‘Who is that?’ asked a cousin last week.
‘That’s our great grandfather, Albert Luxton. His uniform was from when he was in the military police after the First World War.’
Born in 1880, he was the youngest among his siblings to serve in the 15th Hussars. Along with Albert, there were older brothers William, Henry and Richard, each enlisting with the Corps of Hussars, each being assigned to the 15th Hussars, each being assigned to other units later in their career.
Military service seemed to have come with severe hardships.
Richard was deemed unfit for military service at the beginning of 1900, but was called back to the colours that summer and was despatched to South Africa to join the battle against the Boers. His health did not improve in the decade that followed and he died at the age of 42 in 1914.
Born in 1869, Henry was three years senior to Richard, and perhaps set the pattern for his younger brothers, enlisting at the age of eighteen. Henry completed the twelve years for which he enlisted and was transferred to the army reserve. Back at home in Aller, his wife died just before the First World War, and Henry returned to army life at the age of forty-five. Great great grandmother Luxton became the guardian of his children, a woman whose reputation for severity has been passed down through the generations. Henry’s attestation has ‘United Kingdom service only’, written across the top. He served as squadron sergeant major in a number of military depots. It was 1920, when he was fifty-one, before Henry returned to civilian life.
The answer to why the four brothers joined the army, facing hardship and risking death, was not hard to find. The occupations listed on the papers are manual work, one is a gardener, the others are labourers. Work was scarce, pay was poor, army life was a better option than remaining in Aller in the hope of improvement.
On returning from the Western Front in 1919, Albert found himself facing the situation common to hundreds of thousands of other soldiers who were being demobbed. He had been a soldier for twenty years and had no other trade. He rejoined the army and was sent to Ireland where the War of Independence had begun.
For years there was a fear in the family that he had served with the Black and Tans. Only in recent months did I discover that he had served with the Military Provost Staff Corps. He had the unenviable task of trying to police soldiers, many of whom, like himself, were still in uniform because they could find no other work.
One of the recollections of him among older family members was of him having a serious drink problem in latter years. Such a comment prompted a sharp response on my part. ‘Can you imagine serving as a cavalryman throughout the Great War and you come home and no-one wants you? Would you not have started to drink? Can you imagine the PTSD he must have suffered?’
