Luther Llewellyn Bailey

Luther enlisted at Mansfield, he served with the 12th (pioneer) battalion Sherwood Foresters. He went over to France with his battalion on 29th August 1915. He was killed in action on 27th March 1918. He has no known grave and his name is commemorated on the Pozieres Memorial, Somme, France.

Cpl Luther Bailey wrote home to his family; the letter was published in the Hucknall Dispatch on 17th August 1916. : - “Old Fritz had been very uneasy for some time, sending us an occasional trench mortar, or miner’s wafer [minnenwerfer], then, all at once, he opened with a most terrific bombardment of our trench, and kept it up, without the least sign of abating for about 9½ hours, and then stopped as sudden as he had started it. We dug about from one sap to another as best we could under the circumstances, to see that all was in order, when we came upon what had been our trench. You may guess what a mess it was when we could not recognise it in broad daylight. One portion was simply a huge crater - parapet, dugout, everything flattened to the ground with a hole you could get a big bus in, in the centre. “The officer had just remarked to me, “What a Hell-hole”, when we heard groans and we spotted one poor lad buried up to the neck. After giving him a drink from my flask, we set on and dug him out. All the time it was like hell with the lid off and Kaiser Bill stirring it up. After we had got him out, we helped to unearth some more - in all, I think, seven were got out alive. Other men came up and they repaired the trench whilst open to enfilading fire from two machine guns, and all the time raining whizz-bangs, trench mortars and miner’s wafers [minnenwerfers]. L.c. Parkin were [sic] highly commended by the General. The officer [1] is probably by now wearing the ribbon of the Military Cross and myself the Military Medal. Pleased to say I am quite well.” He later wrote a further letter home which was also published in the Hucknall Dispatch in October 1916, describing the average Tommy as resembling “nothing more than a mole hill on a wet day”. “Sir, Having a few minutes to spare and lounging lazily on my “bed”, it struck me that I had not yet read my latest issue of mail, amongst which was a copy of the always welcome “Dispatch”, so having gone through my personal correspondence, I lit a cigarette and settled down to enjoy the contents of the good old paper. Having perused its columns I thought I would settle down and write a few lines to you upon a few of the subjects that haven given one special interest in the last two or three weeks editions, so here goes. “Firstly, let me mention the letter you received from Corporal T. Mills, and without swank or fear of critics, I fully endorse all that my brave comrade has to say with regard to honours won in the field, and with him say that I think Hucknall has now a fair percentage of honours, and, no doubt, before long we will shall hear of more coming to the dear old town. I cannot tell you how pleased I was to read that Corporal Mills and good old Hutchinson had won the Military Medal and here, through the good old paper that links us with home, I send them my heartiest congratulations, and wish them the best of luck and a safe return. May they live to wear the medal they fought so bravely for, for many years to come. “Then, secondly, there is a run of letters re. “The Uniform or the Man”, which I have followed with some interest. Though some have an idea it is the uniform, it really is the man inside it they admire. No doubt, the uniform, as it is seen at home, with shining buttons and straps, polished boots, etc., does offer some attraction, and many would pass with only a secondary glance at the proud young wearer. Here is the other side of the picture. Time is up, and “Tommy” is about to leave the trenches after a four days’ spell. More likely than not, it has rained three days out of the four, and all that one can see is mud, and Tommy, who left his Billet four days ago clean and tidy is now like nothing more than a mole hill on a wet day. Let us look at him now, that once clean uniform is now hardly recognisable for mud, his equipment and everything else being covered from head to foot. The rifle is the only clean part about him. He himself has had neither wash or shave for the whole of the four days, and probably splashed with blood when going to help a wounded pal. He is tired out, having to snatch a few minutes sleep whenever the chance offered itself, while the pack on his pack seems heavier than ever. Then look at his face with the light of victory shining in his eyes, always smiling and ready to crack a joke even with death itself for the sake of the loved ones at home; see him as he contentedly smokes his fags and in the face of deadly danger hear his remark, “Warm ain’t it , Bill?” Then would your readers say, without a moment’s hesitation, as I see him and say myself, it is the big heart and the smiling face not the uniform that draws forth the admiration of all who behold him. “I could say quite a lot more upon this and other subjects in the dear old paper, but time and the censor’s temper warns me to stop, so will you please convey my best thanks to my fellow Hucknallites who have so kindly sent me their congratulations upon my being awarded the Military Medal. I am pleased to say that I am quite well and confident of a glorious and speedy victory. Au revoir! Yours sincerely, Corporal L Bailey” A letter written by his comrades was published in the Hucknall Dispatch on 25th April 1918:- His comrades wrote to his father with the news of his death. “Auxiliary Military Hospital Tranmere, Birkenhead “Dear Mr Bailey, “I feel it my duty to write, being a friend of Luther’s, and also being in his company up to the last, although you have probably had the full account of the painful news from another source: still it will show you (his family) are not alone in your trouble. He will remain in my memory for many years to come, not only mine, but I can safely say the remainder of the company that are left. At the time it happened, and the news was passed round, everyone seemed to realise at once what they were losing, and how he would be missed. He used to cause such life and fun in the company, and no party was complete unless he was included. It was pleasing to know that his death was not a lingering one, the bullet entering his brain causing instantaneous death. Our regret is that we could not mark the spot with a cross but the boches were too active. I managed to crawl out and cover him over, also found someone had left his pay book and cigarette case, with his name scratched on, also a letter from yourself, from which I am getting the address, not knowing his own. I have enclosed everything except the cigarette case, which I should like to keep as a memento. Kindly convey my deepest sympathy to Mrs. Bailey and family. Pleased to say I got away the following day, the 28th., with a bullet wound which has landed me at the above address. “Sincerely yours, “F. Blythe. Sergt.” Note: Sgt Blythe appears to have survived the war. Above extracts are curtesy of Jim Grundy and his face book pages Small Town Great War Hucknall 1914-1918 All records locate Luther Bailey in Hucknall but whilst there is no documented link with Rainworth, his unusual name makes it virtually certain the same man is commemorated in both places (there are only 3 Luther Baileys on the entire 1911 Census). Perhaps he worked for a time in Rainworth.