Returning British History (Part 2)

World War 1 - An Unkept Promise 

CROSSING THE POND

   I started working on my presentation soon after I committed to the speaking engagement with the Western Front Association. My intent was practice a couple times a week in order to etch the speech into my memory. I wanted to make sure that nerves would not detract from giving a good presentation. 

I was satisfied with my arrangement right up to the time I started writing query letters to publishers. They want the author to explain why his book is different than others, what makes it unique. A great deal of thought went into analyzing how to answer that question because the composition of the story is complicated making it difficult to arrive at a simple answer. During the analysis process I realized whatever the resolution was, it had to be incorporated into the opening lines of the speech.

On September 3^rd we took off from Tampa on our way to New York, where we would board the flight to London. The flight would take around six hours and I used the time restructuring sentences in an attempt to describe an intangible sensory element which would separate my book from others. After countless feeble attempts I finally realized I was trying to describe a feel derived from a personal experience, like an amazing sunset – you cannot describe it, you experience it.  The journal entries are like the sunset, one must read them to comprehend their power. I could say that the story is based upon a personal war journal with compelling entries. However, the word compelling invokes a different understanding in each reader.

I have had a cross section of people, from my mother-in-law to WWI historians read the manuscript and almost in every instance the reader is astounded and emotionally impacted.

While working on the changes I could not help thinking of the hours I spent practicing the speech until I could hum it in my sleep. Yet I thought the changes were too important not to include them. I was trying to come up with the right word combinations to get my point across, but each revision fell short of my intended goal. After six hours I was no further along than I was when I started.

We landed at London’s Heathrow airport at 6:30 am on September 4^th and proceeded to customs. There were long lines which snaked back and forth creating visions of Disney World. We asked one of the border guards if it was always this crowed and he said that the lines were long because most international flights land in the morning.

While we waited in line I was concerned on how much time had passed since we landed. I had prearranged a cab to pick us up and according to their contract they would wait ninety minutes after your flight lands before leaving. They suggested that you call if you believe it will take longer than the allotted time. However, our cell phones were not programmed for international use so we were unable to call if we had to. The issue with an unusable phone would continue to be a problem as the week progressed.

We cleared customs, found our luggage and made contact with our driver within the 90 minute time frame. The driver told us that it would be a two hour drive to our accommodations at the ‘Think Apartments Bermondsey Street’.

 It was around 9:30 when we tried to check in only to be told that we could not check in until 3. Fortunately they allowed us to store our luggage. Now we had to figure out how to occupy ourselves for roughly six hours?

We exited the building and stepped out onto a narrow sidewalk, we stood there looking up and down the road trying to make a decision. We had not slept for over twenty-four hours so we were dead on our feet. Too tired to walk around for six hours, besides, we had no idea where we were or where to go.

While I was trying to check in, Lynne snatched one of the free city maps from the apartment lobby. Examining our options we decided to walk down to the River Thames and in the process my wife, Lynne, came up with a brilliant idea, pay for a tour on one of the double deck buses. After all it was a hot sunny fall day, perfect for riding on the upper deck of the bus. The tour was both informative and restful, plus it ended at 3 pm.

THE MISSING SPEAKER

One of my favorite laws about life is known as Murphy’s Law, which states ‘If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong and at the most in opportune time!’ During the trip I proved that the law is correct. I also validated one of my own theories, which I call the ‘50/50 80/20 rule ‘If you are faced with a decision with two possible outcomes, statistically your selection stands a fifty percent chance of being the correct one. However, I have found that once the decision is made, there is an eighty percent chance that the selection was the wrong one.’ These philosophies would play out during one of the most important nights of the trip.

 On the morning of the 5^th I was up early trying pickup where I left off working on the speech. It may have been jet lag or writer’s block but the words were not falling into place. When my wife came into the room she could see the frustration on my face. She inquired about what was stressing me out. After being married for 35 years I knew before I answered what her response would be. When I told her, she reacted right on quote telling me that I was nuts for trying to make changes at the last minute. She got that out of her system and asked me explain what I was trying to get across. While she listened to my inept explanation, she jotted down a few notes. Within a few minutes the queen of words solved the puzzle and made the necessary changes.

Using most of her changes I rewrote the beginning of the speech and then transferred the new document to a flash drive. We left in search of a printer, which was not far from our apartment. The printer had the capability of printing from a flash drive, so within minutes I had a new speech and less money.

Since it was another hot 85 degree day in London, we went about finding a shaded park where I could practice my speech. We tried our best but luckily we did not succeed, instead we found ‘The George Inn’. There was a placard attached to one of its brick walls. It stated that the Inn was a historical site where William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens often frequented; it failed to mention if they spent their time at the Inn or the tavern.

As an aspiring author what better company could I ask for? In fact I was so inspired I ordered Lynne and me a pint of beer in their honor.

I practiced my speech while downing my pint. After consuming my ale it was time to find our way back to our apartment and get ready.

 I dislike feeling rushed, so when we were dressed I had a cab pick us up and drive us to the Western Front Association’s venue. As we entered the cab there was only the slightest hint that Murphy’s Law was about to control the rest of the evening.

Forces were set in motion when the driver asked us ‘where too’, which triggered an ‘Oh shit’ moment when I remembered I left the address information in the room. However, I had my trusty laptop so all I had to do was pull up Tom’s email that contained the address. Without a WiFi connection I could not connect to the Internet. We were without both an address and Tom’s phone number. However, I did recall the name of the place ‘Barley Mow’. The diver said he never heard of the place so he looked it up on his smart phone. With his new found knowledge he entered the address into his GPS and we were off.

I started thinking ‘What if there is more than one Barley Mow?’ But what would be the odds of two places having the same odd name Barley Mow? The name was unique enough that the probability of two places with the same name would low, which fit nicely into my 50/50 – 80/20 rule.

It was rush hour in the grid lock city of London. I was grateful we left early because time was quickly passing while we were not. When it was approaching twenty minutes before the meeting, I wondered if we would make it on time. The cabbie dropped us off with ten minutes to spare. However, when I stepped out of the cab something did not feel right. There was a sign with Barley Mow printed on it, but seeing the sign did not satisfy my premonition that we were at the wrong Barley Mow.

Lynne and I went around asking strangers if they knew where the Western Front Association was having their meeting, in every case our question was answered with a blank face, no one heard of the Western Front Association.

I sat down on a curb and pulled my laptop out of my backpack. While I was frantically searching for an Internet connection, Lynne high jacked a young man as he exited a building. She told him our heart wrenching story and it must have touched him in some way. He was generous taking his time to help us. Using his smart phone he found the necessary information, verifying the fact, which we already knew, we were at the wrong place. Obviously there were two places with the same name and true to my 50/50, 80/20 rule, we selected the wrong one. He gave us the address of the correct Barley Mow and left us with one last bit of wisdom ‘use a black cab they will get you there faster.’ Using a traditional black cab comes with a benefit. They are the only cabs allowed to drive in the bus lanes, which enables them to bypass a great deal of traffic.  

Murphy’s Law continued to hound me! Usually cabs everywhere, except when we needed one. With Lynne in tow, we ran down the street in hopes of finding a cab. Lynne was smart; she stopped to ask someone if they knew where we would stand the best chance of catching a cab. She was directed to a local train station, which just happened to be a few blocks away.

 I was sprinting down the street towards the station looking into cabs as they passed in hopes one would be empty. When I arrived at the train station there was not a cab to be found. At this point I was getting desperate and panic stricken, a lethal combination which was drawing me towards the dark-side.  Just when I was about to have a meltdown I spotted a cab. Flagging him down we jumped in and Lynne gave him the address.

Despite my efforts it was too late, the meeting was half over and the cabbie told us it would take another twenty minutes – even for the notorious black cab.

Lynne and I sat in silence, although mentally I was screaming at myself for not being better organized. Of all nights not to screw up this would have been at the top of the list. After all people were depending on me and I let them down, besides missing out on a great opportunity. I was determined to at least try to get there before everyone left so I could explain my absence.

The cabbie found the correct Barley Mow and dropped us off. I recalled Tom saying that they moved their meeting to the Scottish Armory, which according to Tom’s email; it was just across the street. But like everything else that had happened thus far, the armory was not across the street.

Again Lynne saved the day by stopping a man as he left the Barley Mow pub. She inquired if he knew where the Western Front Association meeting was being held. He admitted that he never heard of the Western Front Association and therefore had no clue where they were meeting; that is until I mentioned the Scottish Armory. He recalled passing an armory on his way to the pub and it was just down the street and around the corner.

I dashed down the street and found the armory. Bolted up the steps and tried to open the door, but it was locked. Then I notice a panel of buttons located to the right of the door. Each button was marked with someone’s name. Obviously pressing a button would alert that person to come and open the door. However, in my clouded mind I just looked at all the options, fearing that if I pushed the wrong one, the step I was standing on would drop open like a trapdoor. Luckily someone heard me and open the door.

I could tell by the look on the gentleman’s face that he was not prepared to see the disheveled man standing before him. Using my best panic voice, I asked ‘Where is the Western Front Association meeting?’ He pointed towards the set of stairs to my right while mumbling something to the affect that the meeting was over.  Scampering up the stairs I located the room and I made my grand entrance while members were leaving. I quickly glanced around the room trying to locate Tom but he spotted me first, which was easy considering I was the only stranger in the room wearing sports coat and tie with perspiration running down his face.

When we greeted each other and then I apologized for missing the meeting and explained the nightmare we had experienced. Tom was gracious and offered his apology for all the trouble we went through and understood how easy it was to get lost in London. He introduced Lynne and I to a few remaining members and they invited us to join them for a drink, which I needed desperately.

The bar was just up the stairs and we joined four or five members who were already there. I struck up a conversation with one older gentleman named Charles. He was sitting next to me and during our conversation I could tell he was a World War One historian.  He seemed very interested in some of my grandfather’s documents, especially the journal. He stated that most soldiers carried small pocket diaries not the larger one like my grandfather used. His statement made me wonder, why did my grandfather use the larger journal?

I wanted to find additional information about the military’s use of Army Book 152, so I posted an information request on Great War Form. From the replies I received, the book was used for about everything, including diaries.

I recalled that at the top of the journal’s first page there was a statement ‘My Diary From Notes and Well Remembered Incidences’, perhaps notes he referred to were written in a pocket diary and then transferred to the journal. Wondering why someone did something the way they did it is what makes studying history so interesting; there are so many questions without answers.

After Charles left I had a chance to talk a little more with Tom and two of his friends, Jules and Kathy. Tom was trying his best to get me to return next year to give the speech I would have given. I was not sure if we could afford it financially so I held out. Then he played his trump card ‘If you come back next spring we could take you and your wife over to France and Belgium to visit the battlefields.’ What an offer, to visit the battlefields with such knowledgeable people and they said they have the connections so it would be cost effective. The offer was something we had to seriously think about.

Since he did not close the deal on signing me up, he suggested that we meet Monday evening to firm up the plans and we agreed.

Returning British History (Part 1)

World War 1 - An Unkept Promise 


RETURNING BRITISH HISTORY

In July 2011 I contacted both the Imperial War and the Royal Artillery Museums, to determine interest they may have in digital copies of my grandfather’s documents. Eventually an email response was received from Anthony Richards, of the Imperial War Museum’s Document and Sound Section.

In his email, he explained the museum had copies of most of the documents I had listed in my original email; however he was very interested in learning more about the journal.  In my return correspondence I explained I had digital images of the journal as well as an image of a piece of paper describing the downing of a plane.

On August 1, 2011, Mr. Richard requested that I send him a few journal images for him to read and evaluate. I attached a few images to my email, and then waited for his response.

After a period of time, I began to question if perhaps he had not receive the images, so I contacted him to determine if he had indeed received the images and if so, was he interested in the remaining ones. In his reply he informed me that he had not received them, and requested that I resend them, which I did.

On September 2, 2011, I received Mr. Richard’s dispatch:

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUM

DOCUMENTS AND SOUND SECTION

Dear Mr. Coxen

Thank you for your latest emails and for sending the various attachments, which have now arrived correctly.

I was very interested indeed to see the images you sent, as the journal written by your late grandfather is full of excellent details regarding his military service and I am sure that we would be keen to look after the full version of the account so that researchers could consult it here at the Museum.  Similarly, the document regarding the shooting down of a Zeppelin is an unusual wartime record that could be usefully preserved alongside the journal.

If you were happy to send a CD containing copies of all of the papers, I should therefore be glad to accept the copies as a donation to our archive.  Alternatively, if you would prefer to visit the Museum in person and leave the collection with us for photocopying, I should be pleased to meet you here.  For your reference our address is the Documents and Sound Section, Imperial War Museum, Lambeth Road, London SE1 6HZ.

I look forward to hearing from you again.

I was elated by his statement that the pages I sent were, ‘full of excellent details regarding his military service’ . That same day I copied the images to a CD and dispatched it per the address on the September 20^th email.

Several months passed without a response, and again I wondered if he received the package. I sent a request for confirmation and he responded with the note that appears in the beginning of the book.

I felt proud of my grandfather for his efforts to record history as he experienced it.

As publication of the book grew near, I contemplated the future protection of the journal and the assorted documents I had labored over for so long. They were part of me now, their value – priceless, yet their worth to others is unknown and that haunted me. I discussed my concerns with my brother and sister; we concurred that the items should be donated to a museum where they would be protected. We also agreed that since our grandfather served in the British Army, the museum of choice should be in London.

Since I had been communicating with the Imperial War Museum, I offered to contact Anthony Richards. Then a thought occurred to me, ‘since my grandfather served in the Royal Field Artillery, it would be fitting if the Royal Artillery Museum accepted them.’  

  I sent an e-mail to the museum’s donation address, detailing the documents and the story behind them. Weeks went by without a reply, so I sent another inquiry, which suffered the same fate. I was surprised by their lack of interest, so without second thoughts, I contacted Anthony with my offer. Close to a month later I received the following e-mail:

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUM

DOCUMENTS AND SOUND SECTION

Our Ref: APR/DOC1

17 July 2012

 Dear Mr Coxen

Thank you for your email of 27 June, regarding your grandfather's First World War documents.  I do apologize for not responding sooner, but we are very short-staffed at the moment.

I was delighted to learn that you are considering the archival preservation of the original journal and associated papers, and can confirm that we would be pleased to accept the collection as a donation to this Museum, where the documents could be preserved under your grandfather's name and made readily available for public study, alongside the transcript that you have already kindly deposited with us.  I would also be most interested to read the book which you have recently completed.

If you wanted to send the material by post then I should be glad to receive it.  Alternatively, if you would prefer to visit the Museum in person, then I should be glad to meet you here.  For your reference our address is the Documents and Sound Section, Imperial War Museum, Lambeth Road, London SE1 6HZ.

I look forward to hearing from you again.

Yours sincerely

A poignant realization struck me like a bolt of lightning; I would be returning a component of my grandfather’s life to his homeland. This would be a special moment, for my family, as well as a great PR opportunity; American grandson of British World War One soldier donates his grandfather’s journal and military papers to the IWM. The story of the promise might also draw interest.

 Since I have been a member of the Western Front Association for the past three years, I thought they might be intrigued by this event, so I contacted the chairman of the London branch, Tom Thorpe. He thought highly of the story, as well as my returning part of British history, so he invited me to tell my story to the London membership, at their September 2013 meeting. I accepted – before realizing that I had never given a speech before a large audience. Fear filled the cracks between my initial reactions of honor and pride. Despite my trepidation as a speaker, it is fitting to share this remarkable journal and the impact my grandfather’s wartime promise with a receptive audience.

PLANNING THE TRIP                         

After confirming the September 5^th speaking engagement with the London branch of the Western Front Association, I sent Anthony Richards an email inquiring if he would be available to meet with me and my wife on September 6^th. He responded that his schedule was open so I suggested we meet at 11:00 am at the Imperial War Museum.

With the important matters addressed, I turned my attention to arranging two additional meetings, one with my second cousin, Lorraine Croxford and the other with Michele McGrath.

I emailed my second cousin to see if there was a way for us to meet. I always knew I had relatives in the UK but their names and locations remained a mystery. This changed when Lorraine responded to a blog I created for those with the last name of Coxen. Through email exchanges we discovered we were second cousins. She and her husband live north of London, therefore it would require them to make a special trip to spend Saturday with us. She confirmed they would meet us around 1 pm.

 Michele and I had solidified our dinner plans in advance of my trip. My wife and I would meet them Saturday evening at a very fine restaurant just down the street from where we were staying.  

When I submitted my first book for review through Goodreads, Michele, who is an author, was one of the reviewers. The book ‘The Great Promise’ received high ratings from three of the four reviewing authors, but Michele only gave it three stars. In her review she said that she would have rated it higher perhaps four or five stars if I would have included a bibliography. Being new in the author department, I sent her an email inquiring if a bibliography was necessary since the story was historical fiction. Through several exchanges of emails she convinced me to rewrite the story as non-fiction. Her closing remark was ‘It shouldn’t take you very long because you only have to change a few things and add a bibliography.’  It was eight months later when I finally completed the rewrite. When I started she said she would help and she did. She was instrumental in so many aspects that I wanted to meet the woman who put me through Hell.

Although Lynne and I were late in our arrival, we were warmly greeted and had a pleasant dinner. However, the restaurant was so noisy it was difficult to carry on a conversation, especially when it is between four seniors hard of hearing. After dinner we left to find a quieter place for conversation and desert. Both Michele and her husband John were marvelous people and my only regret is that we did not have more time to get acquainted. Perhaps we can visit them on our return trip next year. 

Looking For a Literary Agent

I have sent twenty queries to publishers, some of which say they will get back to you within a couple of days, and I have received zero responses - not even rejection. One publisher, History Publishing, stated on their website if you have not heard from them within five days, send an email to let them know. I sent the query a month ago and received nothing, so like they said, I sent them an email to remind them - that was a week ago.

I have read to expect rejections, but ignoring someone is rude! Here is my query - let me know what you think.

World War 1 - An Unkept Promise 

Genre: Non-fiction – Military History

Word Count: 50,000

World War 1 – An Unkept Promise brings realism to war seldom obtainable in other literary works. My story begins with a letter my grandfather wrote in 1945 regarding a dream he had. He was visited by three of his old chums who died in the early months of the war. It goes on to tell of a promise the four made before their first battle, the Battle of Mons. Of the four only my grandfather survived and he failed to keep his commitment.

The book opens with two chapters dedicated to developing a basic understanding of the countries involved in the war and background information about the Royal Field Artillery. Following chapters parallel my grandfather’s WWI journal according to the battles he fought in. The story then transitions to my efforts of trying to locate a living relative of each chum in order to fulfill the century old promise.

The story was written to be different than other WWI books. This was accomplished by offering the reader just enough history to understand how the journal entries relate to the battle they describe. The key importance of the book is the journal. The Imperial War Museum in London stated that the “journal is of historical importance because it describes in detail the early battles of the war.” My grandfather composed his journal entries in vivid detailed, which transfers the reader into the frontlines where they gain an understanding of what it was like fighting to survive. The book would benefit both war historians and WWI buffs by presenting new information, as well as shedding light on controversial events which occurred during the early years of the war.

Historical non-fiction requires attention to detail, which my years of technical writing experience provided. I spent four years researching the early years of the war, coupled with my grandfather’s historical documents and journal; they supplied the material necessary for me to write his story. I have given several presentations telling the story behind the book; the most recent of which was to the London branch of the Western Front Association. To add credence to the story, the book’s foreword was written by Michael Paris; Emeritus Professor of Modern History at Central Lancashire and a Fellow of the RHS and British Commission for Military History. David Thompson of the Northumberland (England) Branch of the Western Front Association examined the historical accuracy of the book.

If you are interested, I would love to send you a copy of the Prologue, as well as a selected chapter. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Frederick L Coxen

1839 First Treaty of London

Order World War 1 - An Unkept Promise 


How did Britain get involved in the war? Which is a very good question since the British people thought that it was a European war. Parliament was divided between coming to France's aid or remaining neutral.  Asquith's cabinet was also divided, although most thought that Britten should prepare for mobilization.

Way and see was Asquith's political policy and he remained indecisive until the last moment. Mean while member's of his cabinet were secretly preparing for mobilization.

Britten was not in a treaty with any of the European countries therefore she was not obligated to come to anyone's aid. France wanted Britten to join her against Germany but it was argued that it was a European war and Britten should stay out of it. In the other camp were those in the cabinet that had foresight in what would happen if France lost the war.

This debate continued until Germany declared that they were going to use Belgium, a neutral country, as an avenue for attacking France. Belgium’s neutrality was part of the 1839 Treaty of London.[i] Under that treaty the European powers would recognize and guarantee the independence and neutrality of Belgium. The significant part of the treaty was in Article VII, which required Belgium to remain perpetually neutral and the signatory powers would be committed to guard that neutrality in the event of invasion. The cosigners of the treaty were Great Britten, Austria, France, the German Confederation (Prussia ), Russia, and the Netherlands.  Since Germany’s intention was to break the treaty, Britain felt that under Article VII it was their responsibility to come to Belgium’s defense. Therefore they sent an ultimatum to Germany; if they invaded Belgium, Britain would enter the war.[ii]

German Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg could not believe that Britain would go to war against Germany over a mere “scrap of paper”[iii]. Kaiser Wilhelm was unconcerned by the threat, and ordered his army to invade Belgium on August 4, 1914. When the German Army crossed over the Belgian border, the British Parliament signed the General Mobilization Decree; Britain was officially at war with Germany.

---

[i] Eric Van Hooydonk (2006). "Chapter 15". In Aldo E. Chircop, O. Lindén. Places of Refuge: The Belgian Experience. Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff. p. 417

[ii] Marshall, S.L.A. World War 1  pp 50-53

[iii] Larry Zuckerman (2004). The Rape of Belgium: The Untold Story of World War I. New York University Press. p. 43.

The Old Contemptibles

I am a member of Goodreads, which is a site for readers to review books and interact with authors. There are several groups within the site, one of which is the History Book Club.  There was a discussion on a new book about the Battle of Mons, which seemed interesting because the author takes it full circle from the first battle to when they freed the town just before the end of the war.

Leave it to me, I had to leave a few comments and among them was about the "Old Contemptibles". I said that it was after this battle that the Kaiser made a remark about Britten's contemptible little army. I received a response from another member that it has never been verified that the Kaiser ever made that statement.

I replied, "That may be so, but why ruin a good story". Then I got to thinking, "I'll throw this out to the experts on the Great War Forum." Which I did and received a dozen replies which did not actually answer the question but worth writing about.

According to one source it all started when the Kaiser sent an order after the Battle of Mons. When the order was translated the translator wrote "contemptible little army" when it actually translated to "contemptibly  small army". The second translation is considered the correct one since he was referring to the size of the army, not the men in it.

Of course the propaganda mongers used the first translation to stir-up the Tommy's fighting spirit, which it did. Eventually it was used by the surviving professional soldiers as a badge of honor, separating them from the soldiers that replaced them.

If you were an "Old Contemptible" people knew that you went through Hell and survived. By the end of the First Battle of Ypres very few British professional soldiers were left.