With thanks to Historian Debbie Cameron who sent me this information
and information about "My Bivouac" poem
Isaac Hodgson (1887 - 1918) – Gunner in the Border Regimen
Parents George and Elizabeth Hodgson. Sister Mary. On researching him, I discovered that Isaac went back to the trenches and sadly died almost a year to the day after the poem was published, on 27th August 1918.
His sister, Mary, was his next of kin and dependant, who as such received 13/- (thirteen shillings) a week for a year after his death. The epigraph of his Commonwealth War Grave Commission headstone that Mary had provided read “We little thought, when home on leave, he said his last goodbye”
Tragically, Isaac was only 24 when he died.
However, on further research I discovered a mystery - the same poem was sent to the same local paper in Penrith – but a year later! This time it was attributed to a G. Rushforth of the same regiment.
I found this out because someone wrote into the paper pointing it out!
I discovered the second version of the poem was by George Rushforth (sometimes called Rushfirth) who was awarded the Military Medal in 1918.
As the editor of the paper said, we will never know which who the original poet was, although logically it might have been the man who sent it in first? "
Debbie Cameron, 22 July 2023
George Rushforth, MM (sometimes called Rushfirth) ( - ) - Border Regiment
BUT The Mystery Deepens
Following Debbie’s message to me, I researched the poem and discovered it was also attributed to others. The Beds & Herts Saturday Telegraph: February 17th, 1917 -
Albert Carrinton ( - ) -
Pte Albert Carrington, serving with the Cheshire Regiment, described himself as "an old Luton milkman" when he sent a poem home to 2 South Road, Luton. About his dear old shanty bivouac in which he was living on the Western Front, Albert wrote:
"My Bivouac"
It's only some rags and canvas
Nailed to a blooming tree
There ain't no name on the fanlight
'Cos there ain't no fanlight, see!
It's a shanty knocked up quickly
With wire and bits of string;
It ain't no Buckingham Palace
And I don't feel a king.
For my bed, an old torn oilsheet
One blanket to roll around.
Where the 'chats,' the ants, the beetles
Find a happy hunting ground.
It's a spring - no, not a mattress;
It's the mud on Flanders floor.
As for mud, we beats the Navy,
We Somme-timers get washed ashore.
When the boys march past,oh, blimey!
'That takes it' you'll hear them say
But to me it's a dear old bivvy,
Where I write and sleep and pray.
There's holes in the roof from shrapnel
And in the sides as well.
Sometimes it's peace and quietude
More often it's perfect hell!
I love my dear old bivvy
For the things it does contain;
Photos fixed on the canvas
Of those I hope to meet again.
On the floor there's fag ends lying,
To waste them would be a sin;
Tomorrow I'll have to smoke them
With the end of a blooming pin.
Pte Carrington volunteered for Army service in August 1915 and, after being drafted to the Western Front, saw action at Arras, Bullecourt, Ypres, The Somme and Cambrai. He survived the war and was demobbed in December 1919 with the British War Medal and Victory Medal.
[Beds & Herts Saturday Telegraph: February 17th, 1917]
http://www.worldwar1luton.com/blog-entry/ode-battlefield-bivouac
And a version attributed to Thomas Conway
https://thepeoplespicture.com/thomas-conway/
Thomas Conway MM ( - ) - Company Sergeant Major 21671, 6th Bn, York and Lancaster Regiment. Son of Mr and Mrs S Conway of Artisan Street Sheffield.
https://www.wartimememoriesproject.com/greatwar/allied/battalion.php?pid=4988
If anyone can help solve this mystery, please get in touch.
Thank you. Lucy London, 31st July 2023.
