Armistice Day: Centenary

Baroness Scott of Needham Market Excerpts

Monday 5th November 2018 Lords Chamber

[Baroness Scott of Needham Market (LD)]

On 1 March 1918, a 50 year-old master mariner named John Jones died at sea while serving as first mate on HMS “Penvearn”. A member of the Royal Naval Reserve, he had sailed the Atlantic convoy right through the First World War. I know about John Jones because he was my great-grandfather, but what little I knew as I was growing I learned from my grandmother. He had gone to sea as boy, progressed quickly through the ranks and ultimately went down with his ship. I know a lot more about him now. He did indeed go to sea as a boy; his first voyage was on a ship named the “Quarryman”. He became a second mate at age 24 and married the following year. He achieved his master’s certificate at the age of 35 and a lot more besides. And I know that, on 1 March 1918, his ship was torpedoed by U-boat “105”, 15 miles north-west of South Stack head, Holyhead.

At the same time, a few hundred miles away in Bradford, William Thomas Riley had been demobbed after being injured in the trenches. What I knew about this great-grandfather I learned from my father because, unlike John Jones, William Riley lived to a ripe old age—long enough to send a card noting and congratulating the birth of his first great-grandchild Rosalind, which I still have. I knew only that he had gone to war, came back and then never spoke of what had happened to him. I also knew that, for the rest of his life, his behaviour could be erratic. My father said, in characteristic understated Yorkshire style, “He was a rum lad, my grandad”.

I found out many years after my father’s death that Private William Thomas Riley was a labourer. He was five feet five, had hazel eyes and brown hair, and weighed 130 pounds, so small and probably under- nourished, like so many working-class men of that generation. He enlisted on 2 September 1914, no doubt inspired by Kitchener’s call five days earlier for a battalion of pals to fight shoulder to shoulder for the honour of Britain.

I learned that on 30 December 1914 he was buried in a trench collapse, when he was somewhere near Armentières. After being rescued, his physical injuries were treated, but he was never again whole. Of course, we would now recognise that this rum lad had in fact spent the rest of his life suffering from post-traumatic stress, as did so many of that generation. The men who left Bradford, accompanied by marching bands and cheered on by tens of thousands of people, came quietly home to families grieving for the men who they once knew.

I wanted to use today’s debate to celebrate and honour brave men such as John Jones and William Thomas Riley, but also to recognise and celebrate the individuals and organisations, many of them voluntary, which since then have painstakingly preserved, interpreted and made accessible so much of the public record. They have enabled many thousands of people like me to learn more than they could ever have believed possible about their ancestors. Their contribution is immense because in the facts they reveal and the stories they tell they make sure that collective and individual histories are preserved and remain to be celebrated and learned from by generations to come.

From Commonwealth War Graves Commission records I learned the names of John Jones’s parents, taking my research back a generation. I learned that his name, along with the 21 other crew members who lost their lives that day, is inscribed on the Tower Hill Memorial, which commemorates more than 50,000 merchant seamen who died in two world wars.

Much of the Navy and Army history upon which I drew came from the National Archives, for which I am a non-executive board member. Its professionalism and skill in keeping a public record of more than 1,000 years safe and accessible is world-leading. Nowadays, access to records is no longer limited to those who can get to Kew. It is open to all online through a system called Discovery, on which 32 million records—9 million of them downloadable—are available. Many millions more are available through the National Archives partnership with commercial organisations such as Ancestry and Find My Past. To commemorate this anniversary, the National Archives will be displaying the treaty of Versailles and the Armistice agreement in the Keeper’s Gallery.

The UK National Maritime Museum, the British Newspaper Archive and the Imperial War Museum all provide wonderfully rich seams of information, as do the archives of companies such as Tate & Lyle and charities such as Barnardo’s. Local authority archives are a wonderful source of information which should be treasured. I am very nervous that the poor state of local authority finances will endanger their integrity and the access that local public record offices offer. Those of us with roots in west Yorkshire are fortunate that the archive service there is excellent and was at the forefront of digitisation. This must be preserved.

There are many small voluntary groups which work in highly specialist areas, such as the Welsh Mariners Index and the Maritime Archaeology Trust, both of which helped my research. There are also many local organisations, researchers and writers who celebrate the rich history of their neighbourhoods. We heard that so powerfully from the noble Baroness, Lady Andrews, when she described what happened in Lewes. David Raw’s immaculately researched book Bradford Pals is such a powerful evocation of my great-grandfather’s experience. David Raw reminds us that of the first 100 pals to enlist, 39 were killed and 19, like my great-grandfather, were sufficiently seriously wounded to be permanently discharged. There is also the work of local war memorial trusts, which care for the monuments themselves but also transcribe them and research the people on them.

This is a powerful coming together of government, private sector and civil society activity which is transforming the discipline of local and family history. They have all contributed so much to this four-year celebration. They have helped us to understand and know these brave forebears of ours, these ordinary people who did extraordinary things, and in knowing them better, we can honour them more.