Tag Archives: WW1

Llandudno on Armistice Day

8 Nov

The First World War ended in the second week of November 1918, just as Llandudno was preparing to host its ‘War Savings Week’.  It was hoped that £100, 000 – approximately £ today – could be raised in National Savings to help pay for the war.

On the 11th, at noon, newspaper sellers on Mostyn Street confirmed the rumours that had been circulating all morning that the war was over; simultaneously a confirmation notice was posted outside the Post Office on Vaughan Street. With all doubts now dispelled, residents set to work decorating the town with bunting, flags and ribbons while peeling bells sounded from churches and chapels. Shortly after 3 pm an impromptu parade formed at the railway station led by local sailor George Edwards carrying a union jack.  The procession included wounded officers from the local military hospitals, the band of the Inniskilling Fusiliers and soldiers hauling a 6 inch howitzer.

As the parade made its way up the promenade a Royal Navy warship, of the submarine chaser type, appeared in the bay firing several shots in the air while an airship passed overhead firing its Lewis gun forming a thrilling spectacle witnessed by thousands. That evening the military band gave a free concert at the town hall and beacons were lit on the Ormes and on the Vardre.

The joy at the armistice was tinged with great sadness. For every 100 Llandudno men who had enlisted in the military, 15 had not returned – even on November 11th 1918, Jean Bonnet of the Swiss Café, Lloyd Street, died when he fell from a lorry in Italy.  On the Great Orme, Elizabeth Basford of Tyn-y-Coed mourned the loss of her husband and two brothers and further tragedy followed when a third brother, David, died. At the inquest the coroner concluded that his death was “attributed to the war”.  The youngest of Llandudno’s victims was 17 year old Robert Eccles – son of the lighthouse keeper – killed when HMS Defence was sunk in the Battle of Jutland; the oldest, Grandfather John Jones – an army driver – died aged 60.

In 1920 the town council agreed to build a memorial on the promenade as a lasting tribute to the fallen and paid for by public subscription.  It was unveiled in November 1922; attended by the weeping mothers and wives, fatherless children and sad faced fathers of the 212 Llandudno men who died as well as hundreds of veterans and thousands of members of the public. The service was conducted by the Rector of Llandudno who himself lost one son in the war while another was seriously wounded.

Many of the men who survived the war had significantly shortened lives; bronchial issues and breathing problems from gas poisoning, shrapnel wounds causing years of intolerable pain or the mental scars that never healed were all a legacy of the Great War and led to many a premature death. These men are not remembered on the town’s memorial, nor the hundreds of other townspeople who contributed – from the old men who patrolled the coastline keeping watch for enemy invaders, the nurses who tended and cared for the wounded to the housewives who knitted ‘comforts’ for the troops – Lest we Forget.

Llandudno’s WW1 Pierrot – Sydney Sutcliffe

2 Oct

Killed in action today 1917, Second Lieutenant Sydney Sutcliffe of Roumania Crescent, Llandudno serving with the Royal Flying Corps.  Syd was born in Bradford but moved to Llandudno when his father, Arthur, the well-known entertainer came to the resort to open a summer show at Llandudno’s Pier Head Pavilion. Before enlisting in the army, the young Sydney was a ‘Pierrot’ in his father’s shows.

Initially with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, Sutcliffe went to France with his battalion and saw a “tremendous amount of fighting” at Ypres and the Somme.  He was awarded the Military Medal in April 1916 for his actions during a German gas attack.  He later volunteered for the Royal Flying Corps and late in the afternoon of the 2nd October 1917 along with pilot, Justin McKenna, took off from an airfield near Arras in a Bristol F2b bi-plane. Sydney Sutcliffe was the observer and gunner in the aircraft but after an hour it was surrounded by seven German planes near Cambrai.  During the ensuing dogfight, McKenna and Sutcliffe saw off four of the enemy before they were brought down themselves with the loss of both men. The young Llandudno man was granted a funeral with full military honours. The full account of the burial is available here: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/world-war-one/10340753/WW1-deaths-showed-the-humanity-amid-the-horror.html

Later the bodies of McKenna (the uncle of actress and wildlife campaigner Virginia McKenna) and Sutcliffe were re-interred at Cabaret Rouge British Cemetery.

Back in Llandudno Arthur Sutcliffe held an annual ‘Syd Sutcliffe Wounded Soldiers Benefit Fund’ at the Pier Head Pavilion in memory of his late son.

Photograph of Sydney Sutcliffe via the Daily Telegraph website.

Sidney Sutcliffe (Heathcliff O'Malley)





Sutcliffe's Entertainers

U-boat off Llandudno

1 May

It was cold and damp on the evening of August 16 1915 when Walter Wood, accountant to the Llandudno Urban Council, left the town’s County Club.  Outside, he was buttoning his coat up against the weather when a soldier approached him, offered him a polite greeting and started walking with him down Lloyd Street.  Fearing that he was going to be the victim of a robbery, the accountant turned and ran back to the building in which he had spent the evening.  He burst into the lobby followed by half a dozen soldiers, excitedly, shouting “We’ve got him; we’ve got him”. 

For two days hundreds of soldiers had been searching for three German prisoners of war who had escaped from a camp in Llansannan.  Dyffryn Aled had been requisitioned in 1914 to accommodate captured German officers and while interned there, Lieutenant-Commander Hermann Tholens and Captain Heinrich von Hennig hatched a plan to escape and rendezvous with a German submarine off the Great Orme.  On the night of August 13 1915, along with Captain Hans von Heldorf, they forced their way through the barred windows of the 18th century mansion and walked the twenty miles to Llandudno.  Confident that they would not be missed until the camp’s morning roll call, the three enjoyed a meal in a café before hiding for the day. 

At dusk the three Germans left their hideout and tried to scramble down the cliffs below the Great Orme’s lighthouse.  In the dark waters below a submarine moved towards them waiting for a signal which never came as the officers failed to find their way down to the beach.  All was not lost for the three, however, as the plan was for the U-boat to rendezvous at the same position for three consecutive nights.  The following night Tholens, von Hennig and von Heldorf made it to the foot of the Orme but failed to make contact with the submarine and assumed, wrongly, that it was not coming.  It turned out to be just a few hundred yards away, their view of each other blocked by a limestone buttress.

Dejected, cold and hungry the Germans decided to walk into Llandudno, split up, and try and get a train to London.  After buying a packet of cigarettes, Tholens went into a café in Mostyn Street where waitress, Nellie Hughes, served him a cup of coffee and piece of cake.  He left the coffee bar and outside the Tudno Hotel was approached by Police Constable Morris Williams who asked his identity, the German replied “I am a Lieutenant-Commander in the German Navy, I am one of the officers who escaped from the camp at Denbigh.  I want to be arrested”. Williams escorted him to the police station.

Unable to locate the other two fugitives the authorities staked out the railway station but no men matching the descriptions entered the concourse.  To be sure the London-bound train was stopped at Colwyn Bay and every compartment searched but to no avail as von Hennig and von Heldorf had just entered the offices of the Silver Motor Company in Llandudno.  They asked for a car but when staff tried engaging them in conversation the Germans departed abruptly. 

That evening, around the same time the innocent council accountant was being harangued, cab driver, Alfred Davies was on his way to pick up a fare from the Pier Pavilion. He noticed two men standing under an ornamental lamp in North Parade in the pouring rain.  He pulled over and asked if they needed a cab and understanding that they did, he opened the door for them and they climbed in. In broken English they asked to be taken “to the colonel” so he took them to the headquarters of the London Welsh battalion who were billeted in Gloddaeth Street. The following day all three were taken back to the camp in Llansannan in an ambulance belonging to the London Welsh, and they subsequently each served three months in Chelmsford Jail for the attempted escape.

Elias Henry Jones

26 Jan

Overlooking the Menai Straits in Bangor is the imposing house – Menaidale – the home of Elias Henry Jones a twentieth century soldier, author and academic. Eldest son of Sir Henry Jones he was born in Aberystwyth in September 1883 and was educated at Glanadda Infants School in Bangor and Llangernyw Village School before attending Glasgow High School when his father was appointed Professor of Moral Philosophy at the City’s university.  Elias continued his education at the Universities of Glasgow, Grenoble and Oxford.

He was a brilliant student and at the age of 21 successfully passed the Indian Civil Service examination and from 1906 to 1915 held various district appointments in Burma.  At the outbreak of the First World War he served in an artillery regiment in Mesopotamia, at first in the ranks and then later as a commissioned officer.

He was captured at the surrender of Kut-el-Amara and was taken Prisoner of War in Anatolia, Turkey and force marched 700 miles to a camp at Yozgad. The story of his captivity is told in his book “The Road to En-dor” where he described how along with Lieutenant C.W. Hill (an Australian serving in the R.A.F.) their escape. Duty-bound as officers to attempt escape, Jones sensed that what had previously been the harmless fun of fooling around with a homemade Ouija board could be turned into something much more productive. Playing on the naive nature of their captors, Hill and Jones weaved an incredibly elaborate plot and hatched a plan to escape.  Acting as mediums for the Ouija board, they attempted to convince their captors that they could reveal the whereabouts of buried treasure on the Mediterranean coast, once there, they planned to abscond to Cyprus. Although the original plan failed, Jones and Hill decided to persist with the ruse of insanity to gain repatriation on medical grounds. They succeeded (although a fake suicide attempt by Elias Jones nearly cost him his life) and they were approved for a prisoner exchange and arrived back in Britain a couple of months before the end of the war.

In 1919, while on military sick leave, he became secretary to Lord Curzon on the ‘Middle East Committee’ of which Winston Churchill was also a member. Later he returned to Burma where he became Commissioner of Excise and Secretary to the Departments of Education, Public Health and Local Government. He was also a member of the Burma Legislative Council.

In April 1922 he came to live at Menai Dale with his wife, Mair, and four children before returning to Burma the very next day.  His daughter recalled him walking out of the front door while her Mother played “the tune from ‘Rusticana’ which was their tune” on the piano.

In 1924, Jones retired from the Indian Civil Service, and came back to Bangor to be with his family and occupied himself with public work. Elias Henry Jones was a keen fisherman and a good shot and enjoyed nothing more than fishing and shooting in the Lake District and Snowdonia with his sons. Elected to Bangor town council in 1928, in the same year he was also appointed a member of the Councils of both the University of Wales and the University of North Wales and acted as a tutor in Economics and Political Science at Coleg Harlech.

In 1933 he became Secretary and Registrar to the University College of North Wales even though he was already serving on over sixty committees connected with voluntary public work.  He became ill in November 1940, four months after his son Arthur had been killed in action in the Second World War.

Just before his death in December 1942 he stated “that there should be no flowers and no fuss” and that those who would have sent wreaths should “save their money for Coleg Harlech to make the path easier for some poor lad”. He died at Runwell Hospital in Essex after a long illness aged 59 years.



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