While at Harrow Guy excelled both in the combined cadet force―becoming a company sergeant major in his final year―and in the boxing ring, where he beat every one of his opponents with the notable exception of the match against Radley, where he came up against a Nigerian, who I later learned was in his mid-twenties.
It saddened me that during his last term at school Guy was not made a prefect. I understood that he had become involved in so many other activities that it was not considered to be in his own best interests. Although I might have hoped that his exam results would have been a little more satisfactory, I have always considered that he was one of those children who can be described as innately intelligent rather than academically clever. Despite a rather biased housemaster's report that suggested some of the marks Guy had been awarded in his final exams came as a surprise to him, my son still managed to secure his place at Sandhurst.
At the academy Guy proved to be a first-class cadet and also found time to continue with his boxing, becoming the cadet middleweight champion. Two years later, in July 1916, he passed out in the top half of the roll of honor before going on to join his father's old regiment.
Gerald, I should point out, had left the Fusiliers on the death of his father in order that he might return to Berkshire and take over the running of the family estates. He had been a brevet colonel at the time of his forced retirement, and many considered that he was the natural successor to be the Commanding Officer of the Regiment. As it turned out, he was passed over for someone who wasn't even in the first battalion, a certain Danvers Hamilton. Although I had never met the gentleman in question, several brother officers expressed the view that his appointment had been a travesty of justice. However, I had every confidence that Guy would redeem the family honor and in time go on to command the regiment himself.
Although Gerald was not directly involved in the Great War he did nevertheless serve his country during those arduous years by allowing his name to be put forward as a parliamentary candidate for Berkshire West, a constituency that in the middle of the last century his grandfather had represented for the Liberals under Palmerston. He was returned unopposed in three elections and worked for his party diligently from the back benches, having made it clear to all concerned that he had no desire to hold office.
After Guy had received the King's commission, he was despatched to Aldershot as a second lieutenant, where he continued with his training in preparation for joining the regiment on the Western Front. On being awarded his second pip in less than a year he was transferred to Edinburgh and seconded to the fifth battalion a few weeks before they were ordered to sail for France.
Nigel, meanwhile, had just entered Harrow and was attempting to follow in his brother's footsteps—I fear, however, not with quite the same obvious flair. In fact during one of those interminable holidays they will give children nowadays he complained to me of being bullied. I told the boy to buckle down and remember that we were at war. I also pointed out that I could never recall Guy making a fuss on that particular score.
I watched my two sons closely during that long summer of 1917 and cannot pretend that Guy found Nigel an amiable companion while he was at home on leave; in fact he barely tolerated his company. I kept telling Nigel that he had to strive to gain his elder brother's respect, but this only resulted in Nigel running off to hide in the garden for hours on end.
During his leave that summer I advised Guy to visit his grandfather in Yorkshire and even found a first edition of Songs of Innocence to present him with which I knew my father had long wanted to add to his collection. Guy returned a week later and confirmed that securing a William Blake the old man did not have had indeed put Grandpa "in good salts."
Naturally, like any mother, during that particular inspiring period in our history I became anxious that Guy should be seen to acquit himself well in the face of the enemy, and eventually, God willing, return home in one piece. As it turned out, I think I can safely say that no mother, however proud, could have asked for more of a son.
Guy was promoted to the rank of captain at a very young age, and following the second battle of the Marne, was awarded the Military Cross. Others who read the citation felt he had been a touch unlucky not to have been put forward for the VC. I have resisted pointing out to them that any such recommendation would have had to be countersigned by his commanding officer in the field, and as he was a certain Danvers Hamilton the injustice was readily explicable.
Soon after the Armistice was signed Guy returned home to serve a tour of duty at the regimental barracks in Hounslow. While he was on leave I asked Spinks to engrave both of his MCs, dress and miniature, with the initials G.F.T. Meanwhile, his brother Nigel was, after some influence being exercised by Gerald, finally accepted as a cadet at the Royal Military Academy.
During the time Guy was back in London, I feel certain he sowed a few wild oats—what young man of that age doesn't. But he well understood that marriage before the age of thirty could only harm his chances of promotion.
Although he brought several young ladies down to Ashurst on the weekends, I knew none of them was serious and anyway, I already had my eye on a particular girl from the next village who had been known to the family for some considerable time. Despite being without a title she could trace her family back to the Norman Conquest. More important, they could walk on their own land from Ashurst to Hastings.
It thus came as a particularly unpleasant shock for me when Guy turned up one weekend accompanied by a girl called Rebecca Salmon, who, I found it hard to believe, was at that time sharing rooms with the Harcourt-Brownes' daughter.
As I have already made abundantly clear, I am not a snob. But Miss Salmon is, I fear, the type of girl who always manages to bring out the worst in me. Don't misunderstand me. I have nothing against anyone simply because they wish to be educated. In fact I'm basically in favor of such goings-on—in sensible proportions—but at the same time that doesn't allow one to assume one automatically has a right to a place in society. You see, I just can't abide anyone who pretends to be something that they obviously are not, and I sensed even before meeting Miss Salmon that she was coming down to Ashurst with one purpose in mind.
We all understood that Guy was having a fling while he was based in London—after all, Miss Salmon was that type of girl. Indeed, when the following weekend I had Guy to myself for a few moments I was able to warn him never to allow the likes of Miss Salmon to get her hooks into him; he must realize he would be a marvelous catch for someone from her background.
Guy laughed at such a suggestion and assured me that he had no long-term plans for the baker's daughter. In any case, he reminded me, he would be departing to serve with the colors in Poona before too long, so marriage was out of the question. He must have sensed, however, that my fears were still not fully assuaged, because after a further thought he added, "it may interest you to know, Mother, that Miss Salmon is presently walking out with a sergeant from the regiment with whom she has an understanding."
In fact two weeks later Guy appeared at Ashurst with a Miss Victoria Berkeley, a far more suitable choice whose mother I had known for years; indeed, if the girl hadn't had four other sisters and an impoverished archdeacon for a father, she might in time have suited admirably.
To be fair, after that single unfortunate occasion Guy never mentioned the name of Rebecca Salmon in my presence again, and as he sailed for India a few months later, I assumed I had heard the last of the wretched girl.