Sixpenny
Pen Hill (in Sutton Waldron) was earlier called Seaxpenn 932 (in a later copy of an Anglo-Saxon charter), meaning 'hill of the Saxons', from Old English Seaxe and Celtic penn. The hill may have marked an ancient Saxon boundary. It was also an old hundred meeting place, giving its name Sexpene to a Domesday Book hundred that was later combined with Handley hundred to form the hundred of Sixpenny Handley.
Handley
Hanlee 877 (in a later copy of an Anglo-Saxon charter), Hanlege 1086 (Domesday Book), Henle 1182, Handeleygh 1496, Sexpennyhanley 1575. 'The high wood or clearing', from Old English heah and leah.
Note that the -d- only appears at the end of the 15th century, and that 'Sixpenny' is first added in the 16th century (from the name of the hundred of Sixpenny Handley).
1st Battalion, Wiltshire Regiment
During a recent visit to Dorchester, I secured, with very helpful assistance from the research room staff at the County Library, a large scale map of our village, as it appeared at the beginning of the 20th century. Then titled 'Handley', the western extremities, in respect of buildings, appears to have been the school and the church. Adjacent to the church, and where the present vicarage now sits, is a building identified as the Sunday School.
Much of the High Street appears familiar, though Handley House (standing in the area of St. Mary's Court) is no more, while the Star Inn (now a private house) then had the much grander title of the Star Hotel. The converted Methodist chapel went under the name, 'Ebenezer Chapel'.
Dean Lane, as it does today, formed the eastern boundary, though unlike today dwellings were mainly confined to the right-hand side of the road. Town Farm dominated the lower part of the lane, with the Smithy being the last building of consequence at the top end. Back Lane was mainly free of houses, though some of the development in the area of Littlefields Lane has survived to the present day. Field divisions, along with figures denoting acreage, completes the village particulars.
Turning now to a map of a very different nature, a map that outlines the extent of the battlefields of the Western Front in the First World War, one is immediately struck by how small an area dominated the lives of the millions of soldiers committed to one of the most brutal conflicts in the history of mankind. Compared to the panoramic sweep of fighting that marked the progress of the Allied armies from the Normandy landings of 1944, to victory on the plains of north-west Germany in 1945, and the scale of battle twixt 1914 and 1918 seems minute indeed. In part, this obvious restriction of manoeuvre was brought about by the direction of the battles fought and the inability of any of the protagonists to break free from the trench warfare that existed from the autumn of 1914 to the spring of 1918, when, until the armistice in the November, some fluidity of movement took place. Nonetheless, and particularly in the northern areas of the Front, the sway of battle hardly altered over four years of a conflict, so bloody, that its telling to this day remains a benchmark of almost unbelievable horror. Of the 23 names on our village War Memorial, honouring those who fell in the First World War, 13 died within the relatively narrow confines of the Western Front.
The first name on the memorial is that of Private Fred Weeks. Fred, or Frederick (both versions of his Christian name are recorded in his service documents) enlisted at Devizes on the 8th of March 1904. Assigned to D Company of the 1st Battalion, Wiltshire Regiment, Fred was given the regimental number 6817. By August 1914, and still with the 1st Battalion, he was serving, fairly close to home, at Tidworth Garrison and it was from here that he entrained, with the rest of the battalion, on the 13th for Southampton; as part of the 7th Infantry Brigade. The '1st', with Lieutenant- Colonel A W Halstead at their head, was 'off to war'.
Following the Channel crossing, and assembling at Rouen, the troops moved by train to Aulnoye and then in a series of sharp marches, spread over the better part of a week, to take up positions facing Mons and just north of the village of Ciply. Understandably, with an army marching through the myriad of tiny hamlets and villages that straddle the border between France and Belgium, and frequently being greeted by hordes of anxious inhabitants armed with freshly picked flowers, the battalion's diarist was not only uncertain as to the names of places through which the ‘1st’, were passing, but also as to whether they were in France or Belgium!
What was certain, the rumble of war was not far distant and it was with terrible ferocity that the battle of Mons was joined on the 23rd of August. Although not directly involved, the '1st', was subjected to almost continuous enemy artillery fire as they prepared trenches in readiness to meet the forthcoming assault on their sector. At dawn on the 24th, a rain of shrapnel began falling on the 1st Battalion's area and with no respite throughout the morning, casualties were inevitable. Halstead, it would seem, was everywhere and his presence must have greatly cheered, and encouraged, his men, many of whom were experiencing the exhausting trauma of battle for the first time. At some stage in the morning's fighting, his horse was shot from beneath him, leaving the colonel shaken but otherwise unharmed. Not so fortunate was the battalion's adjutant, Captain P S Rowan. Rowan fell, wounded, and this news was soon followed by a report to say that Captain W R A Dawes and at least three men had been killed. Then, early in the afternoon of this day of action, came orders for the 7th Infantry Brigad to retire towards St-Wasst-la-Vallee, north-west of the small French town of Bavay.
This retirement, for the '1st' at least, was accomplished without further loss, the enemy 'following up leisurely'. However, there was to be no stand at St-Wasst as the entire front was steadily crumbling, and upon reaching Gommegnies, the '7th', was obliged to continue retreating in a south-westerly direction as superior enemy forces threatened to break through on already weakened flanks. In order to achieve some semblance of an ordered withdrawal, the '1st', joined with the South Lancashires to fight a stiff rearguard action, the main area of fighting taking place around Solesmes. As night fell, the survivors broke off under cover of darkness and withdrew in the direction of Caudry.
Although it can only be conjecture on my part, it is highly probable that it was during this phase of the action, or in the fight the next day on the north-east edge of Caudry, itself, that Private Fred Weeks was mortally wounded. Wounded he most certainly was, and not killed outright in the fighting, as notification to this effect was signalled by the British Ambassador at Bordeaux on the 22nd of October 1914. Furthermore, it appears he was taken from the battlefield, by the Germans, and given some treatment at their newly established field hospital, set up in the village of Bethencourt, which lies south-west of Solesmes. As stated, his wounds were mortal and Fred died on Thursday, the 27th of August 1914. The First World War was less than a month old, and already the 1st Battalion, Wiltshire Regiment had sustained losses running into three figures (the diarist noting that between 80 and 100 men had been killed, or wounded, during the battle around Caudry).
Thus, it is likely that within hours of his death, Private Weeks was laid to rest in the communal cemetery at Bethencourt where, today, his name is perpetrated by a special memorial, suitably inscribed by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
His entry in the cemetery register names only his mother as his next of kin and identifies her address merely as 'Handley'. Prior to joining the army, Fred worked as a farm labourer, a fact gleaned from a perusal of the 1901 Census. Interestingly, despite his early, and tragic, death so early in the war, Fred, nevertheless, qualified for the 1914 Star and the Victory Medal, the latter award being promulgated on the 19th of June 1920.
I had intended to include a profile on the village's second casualty, Private William George Phillips, but this will have to be held over until the October issue of The Downsman. In the meanwhile, I wish to acknowledge the generous assistance given by the curator of the Wardrobe (The Royal Gloucestershire, Berkshire and Wiltshire Regiment Museum, Salisbury), David Chilton and Vivian Ridley, also of the Wardrobe, who fielded my original questions concerning the availability of records in respect of the 1st Battalion. Thus, any errors that may be detected in my interpretation of events, as recorded in the unit’s War Diary, are wholly mine. I repeat my gratitude concerning the help provided by the research room staff at the County Library, Dorchester, and mention, too, the invaluable work done by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, particularly in respect of their excellent website.
Monday 14th June 2004. You may ask why has he put that date there, is it at all meaningful? The answer is that I am trying to justify the lateness of my contribution to this edition of the Downsman. You see like so many other people, I started off with good intentions, but somehow along the line I ran out of steam. Originally I wrote, "... ... .hang on a minute I have got to nip into the kitchen to look at the clock, as I have given up wearing a watch. For those of you who are interested it was 11:45am.
However that was some time ago now and it is in fact 10:40am on the 20th of July now. So you see, even in Woodcutts the time does have some relevance, although I don't treat it with much reverence.
This past twelve months have been odd though. Weather patterns have seemed to have gone to……, or to somewhere any way. At this moment in time, I am struggling to understand and use the computer climate modules, that the International Panel on Climate Control are using in their fight against Global Warming. The problem is, there is nothing specific about Woodcutts, that is the reason for my interest. If there isn't anybody in the UN worried about us, somebody has to stand up to the storms when they come. So I have nominated myself as the Woodcutts representative to the IPCC, which explains my interest in computer, climate models but not my understanding of them.
Are you still with me? If not perhaps you ought to join me as an Open University student, not on the course I am doing, but on psychiatry. If there wasn't a spell cheque on this computer I would have to take a course on spelling.
Anyway looking back to my notes on 14/06/04, it was a beautiful day, clear blue skies, except away to the south out across where I know the sea is. I was sat under the ewe tree in the garden, accompanied by two dogs and a cat taking advantage of the shade on what was to be a very warm day. Together, the four of us were enjoying the beauty and wonders of our world. At this point I will now revert to that time.
The papers were delivered long ago, followed by the arrival of the postman, the workers of Woodcutts have been long gone about their businesses and the children to school. The last visitor was Phil with the milk, and now the only anthropogenic noises are those of the occasional light aircraft making its way through the heavens. These are more than compensated for by the song birds and the shrill calls of the buzzards, flying so effortlessly high above our shady, ewe tree. (Please note I am using the computers spell chequer all the time.)
The bird song has entertained me since I first sat down here at 9:30am firstly to complete some paper work and then to write this. During my time here and despite the presents of the cat and dogs, a cock spotted fly catcher has been making regular foraging trips from the branches of a shrub some 8 meters from us. It has a family to feed nearby and as soon as he has something to take, he flits off to them, quickly returning to his vantage point on the branch, just a short distance from us.
Despite the time of year butterflies are in short supply, (even today 20/07/04, they still are.), but there are several small moths on the wing. These are from light buff in colour to a brilliant red, with sky blue patches or so they appear in the sunlight. I am not able to identify them, mainly because they won’t stay still long enough, and in this sunlight colours can be deceptive. Now I must leave the animal kingdom and revert to the plant kingdom.
Last Friday on a perambulation around the village recreation ground, I came across a flower I didn't know. So on returning home, I out with my flora, to discover it was Wild Mignonette, Reseda luteola. I find this is French for little darling and that it originates from N. Africa, and was introduced as a garden plant with a very fragrant scent, which it has apparently lost in its travels. It is found in waste places, particularly where the ground has been disturbed. In the recreation ground it grows on the embankment to the east of the football pitch, so it is true to form.
Now we must return to moths. A few weeks back, Mrs. Win Kirby rang me to say that she had something unusual resting on her gatepost. I was delighted to find a privet hawk moth in its resting pose, i.e. with wings folded along its body. It looked rather like a grey, but colourful stick attached to the post. I put it into a container that Mrs. Kirby supplied to bring it back home for young visitors who had just arrived to see. When released, it was in no hurry to leave us and delighted us all by showing off the lovely pink and black of its body and underwings. Its size alone is enough to cause considerable interest, but a flying display is something not to be missed.
Now moving on to more recent times, a visitor told me he had seen a Peregrine Falcon take a pigeon in flight, just a few metres up the lane from our front gate. I did get a fleeting glimpse of it feeding, but unfortunately one of the very infrequent cars visiting here, wanted to leave at that point and scared it off. Despite sitting on the bank some fifty metres away in wait for it, there was no encore, which resulted in great disappointment for myself and two granddaughters who had joined me. This reminds me of kingfishers, not seen by me but by the vicar. On a solitary run, he crossed the bridge at Wimborne St. Giles to see not one kingfisher but two. He raced home, he and Pam jumped into the car and made their way back to the bridge, so that Pam too could enjoy the spectacle of two of these tiny, but beautifully coloured and streamlined birds. Unfortunately they had moved to a more discrete site and were not available. Since then Ron said that I could join him on his runs, I think he must have an ulterior motive. Does anyone know of a business connection with Richard Adlem?
Now back to moths, I recently received a phone call from Gillian, who said that she and her husband had found a pink, live something, with two white "tentacles", while digging in the garden. She photographed it in colour to show me, and then returned it from whence it came. From the photograph and its description, I believe that it was a privet hawk moth undergoing the last stage of its metamorphosis. In the photograph the shape of the wings could been seen, laying along the body and the white tentacles were of course the antennae. The colours would change as the last larval skin is shed and the moth is exposed to sunlight. It is wonderful to know that so many people take an interest in the natural state of our world. It is certainly full of surprises for all. It would seem the more you learn about it, the more you realise how much you don't know.
At this point, as I am going to be a day late for the copy deadline, I think it is time to finish for this session. So thank you for reading to the end once again, and thank you to the people who tell me that they actually enjoy reading the Woodcutts news. My apologies if it is somewhat disjointed this edition but I have been busy. By the way the spelling mistakes are deliberate, but they did pass the spell cheque. Thank ewe once again and God bless.