Fred
Greaves (16th May 1890 to 11th June 1973)
After a long weekend in Scarborough I drove home a longer
way across the Humber bridge and into Lincolnshire. The rural route was
beautiful so I was disappointed that it went dark too early. I stayed in a
Travelodge but when I pulled open the curtains in the morning I didn’t see
verdant countryside but sleet and snow. The country roads had taken so much
rain that many were blocked (driving through a deep puddle the car engine
chugged and stopped temporarily.) I
couldn’t reach a couple of cemeteries on my list due to floods however I drove
home via Derbyshire to see a small patch of grass on which some ashes had been
cast in 1973 (these Victoria Cross soldiers are worth it.) There was not a soul
at Chesterfield Crematorium when I pulled at in the empty car park - just a few
birds looking for food in the slush.
Fred
was born in 1890. His dad was a coal miner hewer
(meaning he cut coal at the seam) and I hope he brought in plenty of money as
he and his wife Edith had twelve children.
Fred was the eldest and followed his pop underground. By this
twenties he was away fighting in the First World War. Aged 27 he was acting
corporal in The Sherwood Foresters fighting in the Battle of Broodseinde in Belgium (a successful attack that devastated
German defences and morale so deeply it caused them to withdraw.) On Thursday 4th
October 1917 Fred’s platoon was held up by machine-gun fire from Germans
secured in a concrete stronghold. The platoon commander and sergeant had been
shot. Fred and a comrade ran forward expecting to die in a web of machine gun bullets.
However they reached the back of the building and threw bombs in, killing or
capturing the garrison and the machine-gun. Later that afternoon in another battle
Fred saw all the officers had been shot or killed. Being the Corporal in charge
he gathered the remaining men and they fired rifle and machine-guns together to
ensure the Sherwood Foresters could make pivotal advances.
After the war he returned to the coal mines and
became safety officer at Markham Colliery and worked for St John’s Ambulance
Division. On 10th May 1938 - more bravery: a pit accident led to the deaths of
79 miners and Fred spent a week trying to dig out survivors.
He married Harriet and they had two children. He
was a quiet reserved man, a teetotaller and a prominent member of Barlborough Primitive Methodist Church. During the Second
World War he served in Civil Defence. Once while approaching Buckingham Palace
for a Victoria Cross social event the taxi driver asked which entrance he would
like to be dropped off at. “Any,” said Fred. When the driver looked back and
saw Fred putting on his medals he said, “You’re definitely going in the main
entrance, mate.” (Hope he didn’t charge him.) Though Fred was awarded a
Victoria Cross for bravery it’s surprising he was still alive to fight in the
Battle of Broodseinde. A year earlier he’d been shot
in the back.
Much later while working down the coals pits he
was climbing into a coal wagon and pain shot down his leg. His friends thought
he was joking when he said, “Ouch, that’s my bullet.” Thirty-six years after it
had been shot from a German Mauser he had it removed.
He died at home nearby in Brimington aged 83.
In the twenty minutes I was at the crematorium I
didn’t see anyone. I stood in a puddle to brush snow off a pre-printed plan of
the gardens and see where Plot 9 was. Fred’s ashes were sprinkled there. I
didn’t mind getting wet feet though - this bloke was worth it. He’d been the
eldest of twelve children, followed his dad down the coal pit when he was just
13. He was knocked over by a coal truck breaking two legs and crushing his
pelvis and was in Chesterfield hospital for two years. When he was discharged
he had to walk nine miles to get home as his parents could not afford the bus
fare. For the remainder of his life a bone protruded from under his skin,
causing him pain. He’d tried to join the army aged 24 but was refused due to
his injuries. Once he was taken prisoner by the Germans who jabbed him so often
with bayonets his uniform ended in up in shreds. He was saved by an officer who
yelled “Keep still Greaves!” before shooting his two captors.
Fred was worth
visiting. I did a final salute facing Plot 9 and set off home barefoot (drying
my socks on the air vents.)
Fred is the second man along (at
Buckingham Palace to get the VC)…
Plot 8 where Fred’s ashes were
scattered…
Pointing at the bullet which was
stuck in Fred’s body for 36 years…
