I was determined to have a coffee
with James in Rochdale’s main cemetery. The problem with main cemeteries is
their capacious stretch and this was no different from others I’ve visited –
acres of land and dead folk from paupers to local politicians. There was a new
section but graves created before the nineteen eighties seemed to be scattered
about randomly. I walked around for about forty minutes to find this chap but
he was worth it. I had a hot coffee and a flapjack with a headstone that was
capturing low November sunlight.
James left school at 14 and was a day-labourer. At
21 he enlisted in the Lancashire Fusiliers. By 24 he was an acting company
sergeant major and fighting in the First world War. His
noteworthy day came during the attack at Happegarbes
in France on Saturday 2nd November 1918. He was commanding of a platoon
instructed to advance forward to better the British position. The platoon was being
bombarded by heavy German gun-fire, mostly from spraying bullets from four
machine-guns. James and his men stormed ahead facing a likely death. When James
reached the enemy he single-handedly bayonetted the enemy. With what remained
of the platoon he led them forward, captured three
more machine-guns and took many prisoners. Later that day they faced more enemy
machine-guns. James led a tank over exposed ground and destroyed enemy
positions. The next day he captured many more prisoners and allowed the British
Army to advance further. Two days later in the attack on the Oise-Sambre Canal he found himself under heavy gunfire again.
Without regard for his safety he rushed bravely or madly with a Lewis Gun and
silenced the enemy's fire.
He was awarded the Victoria Cross at Buckingham
Palace in February 1919. He did not find
much success in civilian life. With three
children to support he bought a barrel organ and played it for money around
Manchester Streets (while his wife worked in a cotton mill.) In 1933 he went to
London and was arrested by police for obstructing a footpath. In court he wore
his war medals and was discharged on probation when the judge heard of his
impressive deeds. He was healthy enough to participate in the World War II
Victory Parade on 8th June 1946 but died of pneumonia aged 54 the
following year at Birch Hill Hospital in Rochdale.
I had a coffee by the headstone which was caught
in low bright November sunlight. The burial here was attended with full
military honours but, despite such shimmering bravery, a simple wooden cross stood
here for 47 years. Thankfully the Lancashire Fusiliers Regimental Association
paid for this brill headstone. I did a hearty salute with a woman and children
watching and drove to Shaw to visit my Uncle Derek.
Having a coffee
with the lad…
Going to the VC
dinner in 1929…
The headstone
caught in the sunlight…