Journal of William Brazear

By William Brazear

This is a transcript of the Journal of Private William Brazear, from his father's death in 1895 to the death of his son during the second World War.

It tells of his journey on foot from London to Wales, a distance of some 200 miles, in order to find work and goes on to tell of his imprisonment in a German prisoner of war camp during WWI. This particular part is of great interest during this, the one hundredth anniversary of the beginning of that war.

I have transcribed the journal from his own handwriting, and have not corrected any spelling mistakes or errors in grammar. I wanted it to stay in his own voice and I hope to have achieved that.

Bill Brazear was not a famous man, nor a well known historical figure, but one of the unsung heroes to whom we all owe our freedom. I have published this as a tribute to all the unsung heroes and hope it will be appreciated as such.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joshua Publishing
• Release date: Dec 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781507098875

Book preview

JOURNAL OF WILLIAM BRAZEAR

September 21st 1895  My father died at either 12 or 14 Manchester Street, Notting Hill, London (now known as Mersey Street).  From the above date I started to keep a diary, for the trouble began.  I had one of the best fathers, a model man, just a cigar on Sunday, perhaps a glass of beer, and the same on bank holidays, but between times my recollection of him was bed, work, home and so-on.  So you may guess that when he left us, he was missed. My brother, George, was born a little before, and that made the burden harder for my mother. After she was well enough, she started a laundry business at Alfred House, Abbey Road, Notting Dale, London.  Things went on well for a time. Then drink and relatives were brought into the business, and it went flat. Well, eventually four of us were taken away to an orphanage. My sisters, Emma, Lizzie, my brother Tom and myself. This was in 1896 and I must say we were well treated. The school was known as the Kensington and Chelsea District School, Banstead, Surrey.  During my stay there I won several prizes.  In 1897 I competed in a syllabus competition or examination, although I failed.  It ride the following year, 1898, and received first and second prize.  I also received a first prize for swimming.  I think my sister, Liz, was also successful as a swimmer.

One thing I will always remember from Banstead is the lick with the birch I received for defending my brother Tom against an official, but that probably done me good for I finished up as head monitor in the cottage.  That is a position next to the mother and father, and you are considered a sort of sergeant major.  I should mention that each cottage was governed by a man and woman, husband and wife, and we had to call  them mother and father, and there was about forty children in each cottage, but I realise now that those foster parents had their work cut out. 

The names of my parents at the school were Mr. & Mr. Walters.  At the age of fourteen, I was sent from the home to take a position apprenticed at a cycle works.  At that time cycles were in full swing.  Well, this job nearly broke my heart.  I started there on the 9th May 1899 and managed to stay there until July 1st 1900.  During that period my regular routine was filing brazings in the morning, after doing the housework, and running with young ladies, learning them to ride in the afternoons.  The result was that I was handsore from the rasp, footsore from running, and heartsore from the whole thing.  Of course I was a bound apprentice and could not leave easy, so I made up my mind to run away from there.  This I arranged for the night time so that I could work my baggage out also, for I had good clothes and other valuables.  Well, I managed to get out all right, but after I had turned the corner, I was greeted by a constable.  Where are you off to, Sonny?  This was about three in the morning.  Well, I satisfied him by telling him that I had left my place, but I didn’t tell him that I had been apprenticed.  However, I wandered on to my mother’s house and, although it was only about five miles, it seemed much more to me because my heart was heavy.  Then to make matters worse I thought that I should have stayed at my place, because she was having a struggle herself.  This was the 1st July 1900. 

Well, on the first of the same month, I succeeded in getting a job as counter attendant at the Lighthouse Coffee Rooms in Latimer Road, Notting Hill.  The job was all right, by the trifle I was getting there, extra to my food, I had to give to my mother to keep things going at home.  The result was that I became shabby, and I was told that my services were no longer required.  Once again I was in despair, for I knew what to expect when I got home.  Employment was not too bad then, but I did not have the experience of finding work.  Therefore I was unemployed for a couple of weeks.  It became unbearable at home, but I had no alternative, until one Sunday evening I had a crack with a saucepan on the head, and I became unconscious.  Well, when I came to, I know I was miserable and crying.  I walked out of the house with nowhere to go, but I met the good Samaritan in an old school friend.  He saw my plight and took pity on me.  He knew of a job where I could sleep in, and feed in, but I couldn’t see the boss that night, so he gave me sixpence to go to a common lodging house for the night and to meet him in the morning.  I hope none of you will have to go to a lodging house like the one I went to, what with kippers, bacon and porridge being burnt, and the heavy pipe smoking, I had enough.  One old chap asked me when I was going to have food and I told him I had none, but he gave me the bones of his kipper to pick, and he put some more water on his tea leaves.  This was all right.  Although it had no sugar or milk, it was hot, and being as I’m speaking of December 30th, you may guess it was cold.  But I went to sleep contented, knowing that there was prospects for the morning.

I was out like a lark and met my friend.  He took me along to the boss, Mr. A. Edwards at Wormwood Scrubs, and I was accepted.  The first job I had to do was to take out some orders with the horse and van.  This was where the test came, for I had said that I could drive, but I had not driven previously, so I just loaded the van with the orders and when the boss was out of the way I just led the horse round the corner, mounted the seat, and became a driver.  I may tell you that when I had distributed the orders, I drove back to the shop like a coachman.  Mr. Edwards was well satisfied with me, and gave me several rises in wages.  He treated me like a son.  Things went well until his dog (a big Old English Sheep Dog) either went mad, or took a dislike to me.  He attacked me, and after biting me all over, I think he would have finished me, if my boss, Mr. Edwards, had not arrived.  He got the dog from me with a stable fork, and the dog had to be shot.  I had about three months sick and convalescence at his expense, and towards the finish his wife, who was of the miserable type, began to show that she was not pleased.  Of course, the reason was that she had missed my help, for I was domesticated, and used to help with the housework and the cooking.  But my governor asked me to stick and bear it, for he knew that my customers had taken to me.  Further, he was a genuine old gent.  I carried on until the 5th June 1901, then I had an offer of better money, and the possibility of learning a trade.

The offer came from Lutz Bros Bakers of Wormwood Scrubs.  I had been stabling with them, and probably they had seen me working and thought I would be handy to them.  Well, I started.  After I had been with them three years, and just beginning to think I was a baker, disaster came again.  The German baker with me had recently come from Germany and could not speak English, and of course that made him very suspicious.  We were working night work together and I had said something that had given him the impression that I had said something about him.  However, he attacked me with a knife and after receiving two nasty cuts from him, I done what most people would have done under the circumstances.  I just gave him a tap with the rolling pin, and he went to sleep but