ALBERT ‘SMILER’ MARSHALL (103) (1897-2005)
Albert ‘Smiler’ Marshall was Britain’s last surviving cavalryman from World War One. He volunteered for the army under age and survived service in the trenches to become a groom to successive masters of foxhounds. Five years before his death he was interviewed at his Ashtead home.
Interview date: 11 April, 2000
Location: Ashtead
Interviewer: Edwina Vardey
Why ‘Smiler’?
My name is Albert Eliot Marshall. Why am I called Smiler? On my 18th birthday we were in training just outside Colchester. We were in private billets and the snow was on the ground. It was March 15. I was in the Essex Yeomanry. Of course, I was a bit of a devil, you can imagine that. We were having physical jerks, trunk forward, bend and that sort of thing before breakfast. The rally was at half past six in the morning and before breakfast we had physical jerks. As I bent down I rolled a snowball. I was in the second rank, a rank about the width of this room. I upped with that snowball and I hit the bloke in the front on the behind with the snowball. Of course he jumped up quick laughing didn’t he. He looked this way and that. He didn’t know where it came from. He didn’t know it was me.
Did he call you Smiler?
I haven’t finished. I’m telling you. So there were two jumped up at the same time laughing at the bit of fun but the sergeant, Sergeant Beavis from Clacton on Sea, who was taking us, says: “This is very funny. You can make your mother’s heart but you won’t break mine.” He says: “I’m talking to you.” I looked this way and that, looking innocent, you see. But he says: “You, Smiler.” So when I met my pals the next morning they said: “Morning Smiler” and that’s gone on right the way to this very day. That was 1915, before you were born.
Early years
I was born in a little village called Elmstead Market, just as far the other side of Colchester as I was when I got the nickname Smiler.
How many brothers and sisters did you have?
One brother, one sister. They are both dead.
What did your father do?
He was an agricultural engineer and he had a threshing tackle. There’s combines now but the old thresher pulled an oil drum and elevator. Marshalls were on the threshing machines, you see.
What about your mother?
My mother died ………. the day after Queen Victoria.
You were all very young when your mother died?
Yes. I went to school when I was two and half because my mother was ill and I carried on there right through the school at Elmstead right through the whole time until I left. I left school at 13 because I was an apprentice and if you were an apprentice or got a job you could leave at 13 but if you hadn’t you had to go on until you were 14 and then you could leave.
You were apprenticed to what?
Shipwright, the shipyard. At a place called Wivenhoe, the next village to Elmstead. A little town really. My brother was two years older than me and when in 1914 when war broke out, the First World War, August 4, Lord Kitchener and the heavyweight boxer at that time, Jack Johnson, were visiting the cavalry barracks at Colchester. A big garrison town, Colchester. Like Aldershot. He put out all these display cards about which you have heard: Your Country Needs You. Asked all the young men to join, to form a fighting unit to be called Kitchener’s Army and my brother was the first one to join.
What was your brother’s name?
Arthur. Two years older than me. I only went from Easter to Whitsun and I didn’t like it – terrible so I ran away. My father says: “Come on boy. I was only 13. I had to walk two and a half to three miles to be there at half past six in the morning. I didn’t have a bicycle and there were no cars of course.
Signing up
At Christmas 1914, December, Devon and Somerset Yeomanry came on to Wivenhoe Park because – this was what the cavalry were for in the First World War – they came because the brook or river about a mile away – barbed wire along there – that was the place where if the Germans had landed on the east coast, that was the first line of defence. I used to have two ponies and I could ride as a little boy going to school.
Your father owned the ponies?
No, those two ponies were owned by the big house, Wivenhoe Park, which is now Essex University. They were private people and the coachman and the stud coachman – I worked under him from the start.
So when you ran away from being an apprentice you worked at the stables?
Yes.
These two ponies, I used to drive milk and eggs and chickens and things from the farm over to the big house in the morning and at night. So when I turned the ponies out I took their harnesses off so they had no saddle or bridle on and I used to give these Devon and Somerset [men] an exhibition of bolting over the horse, hopping and skipping up. They were so thrilled they asked their officer to ask me – I was only 17 you see – to ask me if I would join them as their mascot.
So you became the mascot?
No, I didn’t. I didn’t join. I said no. Then the officer said: “My soldiers are so keen on you they want you to join them.” I said: “Well all my farmer friends and farmers’ sons are in the Essex Yeomanry and that’s where I want to go. Where my friends are. They were all right, a nice lot of fellows, but I didn’t know anybody.”
When it come Christmas week of 1914 I went up to Colchester to the Essex Yeomanry recruiting office and knocked on the door. “Come in!” The sergeant major said “Morning. What can I do for you?” I said: “I’d like to join the Essex Yeomanry. That’s where all my friends are.” He says: “Oh, I see. What’s your name. How old are you?” When I said 17 he said: “You sure?” I said yes. “What year were you born”. I told him.
He said: “Go outside that door and think it over.” I went outside the door and as I did a fellow I didn’t know – I haven’t seen him from that day to this so I don’t know who he was – he come in the back door there and said: “Hello. Are you going to join up?” I said I didn’t know. I had been in once but I must go away as ordered. He said: “I’m going to join the Royal Horse Artillery, come with me.” I said: “Well all my pals are in the Essex Yeomanry. They are waiting but the sergeant major sent me out.” He said: “What for?” I told him. He said: “Yes of course you can’t get in until you’re 18.” So I said: “All right. I’ll try once more and if I can’t get in I’ll come with you.” So he said right. I knocked on the door and heard “Come in!” He said: “Morning, who are you?” I told him. He said: “What can I do for you?” So I told him the same thing again – I’d like to join the Essex Yeomanry.” He said: “How old are you?” I said 18 so within ten minutes I had gained a year.
War experience
My brother went in…..
He was in Kitchener’s Army and he didn’t live long.
He wasn’t killed. He died of scarlet fever down here at Hove. Kitchener’s Army had an epidemic of fever ands he was one of them who died.
After my brother died there came a message to the Essex Yeomanry second line – second regiment – they said they had had rather a setback and they wanted a sergeant and ten men. Our was a volunteer regiment and as they asked for volunteers I was one of them.
They sent us to the cavalry barracks at Colchester with the 20th Hussars and we passed out with everything there and then were sent to France in September 1915.
There I stopped up and down in France right through the First World War and everything and I know it inside out. I was in every battle front that you can think of.
Did you ever get injured?
Oh yes. In the hand.
What was that, a bullet?
I don’t know because the blood was running and you don’t know whether it was a bullet or shrapnel. It doesn’t matter because when that hits you it’s red hot, you know.
I got to Rouen casualty clearance station and I got home to England and up to Newcastle, Northumberland war hospital. I got better there and they sent me to Eastbourne for two months convalescent.
Well they sent me to Aldershot and couldn’t soldier there after being so easy going. In France it was so easy going – everybody’s the same and all friends when you were in the trenches.
Did you lose many friends?
Oh crumbs, yes. The first night I went up the line and two colleagues from my troop. The troop consisted of 32 soldiers. There were four troops in a squadron which you would call a battalion, three squadrons in a brigade, three brigades in a division, and there were three divisions of cavalry in France. So that let’s you know that it was a terrific lot wasn’t it? So you can easily add that up.
Did you lose a lot of horses?
Yes, we lost quite a lot, quite a few. Yes, all up and down the line they did, you see and of course we only knew just where we were.
They weren’t buried very deep because there were thousands of shell holes. If you know a better hole goes to it, that’s what that means. If you could see a better – deeper – shell hole, go in it.
The worst of war
All the people ……..wanted to know everything about the Somme. But I tell you, that wasn’t the worst thing I saw.
What was the worst?
The Metz wood. We were on a working party. The cavalry besides on guard run away from Mons down the whole front to Verdun, the French. We used to move every day, we had to go out with the horses. So we moved from Ashtead to Leatherhead and so on. They moved on and we moved out of here into there. That was to exercise your horses. So you stood in readiness, didn’t matter where the Germans broke through, whoever was on guard was there, you see. Well you had to go and stop them. Three out of four, the cavalry. You went forward. They were good fighters, the Germans, but they couldn’t stand the lance and the sword. As soon as they saw that lance and sword coming at them they scarpered and back into their trench as quick as they could. Because if they did hang fire they were either killed, wounded or taken prisoner.
Metz Wood, yes. The Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry, the whole regiment, over 300, they come out, all young fellows, and we were in the Metz village on a working party, mending the trenches and all sorts of things. This is what the cavalry also done. They come out from England and at four o’clock in the afternoon come into the Metz village where we were and put their packs up. They had got that as their objective. The next morning reveille was at half past six – zero hour at half past six – and their objective was that after two days and two nights of our artillery…our artillery done nothing else, just like thunder and lightning. Two days and two nights – ceaseless – set on the German lines and communications and all that. The Oxford and Bucks went over at half past six the next morning. Their objective was to capture the Metz Wood. By about ten minutes to nine there was about three or four left. The whole lot were wiped out. After all that bombardment. There were hardly any left.
The next wave, the Royal Army Medical Corps didn’t have to fight you know. There was one with every troop and he carried a white flag. In war if you carried a white flag the enemy don’t shoot. They could have killed us, of course. So we buried them. We rolled these into shell holes….
Yes the whole lot. There were thousands of shell holes. If there was a big hole we put two in. Just covered a little dirt over them so all that – and I’ve been down since, to Belgium and was shown where it was. All that no man’s land, it don’t matter where you went down there I said you would be tramping on dead men. That was the worst sight I saw. I saw plenty of one, two, three, badly wounded and all that and I escorted quite a lot of ten, 20, 50 German prisoners. The infantry used to follow us up.
As for the Scots….if ever the Germans took our front line today you wouldn’t stop any Scottish regiment. They could be bored stiff. Over the top they’d go immaterial of how many got killed. That didn’t worry them. Off they went and they’d capture back again.
Officer’s groom
I hadn’t been in until I was just 18 and in my week there were two officers of the Essex Yeomanry there, Captain ? and Major Hayward. Major Hayward said: “I can see you’re the best rider here.” If you’d got a horse you could take your own horse and the government paid you for it. He said: “Next Saturday when I go home to Newmarket, Suffolk, I’m going to bring back two of my hunters. I want you to look after them.” So by the time I was just over 18 in March, April or May 1915 I was an officer’s groom. Of course your credentials go with you so wherever I went right through the war when they saw an officer’s groom they were all falling over each to see who could get me. So I was an officer’s groom right up to the end of the war. I finished up in Ireland. My officer who I was with, he was regular soldier. He said: “Come with me. I’ve got 12 more years to do and I’ve got a posting to Hong Kong. So sign on and come with me as my groom.” But I didn’t.
I says I want to go home to England to marry my school sweetheart.
Family man
You married your school sweetheart. How many children did you have?
Five. We thought we’d got the ideal family. We went on and on. That was all right for four years and then, blow my boots, we had twins. I’ve got one now. The only one I’ve got left.
I’ve got 14 grandchildren, 22 great-grandchildren and five great-great- grandchildren.
Are they all keen on horses?
Well I can’t tell you that. But most of them are keen because I am.
Do they live nearby?
Yes, Dorking or Betchworth. That’s the nearest. Then there’s my son at Kingston. But I’ve got them all over the world. I’ve taught all them girls to ride.
Groom to a master of hounds
When I came home, my wife and I….. I tell you there were no cars, we’d both got bicycles by then. Nobody come to our school on bicycles but after the war started everybody started to get them. So my wife and I …there was a flower show, garden show, at Elmstead and Great Bromley – like Ashtead and Leatherhead. One year at Ashtead, one year at Leatherhead. It was one year at Elmstead, one year at Bromley. This year that was at Bromley so we cycled over and as I was walking around, rushing flat bang coming towards me was Captain ? in the Essex Yeomanry. He said: “Good gracious me.” He wanted to know where had I been, what I’d been doing. So he said: “Are you married?” I said yes and I called Flo (Florence) and I introduced her to him. He says: “Well, come with me.” We went across the flower show ground, through the rectory and there were two lovely little orchards with fruit trees – plums, apples, pears – everything and blackberries all the way round. We went into one of them and he says: “There you are, look.” There was the foot-in of a bungalow. He said: “You see that’s put in. When that’s finished, if you like that will be yours because you are the exact man I want.”
He’d got a stud groom and three other grooms up at the big house. He was Master of the Hounds. He knew what he’d got on his mind but he never told me then. In the next one he built another bungalow so we had two lovely fruit orchards. They split the hounds up, Essex and Suffolk. We had the Essex side. He was Master of the Essex side and another gentleman was Master of the Suffolk side. We had all the bitches and they had all the dogs so we done all the breeding.
Did your wife work in the big house?
Yes. She used to go for a couple of days because they had a full, a terrific staff – a butler, footmen, parlour maids and all sorts – everything. This is [where] Essex University [is] now. They had 12 [staff] when I was there.
We married in 1924 to about 1930 until Mr Crossman died and I represented the horses to help bury him. Before that he pulled up one day – they were brewers in London, which they are today, Crossman. He pulled up and said: “How would you like to go into scarlet?” Well I tell you, my scarlet coat is in there. I said: “No, I’m not man enough for that. I’m afraid I’m no good in a….” “Oh yes you are,” he says. “You’ve got what Bob ain’t got.” That was Bob who was leaving, my mate, who was whipper in. He says: “You’ve got a hound voice.” You can hear my voice, I’ve got a strong voice. He says: “You’ve got a hound voice that Bob ain’t got.”
Do you need a strong voice for whipping in hounds?
Oh yes. [Whoops and calls].
I nearly worked for royalty
………we got a staff car, the old fashioned Ford. That was the staff car. My wife wanted to go into Colchester which was four miles. So I was all dressed up, ever so posh, and she was ready to go to Colchester. In come a gentleman into the courtyard and he jumps out. He said: ” Good morning. can I detain you for about ten minutes?” I said: “Well, I’m sorry but can you come back? My wife is ready to go into town, into Colchester, and I’m ready.” He said: “Oh, it won’t take me about ten minutes. I just want to have a look at your horses and stables.” So I went whoop and all out come the horses – the photograph is in there – where they stuck their heads over the stable door. I’d finished up, you see, because I’d done all the stables because I’d taken them all out. Put their head collars and day rugs on. They looked a picture.
He said: “I’ve seen enough already but I will just look at your stables and of course all beautiful, the straw beds, beautiful. You know cause I’d done them. Disinfected, swept all…..inside the door. Beautiful because I was going out. “Well,” he says, “you were recommended to me and I’ll tell you what. The job is yours straight away. That was….. you know the Prince of Wales married…..and he abdicated. When he come to the throne he done away with the royal train and the Windsor greys. So this chap says: “I’ll tell you who I am. I’m in charge of the royal mews up in London. Your name has been recommended to me but I can see already, the job is yours.” His brother [George VI] come to the throne and he brought the train and the Windsor greys back. He says: “I want you to look after the Windsor greys.” So I could have the finest job in the country. So I said: “Well if can get in touch with Captain Muntford and give him a month’s notice…” He said: “I’ll give you six weeks to think it over.” But anyhow I couldn’t get in touch with him and I never got in touch with him.
Move to Surrey
Captain Muntford come home and I told him what had happened and I was running the horses point to point. He said: “Look, I’ve got some news to tell you. I want you and Mrs Marshall to come with me on Monday. I’ve bought a lovely little Tudor house in Farley Green, just outside Shere in Surrey. I want you to come with me on Monday.” So I told Mum and she said we’ll go and see. The butler where we were said: “If you go to Surrey you won’t come back to Essex. So and so went to Surrey and won’t come back any more.” So what happened was this. He picked up with a farmer’s daughter just outside Guildford – Farley Green – and he took her to the isle of Capri. So if I had known that I would have took the other job but I never knew that. Anyhow, we come to Surrey and saw this Tudor place, a lovely little cottage, beautiful little cottage, and nice stables. So I stayed there until the first week of the Second World War. 1940 [?]
[Inserted here: We come to Surrey and the lady Captain Muntford married didn’t believe in blood sports so we come here for the mid-Surrey drag hounds. So I know all the drag lines here. And that was that.]
He was a regular soldier, Captain Muntford, he done most of his time in South Africa. While he was in South Africa he bought a hotel in Nairobi. So as soon as the Second World War broke out he upped with his whippersnapper and off they went and that’s where they stayed.
He just give me what I’ve got in my pocket now. “A. Marshall ceases to be in my service a month from today.” So I had a month then to get another job. This one was advertised with this house.
Nearer my God to thee
So what about all these medals? You’ve got the Croix de Guerre the other day from the French.
The French Ambassador gave it to me at the National Museum up in London.
Did they take you back to France when it was the Normandy landings anniversary?
Yes, I’ve been twice. There are 14 of us left from the First World War – called the Old Contemptibles. I’m one of them.
How do you account for your long life?
Eat, drink and sleep. Do unto others as you would be done unto.
…….Our padre in the army, every time we went up the line he used to say a little prayer for us cause we lost somebody every night. He said: “However near you are to death there’s somebody nearer. If you can think of that, whatever is wrong with you or if you are depressed or fed up, if you think of somebody, if you have a friend who is very ill – you might have a friend with cancer – if you think of them, that will help you. I found out that if you fall down – May 12 1912 the Titanic went down and our Sunday school teacher went down with it. It always gives me the pleasure to think that he was leading the singing “Nearer my god to thee.” So if I fell down now, which I think of nearly every day, I think “Nearer my god to thee.”
Songs from the Great War
What about your 103rd birthday?
My girls took me out. All my hunting girls. Two or three times a year they take me out and one of them has been here today. She come and saw me this morning. They took me to The Plough at Fetcham. They take me there once or twice a year.
You’ve had a big fuss by the BBC. A lot of people came to see you.
Yes, they’ve got tapes of course of all my singing from the BBC, ITV, Channel 4.
Will you sing now?
I want to go home, I want to go home
The cannons they roar and they roar and they roar
I just don’t want to go up the line any more
Will you take me over the sea?
Those Germans they cannot get me
It’s oh my
I don’t want to die
I want to go home
So when I got home they put me on the boat and on the boat of course there you sing
Take me back to dear old Blighty
Put me on the train for London town
Take me over there
Just drop me anywhere
Birmingham, Leeds or Manchester
I just don’t care
For I shall be off to see my best girl
Cuddling up together we soon will be
Well hi tee tiddly hi ti
Take me back to Blighty
Blighty is the place for me
So I ……there and I says is the old lady still alive, my Mum? She says oh yes. In the second house there, the same as she did when you went away. So I said come on, we’ll go and see her.
She’s just an old fashioned lady
With old fashioned ways
And a smile that says welcome to you
An old fashioned bedside where she kneels and prays
When the toil of a long day is through
Though she wears no fine clothes or a rich silken hood
Yet there’s something that makes her divine
For the angels above taught me the way
How to love that old fashioned mother of mine.
Then H O M E as I said to her, spells “home” and the definition of that is
H stands for happiness that you should find there
O stands for old folks in the old armchair
M stands for mother, you’ll never find another, no matter where you roam
E stands for everyone and as everyone knows
HOME spells home.