Whilst the vast majority of sick and wounded men who came to Beechland House were British soldiers, there were also men who found themselves thousands of miles away from home. 

 

As early as December 1914, The Brighton Gazette had reported the first arrival at Brighton railway station of wounded Indian soldiers headed for the Brighton Pavilion. Eager to receive these strange turbaned ‘Sons of the East’ the train had been officially met by the chief constable, the mayor and representatives from The British Red Cross and St. John Ambulance.  Crowds gathered in the rain along the route from Brighton station to the Pavilion, where they stood and cheered the men who had come to England's aid in time of need.  A mixture of curiosity and gratitude ensured that the route was packed but if the sight of these dark and unfamiliar warriors was a novelty, the condition in which they arrived was already all too depressingly familiar.  Still muddied from the battlefield, bloodied, exhausted and in pain, 345 patients were helped down from the train, nearly half of this number requiring stretchers and motor ambulances, the remainder straggling behind.

 

That same month, the Brighton Corn Exchange ceased its use as a corn market and the building was converted into a 724 bed military hospital specifically for the use of wounded Indian soldiers.  The Brighton workhouse, hastily renamed the Kitchener General Indian Hospital was converted into a military training hospital and provided a further 2,000 beds whilst York Place Hospital was converted into a 550 bed military hospital specially adapted for Indian wounded soldiers. Former class rooms were suddenly filled with beds and the gymnasium transformed into a 60 bed ward.

 

For those Sikh and Hindu soldiers who succumbed to their wounds, a small site was set aside on the Sussex Downs close to Patcham, where their bodies could be cremated.  Today, a domed Chattri marks the spot where the cremations took place and an inscription in English and Hindi records the events. "To the memory of all Indian soldiers who gave their lives for their King Emperor in the Great War, this monument, erected on the site of the funeral pyre where the Hindus and Sikhs who died in hospital at Brighton passed through the fire, is in grateful admiration and brotherly affection dedicated."

 

The Indian soldiers did not venture as far north as Chailey and in any event, the 2^nd Eastern General Hospital to which Hickwells and Beechland House were affiliated was not one of the hospitals taking in Indian troops.  Nevertheless, the villagers of Chailey and Newick would have been well aware of the Indian presence close by and many of them witnessed at first hand the convalescent soldiers resting near the Pavilion, walking along the seafront or simply staring out to sea from the promenade.

 

Lance-Corporal Albert Smith had seen plenty of Indian soldiers of course, both in England and on the Western Front, but he was somewhat surprised that the people he encountered in England regarded him as an object of both interest and affection.  Yes, he was Canadian and yes, he was still young, but it was all the more bemusing to him because he was actually a native of Kent and his mother still lived in Canterbury.

 

Smith was 20 years old and living in Orillia, Ontario when war was declared.  Although his attestation paper gives his ‘Trade or Calling’ as ‘waiter’, all other surviving references state that he was a ‘carriage mounter’.  Men enlisted “… for the term of one year, or during the war now existing between Great Britain and Germany should that war last longer than one year, and for six months after the termination of that war...” Smith duly made the declaration, swore an oath of allegiance to King George the Fifth and signed where indicated.  It was 9^th November 1914.  The only point worthy of note by the Medical Officer at Toronto the previous day had been a scar on the fore finger of Smith’s right hand and he had sailed through the medical examination without further hindrance.  Over the course of the next three years though, his general health would take a decided turn for the worst.

 

Smith was posted to the 20^th Canadian Overseas Infantry battalion but it was not until 7^th June 1916 that he had arrived in France.  Just five days later he was hit by shrapnel in the groin, elbow and nose while the battalion was in Bluff Trenches at St Eloi.

 

It was a far cry from the heady enthusiasm and promise of 1914. The men, all volunteers, had rushed to sign up and had trained hard as a unit, fretting lest the war would be over before they had even got to where the fighting was.  They need not have worried.  On 24^th May 1915, a little over six months after he had enlisted at Toronto, Private 57941 Albert Edward Smith was walking down the gangplank of the SS Megautie having just arrived in England.  Exactly one week later he had been appointed lance corporal, then disaster.  An accident in July had caused him to be admitted to hospital with phlebitis in his right leg and in the eleven months since that first admission he been in and out of  hospitals in Southern England: Grange Hospital, Deal; Walmer War Hospital, Deal; Canadian Convalescent Hospital, Epsom; London War Hospital, Epsom.  More worrying still was the legacy of the condition which manifested itself as a constant dull pain in his right leg.  Even a moderate walk of three miles had been enough to cause the entire right knee to swell and stiffen which, for an infantryman who would soon be slogging across the pave roads of France and Belgium, was not a promising sign. 

 

Now he had an extra burden to contend with as a result of the gunshot wound.  At least it had not been in his good leg. “Pain in right groin,” Captain J A Gilchrist would later note on Smith’s Medical History Form, “dull aching in character, constant, but varying in intensity – increased by standing or walking ½ mile.  Does not keep soldier awake, except after prolonged exercise or standing.  Femur cannot be flexed more than 90 degrees from vertical.  Extension normal.”

 

Smith’s tour of hospitals continued.  Admitted initially to the No 13 Stationary Hospital at Boulogne he soon found himself stretchered onto the HS Jan Breydel en route to England and the Dartford War Hospital.  Further spells at the Canadian Convalescent Hospital at Epsom would follow and then, just as he was recovering, appendicitis forced a further admission and the removal of his appendix.

 

For Smith, the repeated spells in hospital, and in particular his stays at the Canadian Convalescent Hospital in Epsom had not been without its benefits.  For a wounded Tommy, especially one far from home, there was never a shortage of young ladies to fuss over him and romance had definitely been in the air.  In October 1916 he was betrothed to be married to 29 year old Alice Ada West, a domestic cook, of Epsom, Surrey. Recording his age as 28 years (although he was still only 22), his occupation as motor lorry driver and his length of residence at Graffham, Sussex as one day, the marriage licence form indicated that the wedding would take place within three calendar months. 

 

By November 1916, Lance Corporal Smith was at Newick and leaving his mark in Nurse Oliver’s book.

Leicester-born James Bentley had also emigrated to Canada before the war and according to his attestation papers was living in Sarnia, Ontario and working as a car and coach repairer when he enlisted in August 1915.  He was 25 years old and unmarried.  Enlisting with the 34^th Battalion he had arrived in England aboard the SS California in November 1915 and spent the next six months there before being sent overseas to France where he was posted first to the 2^nd and then immediately to the 7^th Battalion.  That was on the 26^th May 1916.  Less than three weeks later he had been hit in the knee by a shell fragment at Hill 60 near Ypres.  Dressed at various aid stations, removed first to Poperinghe and then to Number 14 General Hospital at Boulogne where he had undergone surgery to remove his left knee cap, he had finally been lifted on board a hospital ship bound for England.  Arriving at the 2^nd Eastern General Hospital at Brighton on 26^th June, exactly ten days after being wounded he would spend the next eleven months in a succession of English hospitals before being discharged in May 1917 and returned to Canada.

 

In November 1916 he had found himself at Beechland House and wrote a verse in Nurse Oliver’s album, also recording the date of his wound and drawing a large maple leaf.  When he had enlisted 15 months earlier, the medical officer examining him had noted, amongst other distinguishing marks, “scars on knee caps”.  Now though, there was only one scarred knee cap and the damage to his left leg was severe.

 

“Patient is lame and unable to bend leg” recorded Wallace Scott, the officer in charge of Moore Barracks Canadian Hospital as he filled out a medical report on Private Bentley in March 1917.  “Curved scar 7 inches anterior portion femur.  Old scars on under side of joint healed where tubes have been.  Small sinus still discharging on external surface… present condition Ankylosis of joint – atrophy of Quadriceps extension…” and then, almost wryly, “all other organs healthy.”

 

James Bentley was discharged from the Canadian Contingent Expeditionary Force on 30th September 1917. 

 

Unlike Bentley and Smith, Private Albert Burnett of the Canadian Expeditionary Force did not spend time at Beechland House as a wounded Tommy although he certainly knew the area better than both of them.  He had emigrated from Chailey in April 1914 and now, two and a half years later, he was preparing to sail back to Europe in defence of Britain.

 

 “CHAILEY MAN ENLISTS IN CANADA” reported the East Sussex News in September 1916, going on to relate how James Burnett had joined the 240^th Overseas Battalion at Renfrew in Canada.  In actual fact, it was already Burnett’s second spell with the Canadian Expeditionary Force.  His first, with the 111^th Battalion, had lasted just 61 days.  Enlisting in January 1916 he had been discharged in March as a result of ‘fits’.  Now, less than three weeks after striding down the gangplank of the SS Lapland in England with the 130^th Battalion, he was in hospital at West Sandling.

 

Albert Burnett is another example of a man who should never have even contemplated donning a khaki uniform, let alone go through the enlistment process twice.  He must have known deep down that he wasn’t strong enough for army life yet appears to have shrugged off his own poor medical history record, perhaps hoping that the epilepsy which had plagued him all his life would now somehow miraculously disappear.

 

“No fits in immediate family,” noted the doctor on his Medical Case Sheet, although “Parents say he has had these fits since birth.  Had severe fall seven years ago during fit.  His bicycle ran over an embankment – fits more frequent since. Grandfather had fits.” 

 

By the time the report was being written, Burnett was ‘fitting’ on average once a day.  He was returned to Canada on 1^st December 1917 and discharged from the Army at Quebec before the month was out.

 

Concert parties and ‘entertainments’, often involving fancy dress as above, were a good way of keeping patients amused as well as raising funds.   

 

On January 24th, a Whist Drive was held at The Reading Room in aid of Beechland House, the grand sum of two pounds and two shillings being raised from the twenty four and a half tables taking part.  Rifleman Maginnis, still hobbling from the bullet wounds received in front of Martinpuich four months earlier, took the third prize overall and was rewarded with a pipe rack.  Corporal Reynolds, wounded at Ypres in May 1915 and now at Beechland House recovering from a second wound received the first prize in the category ‘wounded soldiers only’ and was rewarded with 100 cigarettes; all the prizes for wounded soldiers and refreshments on the day being ‘the gift of a lady’.

 

The following Saturday, Nurse Oliver took time off nursing duties to attend a wedding at the Parish Church.  The Reed family of Bineham Farmhouse, who had lost their invalid son the previous January, had invited her to attend the wedding of their second daughter Helena.  After the tragedy of losing Herbert, here at last was something for Mr and Mrs Reed to celebrate.  Helena was marrying Corporal Charles Colbourn of The Sussex Regiment and before the happy couple left for a brief honeymoon in London, Nurse Oliver ensured that he too had left his mark in her album. 

 

In February 1917, Beechland House staged its most ambitious enterprise to date with a performance of Beauty & The Beast, a pantomime in three acts written by Miss Hughes. All of the characters were played by convalescing soldiers, 24 in total, with a number of the nursing staff filling in.  All proceeds were for The Prisoners of War Fund and as a warm up to the main event, Mr Gus Avery – a local man with three sons already serving and a fourth who would join them within a couple of months - delivered some comic songs while Miss Marshall and Miss Hoather gave recitations and further songs.    The performance was premiered at The Parish Room on Wednesday 7^th with a repeat performance held the following Wednesday.  Riflleman Maginnis was involved again, taking the role of a Merchant while his fellow Cameronian, Rifleman Hobbs, took the role of Folly.  Even Lance-Corporal Smith, “Canada” to his friends, was fit enough after the removal of his appendix to take on a minor role but it would be his swan song in England.  Two days after the second performance he would be discharged and begin the long journey back to Canada, his military career over.  Both programmes though had been a great success, and Margaret Cotesworth, architect of the entertainment, had been afforded the customary vote of thanks from performers and attendees alike.