into police custody.  Captain C. A. Milward of the 53rd Sikhs, received a telegram on the morning of September 6th informing him of his orders to ‘arrest a deserter.’ Milward obeyed, and went to Mairie, where he was shown and given Highgate’s uniform and his active service pay book. Milward took over Highgate and again asked him why he was not with his regiment. Highgate told Milward he had left them that morning and answered nothing more.

The court assembled at Château Combreux just south of Tournan for the court martial of Private Highgate. Under oath Highgate told the court: ‘I came out of bivouac with my regiment this morning. We halted on the side of the road, I left … the regiment went on… I went on but could not find them, got strolling about, went down into a farm, lay down in a empty house, and have a slight remembrance of putting some civilian clothes on, but do not remember exactly what happened until the man came down to arrest me.’ When cross examined about what Highgate said to Mr. Fernor, Highgate replied: ‘(I) wanted to get out of the place in which I was and wanted to re-join my regiment. I cannot say why I was in civilian clothes.’

After close analysis of Highgate’s Field General Court Martial (FGCM) proceedings and surviving miscellaneous primary material of a private nature (that perhaps was not intended for public consumption), it is axiomatic that General Smith-Dorrien and his contemporaries did not feel morally obliged to consider Highgate as an individual case. Considering the desperate situation on the western front and the disciplinary state of the BEF that was seemingly decaying, the military authorities clearly sought for a pre-emptory during a very confusing situation, no matter the cost. Highgate was the victim of an act of militaristic and political expediency. Many would argue this sort of arrogance might be expected of the officer class at the time, but it was of no consolidation for Highgate and his family. Crucially, General Smith-Dorrien filled out the Army form ’49’ stating that ‘the proximity of the enemy rendered it inexpedient to observe the provisions of rules 4 c, d, e, 5, 8, 13 and 14.’ Essentially, what this means and argues for, is, because of the close proximity of the enemy when Highgate deserted, the legal requirement to abide by such legislative laws that guaranteed Highgate his defence and a copy of the summary against him (thus rebuffing him the right to formulate a defence), was not necessary. As ludicrous as this sounds, it was ‘legal’ but inevitably it leaves a lingering sense of unease. To reiterate previous commentary, due to Highgate’s chaotic childhood defined by poverty, he was most probably barely literate; and we have now established he was given no legal support for his defence and expected to eloquently argue his case against his well-educated superior officers. This is without considering Highgate was physically and emotionally exhausted from the previous week fighting at Mons.

Interestingly, Private Highgate’s service record, a completely separate record collection to the FGCM proceedings papers, reveals not only a history of desertion prior to the outbreak of the war, (Highgate confessed to fraudulently attempting to re-enlist to his majesty’s army in Woolwich, after absenting himself from 28th February until 4th April 1914) but also, a history of something quite remarkable, that was astonishingly disregarded. A memorandum, regarding Highgate from a Captain Tate, a medical officer at Richmond Barracks, Ireland, provides us with yet another tragic caveat to Highgate’s case. We can ascertain that Highgate seemed to have suffered from amnesia. During Highgate’s time serving at sea, he was traumatically caught up in two ship wrecks, falling from a great height, and was struck by a bout of yellow fever. Highgate’s naval employment sheet, records that although he was ‘continually absent,’ he was a ‘good worker.’ As a consequence, to ascertaining Highgate’s medical history, on the afternoon of Highgate’s arrest, he was medically examined by Captain Moss of the Royal Army Medical Corps. Moss wrote: ‘I have this day examined No.10061 Pte Thomas James Highgate Royal West Kent Regiment and find him in sound mental and bodily health fit to undergo imprisonment with or without hard labour.’ What is bewildering is the medical history notes, informant of Highgate’s mental incapacity appears to have been disregarded as nonsensical by the medical officer. Effectively, Highgate’s hasty ‘trial’ and execution does not appear to have met the basic, theoretical requirements of what constitutes justice and law.

Two hours before Thomas Highgate’s execution on September 8th, 1914, Assistant Adjutant and Quartermaster General of the 5th division, drafted an urgent note in his field notepad. He wrote: The Lt. General (i.e. Smith-Dorrien, the II Corps commander) would like you to arrange for the death sentence to be promulgated and carried out at once, as publicly as convenient.’ Ten minutes later, he drafted a separate order to the divisional Provost Marshal including the specific details of Highgate’s execution that had to be adhered to. The note included the need to fulfil the right to allow Highgate forty-five minutes alone with a clergy man before his death and that a burying party must wait behind as the BEF were advancing across the Marne at this point. In the Provost Marshal’s response, we learn that the Cheshire and Dorset regiments were forced to stand in rows and watch as Thomas Highgate was executed. These men would have indefinitely gone back to their regiments, passing on the grave warning which would have spread like wild fire amongst the ranks achieving precisely what the military authorities wanted and needed.

Women ‘giving’ their sons to the war effort became the quintessential emblem of feminine sacrifice: these were the celebratory tones of pride and worth which reverberated through society. Women symbolically evoked the fertility and wealth of the nation’s natural resources and its historic foundations and so informing mothers their sons had died in war was always actioned immediately and with care. When a soldier was lost to the war, Lord Kitchener’s note of sympathy accompanied the devastating telegram. In the instance of Private Highgate, the note of condolence was omitted, and his mother was abruptly informed her son was ‘killed on the 8th.’ After the chilling blast from the volley of gun shots, Highgate slumped to the ground, and as the stunned spectators began to disperse, their memories of war forever seared with what they were involuntarily forced to bear to witness to, the burying party lifted Highgate’s crumpled body, carrying him towards his ‘make-shift’ grave. As Highgate’s burying party shoveled the earth on top of his body, somewhere on the outskirts of Tournan, we know they were the last pairs of eyes to witness where he now anonymously lays.

The shots from that gun that killed Thomas Highgate echoes still. The case of Thomas Highgate evidently still provokes fierce emotions and difficult questions today. In 2000, the dispute erupted over the addition of Thomas Highgate’s name to the Shoreham war memorial. In the community organised poll, by a Reverend Barry Simmons, 170 votes to 46 were counted, to add Highgate’s name to the 1920 erected memorial in his birth-town; the same memorial he was omitted from because of his desertion. However, despite the assumption the council would respect the result, the council decided that due to their hung-jury, with ‘four older councilors’ including the chairwoman and vice-chairman voting against carving his name, Highgate would remain absent from the commemorative plaque. Extraordinary reactions subsequently followed ranging from members of the community bursting in tears of sorrowful frustration, to enraged Royal British Legion members denouncing the very idea of adding Highgate’s name. It is a widely shared view that history cannot be re-written, and that Highgate should not be commemorated in the same was as soldiers who fell in combat because he ‘abandoned’ his comrades. Tensions are patently complicated here, but one man which special emotional attachment is Terence Highgate: Private Highgate’s great nephew, who has tirelessly campaigned to honor his uncle on this memorial. Newspaper coverage around 2000 recorded that councilors of the village stated if Private Highgate was ever pardoned, his name would be added. In 2006, Private Highgate was one amongst the 306 posthumously pardoned soldiers of the Great War. Highgate’s name was never added to the Shoreham memorial. Highgate’s name is however, engraved onto the 1921 Sidcup war memorial with his two brothers: Joseph Edward and Robert. Alice Highgate lost three of her sons in successive years following Thomas. She was living near Sidcup in 1921 when a call for names for a local memorial was put out. This was a time when the concept of seeing Thomas amongst the names of soldiers who died ‘gallantly’ in war time would have been despicable, yet Alice somehow succeeded in seeing all three of her sons acknowledged. Perhaps a courageous Alice, deviously submitted her Thomas’ name, only wanting what most grieving wartime mothers would; but we do not know when exactly Alice found out the truth that her son was executed for desertion.

Highgate’s case is all the more poignant by the revelation of his intrinsic humanity in the handwritten note on the last page of his soldier’s active service pay-book, whereby his will bequeaths his government pay arrears for service to a Miss. Mary McNulty of no.3 Leinster Street, Philsborough, Dublin. It would appear, Mr. Thomas Highgate, whilst stationed in Dublin, found himself a sweetheart. Miss. McNulty was never to receive any money, nor no doubt the direct information her lover was dead.

Highgate was awarded a ‘Mons Star’ for his bravery whilst fighting, only later to stripped of it for desertion. The machinery of the state and military law overran Highgate and made him a scapegoat for all the issues of discipline and expectation they were suffering during the early phases of the war. The state trampled on Highgate, and for many penitent decades, disallowed him a posthumous legacy, other than branding him a coward.