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Authors: Alexandra J Churchill
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up 32 as the last man before Harrow went in to bat needing a mere 55 runs to win.
What followed was nothing short of incredible. The Eton captain led a charge that brought the Harrovian batting line up to its knees. Within half an hour Fowler had taken 8 wickets, 5 clean bowled and Harrow were all but obliterated at 32 for 9. Such was their confidence that Harrowâs tenth man, Alexander, was stuffing his face with a cream bun when someone burst into a tent at the nursery end and informed him âthat the Harrow wickets were falling like ninepins and that he might be needed at any momentâ. He was still trying to swallow his cake in the pavilion and barely had time to get his pads on and to the crease. Alexander managed just 8 runs before the innings was over and Harrow were all out for 45. Eton had won by 9 Fowler became a national celebrity in an instant. Such was the acclaim that one fan letter, simply addressed to âFowlerâs mother, Londonâ actually found the lady at her hotel.
John Manners had a mischievous sense of humour. He once received a scathing reprimand from Shepherdâs Bush Stadium for messing about where he shouldnât have been and went as far as to register his telegraphic address as âBrainfeg, Oxfordâ. His father was a sportsman too, but was wary of his temperament and had instilled in John the belief that sporting greatness was not enough in itself. He had won the Grand National on his own horse but he hoped that John âunlike himself would be remembered for something moreâ than his achievements on a playing field or a tennis court.
On the outbreak of war John was most amused when arriving in France that he was not supposed to tell his mother anything at all. âWe are not even allowed to say what country weâre in which makes letter writing rather difficult!â he joked. âBut I donât think you would be greatly surprised if you knew.â Disembarking at the end of their voyage had been difficult but he was just thankful that the journey was over. He continued to mock the seriousness of his new adventure. âAll the glamour of war was knocked out of me by that beastly departure from London. Bands oughtnât be allowed to play âAuld Lang Syneâ!â
The 2nd Grenadiers first retired across the River Aisne on 31 August just after dawn in sweltering heat. They had marched on for nearly 15 miles, struggling to keep men in the ranks, until reaching the town of Soucy. Major George Darell, or âMaâ Jeffreys, had left Eton in 1895. There were âthree pillarsâ to Maâs loyalty: Eton, the Guards and the Conservative Party. The battalionâs second in command, having walked over a hundred miles in a little under a week with his Guardsmen, Ma had had just about enough of wandering through the French countryside with an undetermined number of Germans in pursuit. Sleep that night was curtailed after two hours when shortly after midnight came orders to fall back and take up a position at the edge of the forest of Retz, just to the south. At dawn the guards stopped in the shadow of its dense, towering beech trees, which were draped with a thick mist. In a thin, miserable shower of rain the Grenadier and the Irish Guards drank hot chocolate that tasted faintly of paraffin whilst they looked out on dripping lucerne and damp cornfields. Piles of corn lay about, providing potential cover for the Germans. Here they were to stay until mid afternoon, next to Villers-Cotterêts, waiting for the enemy to arrive and hoping that they could keep from being overrun.
This plan fell apart almost immediately. Rumours arrived of German cavalry approaching, and then little pockets of grey-clad men appeared, running between the piles of wet corn and filtering into the forest on either side of them. The Grenadiers opened fire immediately and the Guards prepared to retire into the forest, falling back on the main road and a
What followed was nothing short of incredible. The Eton captain led a charge that brought the Harrovian batting line up to its knees. Within half an hour Fowler had taken 8 wickets, 5 clean bowled and Harrow were all but obliterated at 32 for 9. Such was their confidence that Harrowâs tenth man, Alexander, was stuffing his face with a cream bun when someone burst into a tent at the nursery end and informed him âthat the Harrow wickets were falling like ninepins and that he might be needed at any momentâ. He was still trying to swallow his cake in the pavilion and barely had time to get his pads on and to the crease. Alexander managed just 8 runs before the innings was over and Harrow were all out for 45. Eton had won by 9 Fowler became a national celebrity in an instant. Such was the acclaim that one fan letter, simply addressed to âFowlerâs mother, Londonâ actually found the lady at her hotel.
John Manners had a mischievous sense of humour. He once received a scathing reprimand from Shepherdâs Bush Stadium for messing about where he shouldnât have been and went as far as to register his telegraphic address as âBrainfeg, Oxfordâ. His father was a sportsman too, but was wary of his temperament and had instilled in John the belief that sporting greatness was not enough in itself. He had won the Grand National on his own horse but he hoped that John âunlike himself would be remembered for something moreâ than his achievements on a playing field or a tennis court.
On the outbreak of war John was most amused when arriving in France that he was not supposed to tell his mother anything at all. âWe are not even allowed to say what country weâre in which makes letter writing rather difficult!â he joked. âBut I donât think you would be greatly surprised if you knew.â Disembarking at the end of their voyage had been difficult but he was just thankful that the journey was over. He continued to mock the seriousness of his new adventure. âAll the glamour of war was knocked out of me by that beastly departure from London. Bands oughtnât be allowed to play âAuld Lang Syneâ!â
The 2nd Grenadiers first retired across the River Aisne on 31 August just after dawn in sweltering heat. They had marched on for nearly 15 miles, struggling to keep men in the ranks, until reaching the town of Soucy. Major George Darell, or âMaâ Jeffreys, had left Eton in 1895. There were âthree pillarsâ to Maâs loyalty: Eton, the Guards and the Conservative Party. The battalionâs second in command, having walked over a hundred miles in a little under a week with his Guardsmen, Ma had had just about enough of wandering through the French countryside with an undetermined number of Germans in pursuit. Sleep that night was curtailed after two hours when shortly after midnight came orders to fall back and take up a position at the edge of the forest of Retz, just to the south. At dawn the guards stopped in the shadow of its dense, towering beech trees, which were draped with a thick mist. In a thin, miserable shower of rain the Grenadier and the Irish Guards drank hot chocolate that tasted faintly of paraffin whilst they looked out on dripping lucerne and damp cornfields. Piles of corn lay about, providing potential cover for the Germans. Here they were to stay until mid afternoon, next to Villers-Cotterêts, waiting for the enemy to arrive and hoping that they could keep from being overrun.
This plan fell apart almost immediately. Rumours arrived of German cavalry approaching, and then little pockets of grey-clad men appeared, running between the piles of wet corn and filtering into the forest on either side of them. The Grenadiers opened fire immediately and the Guards prepared to retire into the forest, falling back on the main road and a
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