First World War

Lord Jenkin of Roding Excerpts

Wednesday 25th June 2014 Lords Chamber

[Lord Jenkin of Roding (Con)]

My Lords, the House has listened to a number of extremely moving speeches. Much has been made of the fact that World War I involved virtually every family in the land. I have been encouraged to say a few words about the involvement of my own family. I do so in no sense of belief that it is in any way unique but simply because it might be illustrative, an example of what many millions of people went through at the same time. That includes not just the armed services but those who made their contribution in other services.

I begin with my paternal grandfather. He was the first professor of engineering at Oxford University. The department was set up in 1908 and in 1914 it was entirely dispersed so that staff could take part in the war and play their role. My grandfather was swiftly swept up by the then Ministry of Munitions and found himself helping to design improvements to the aircraft that were by then being used on the Western Front. The frail, wooden-framed, canvas-covered planes were almost the first example of air power being used in war. In fact, he invented a new, more robust covering. There is a story about that but not time for me to tell it. If anybody wants to know it, I will tell them later.

His nephew, Louis Jenkin, joined the first squadron of the Royal Flying Corps when the war broke out. He fought on the Western Front, was awarded the MC and Bar and died on active service—he went on a mission and never returned. His name is recorded on the memorial to which my noble friend referred in his impressive opening speech, the memorial at Arras, where all the flying services are commemorated.

My grandfather’s younger son had always wanted to be a naval officer. He went to the Dartmouth Naval College before the war and served in the Navy. He was in action in the North Sea—whether at the Battle of Jutland, I know not, but he certainly saw service against the German Navy. Sadly, he succumbed to appendicitis and peritonitis. There were no drugs then, and I have no doubt that the medical services on board ship were fairly rudimentary, but I and the family still regard my Uncle Conrad as a casualty of World War I.

His sister joined the famous Room 40 at the Ministry of Defence. I am sorry that my noble friend Lady Trumpington is not here, because they were the Bletchley Girls of the First World War, the Ministry of Defence’s intelligence service. I know not what they did, because she never spoke about it. She regarded it as entirely confidential and secret. She became quite well known in later life and was known to millions of children as Aunt Elizabeth in the BBC radio programme, “Children’s Hour”. She eventually succeeded Uncle Mac as the head of that service.

I think it will interest my noble friend Lord Gardiner to know that my mother’s brother joined the Army right at the start of the war. I have to say that I never thought that he was cut out to be a soldier, but he fought at Gallipoli. He was so horrified and appalled by the slaughter that he witnessed that when he returned to civilian life in the Civil Service, he insisted on joining what was then called the Imperial War Graves Commission. He spent his entire career in the Civil Service with the commission. He became an expert on the cemeteries all over the world. He had huge admiration for Sir Fabian Ware, who had set up the commission even during the war. I was interested to read the brief description of the commission’s work in the excellent note we had from the Library, which chimed very much with my uncle’s career. He eventually rose to be financial secretary of the commission—it was his entire life’s work. I just mention his younger brother, who was also in the Navy, who was too young to fight in World War I, but served after that and was tragically killed in an accident on HMS “Courageous”.

The noble Viscount, Lord Slim, was a very good friend of General Sir Philip Christison, who became a very famous general in World War II. In World War I, Philip Christison served in the Cameron Highlanders and was severely wounded on the Western Front. His own brother, John, was killed at the same time. Philip was invalided out but he made the Army his career and in World War II, he was the first general to beat the Japanese on land and took their surrender at Singapore in 1945.

I have left to the last our most poignant memorial of the war: my father’s involvement. He was the professor’s elder son and he joined the Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry as a subaltern. He fought on the Western Front and, at the Battle of the Somme, he was hit by a bullet from a German machine gun. Mercifully, it hit his helmet. Unlike the noble Lord, Lord Laming, who has that famous envelope in his pocket, I have always understood that to bring visual images into the House is against the rules. However, we have that helmet at home with a hole in it and it is a very treasured memorial for my family as without that helmet, none of us would be here. My whole family depends on the fact that my father survived.

I mention all this not because my family was in any way unusual—millions of others did the same—but because it is a very good reason why we are commemorating the First World War in the way that my noble friend described so admirably at the beginning of the debate. As others have referred to, it is right that we should commemorate that war in which so many millions of people were involved. This is an opportunity to remember and to ponder.