IN the early years of the First World War, the hospital ship SS Rohilla ran aground near Whitby. Amongst the 83 who died, there were 12 from Barnoldswick. In his second feature on the tragedy, Alan Roberts focuses on letters home from Walter Horsfield.
THE townspeople of Barnoldswick were devastated by the loss. Twelve men had died when the hospital ship ‘Rohilla’ was wrecked on rocks just south of Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.
The men were all members of the St John Ambulance Brigade who had been called up when war broke out against Germany in 1914. They had provided vital first aid in the local mills and factories.
All the men worked in cotton manufacturing with the exceptions of Frank Dunkley who was a baker and railway goods porter Henry Barter. Most had several years’ experience in the brigade and had reached a high level of proficiency. Eight were married and two were the heads of large families. After war had broken out, they were keen to help their wounded countrymen overseas.
The Boer War was fought in South Africa between the British army and two independent republics which had been set up by disillusioned settlers of Dutch heritage.
The conflict dragged on for over two years and the call went out for volunteers from the St John Ambulance (or Johnnies, as they later became known) to help out with hospital duties to allow the Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC) to work nearer the scene of the actual fighting. Around 1,800 Johnnies served in South Africa and around 60 died, mainly from disease.
Twenty-year-old Walter Horsfield found himself on his way to South Africa in April 1900 aboard ‘SS Winefredian’. This must have been a huge adventure. Walter tells his own story in letters written home to his parents.
‘We left Southampton at 7.30 on Sunday night… It was a bit rough when we got past Land’s End in Cornwall. There was a great number on board that was seasick… Our diet is porridge and treacle for breakfast, plain bread and beef and tea for dinner.’
A year later on a second tour of duty: ‘I have 15 shillings. There has been one or two ushering me to lend them some, but I am lending no one none. There were two colonials killed on the line at Wynberg station. They was both drunk and was getting out before the train stopped and they both fell between the train and the metals; they was both cut up. They was brought the following day on stretchers to the mortuary here, and the funeral was in the afternoon. There was a grand procession and the band played the dead march, so I think that’s all this time…’
Three months later: ‘You will see that I am not without money: when I get it, I take care of it, and let no one have none,’ and a reminder that there was a war on: ‘There was a bit of a fight with the Boers down the line at Richmond, ten miles from here. The soldiers there was no good so they had to surrender. They took all their arms and looted the town. There was six wounded and four killed on the British side and three Boers wounded. Some of the R.A.M.C. went down to fetch the wounded to the hospital here, and I have seen them that has got shot. Most of them were stretcher cases.
A trainload of prisoners came up the other day. It is a treat to see them; they have all beards on. They look about 50 years old, all of them. There was a little boy about ten years of age with his father in one of the carriages. It looked a pity to look at him; they were guarded by soldiers.’
The final letter was sent in July 1902. Queen Victoria had died the previous year and Edward VII was now King. Victory over the Boers had finally been achieved but it took much longer than expected and at a far greater cost in human life and materials.
‘I must tell you that I have seen General Kitchener [who] passed here about a week ago on his return to England. When he was passing, the hospital gave him three cheers; he saluted out of the carriage window when he passed.
Well, I must tell you that we had a fine dinner here on the 5th, which contained three courses and afterwards a pipe and tobacco and cigarettes given us, which went off fine. By your letter the people of Barnoldswick had a fine time of it when peace was proclaimed by all accounts; seemingly the ambulance men paraded them that had returned from South Africa.’
Kitchener would die when his ship was wrecked off the coast of Orkney some years later.
Sadly, Walter Horsfield and 11 other Barlickers perished when the Rohilla hit the rocks at Whitby. They were not fighting men, but everyday working folk from Barnoldswick who were simply doing their bit for their fellow man.
Walter did get to see some of the world, his letters and the book of photographs he brought back are testament to that.
The information in this article has been based on the Horsfield family papers which have been kindly donated to Barnoldswick History Society.
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