At war

Following the end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815 the British cut its military expenditure and reduced the regular army from 230,000 men to 91,000. Of those that remained, many were unfit for actual military combat. So, in the 1850s, when Napoleon III appeared to be about to use his powerful army to invade Britain, thousands of Britons rushed to join volunteer cavalry, artillery and infantry regiments. Although these volunteer soldiers were never required as the feared French invasion failed to materialise, some units endured as many of the volunteer regiments offered the chance to wear a stylish uniform, and attend balls and other social events.

By 1880 those volunteer units still in existence began to become more professionally focused towards potential conflict and the military authorities identified the bicycle as having a valuable role to play in any future war. Thus it was decided to form Volunteer Cyclist Corps and many members of bicycle clubs joined: ‘The 1st Forfar Rifle Volunteers regiment is taking active steps for raising a section of cyclists to be connected with the battalion. These sections may comprise one officer, two non-commissioned officers, 17 to 20 privates, and one bugler. Their duties will consist of making accurate reconnaissance and performing efficient scouting operations, which are regarded by the authorities as being of the highest importance. The men, besides being good riders, will be expected to qualify as marksmen, and to acquire knowledge of telegraphy army signalling. The machine recommended is the safety bicycle. Regards equipment, the officer will be armed with a revolver, and the men with rifle and bayonet, carried on their machine along with service kit. The dress will correspond as nearly as possible to the dress of the regiment, though breeches or knickerbockers will be substituted for trousers, and a forage or Glengarry cap will be worn. The 1st Forfar are to be commended for their readiness in adopting this new movement, which should meet with the success it deserves.[1]

With a number of volunteer cycle corps already formed by 1881, a gentleman offered a Challenge Cup valued at 70 guineas to any team of eight cyclists attached to the army who all could ride 100 miles in full uniform and carrying 10 lb. of ammunition. One team from the Gordon Highlanders took up the challenge and when the Queen who was staying at Balmoral Castle heard of their attempt, instructed them to pass the castle at midday. ‘The team set off from Aberdeen at 6am to run to Inver and back. They halted at Banchory for break-fast. Shortly after noon they arrived at Balmoral where Her Majesty the Queen, accompanied by Princess Beatrice, Prince Henry of Battenberg, and other members of the royal family were seated in an open carriage drawn by four greys. A large number of the servants and others from the castle were standing about in groups. On the team coming up with Her Majesty's carriage, the leader, Sergeant Jolly, gave the order, “eyes left” - the cyclist’s salute - which Her Majesty graciously acknowledged by bowing. The servants gave the men a ringing cheer as they passed. When Inver was reached one of the team sickened, and kept the others waiting for an hour. On the return journey another man's machine gave way under him, which necessitated his taking the train, thereby disqualifying the team'.[2] However, the rest cycled back to Aberdeen and were treated to a slap-up dinner. The winners were a unit from Galloway.

While the army embraced the bicycle its sister service did not: ‘The heads of the navy are inexorable in their refusal to allow seamen to don a special cycling costume, even when they go ashore off duty, and taste the landsmens’ pleasure of the wheel. Cycles, from the nature of things, are hardly ever likely to be be used officially in the navy, but officers and men alike are notoriously fond of cycling when they touch at a port, and it is hard to see how the dignity of service would suffer from the permission to use knee breeches instead of the the regulation muchly-bagged trousers, traditionally sacred in the “Queen’s Navy”’.[3]

In January 1901 the government sought men from the cycle volunteer units to join eight bicycle companies that were being sent to South Africa to fight in the Second Boer War. The privates were to be paid five shillings a day and had to sign up for one year's service or for the duration of the war. A one-off payment of £2 was offered for those who could show that they were proficient cyclists and were in possession of a suitable bicycle. For those without a bicycle, one was supplied on arrival in South Africa. Initially there were few volunteers and so ‘an intimation went out from the Scottish headquarters to the effect that candidates for active service need not actually belong to the cyclist companies of their corps, but that volunteers who can be certified as good cyclists, and are otherwise eligible, may accepted. There is little reason doubt that the rates of pay offered have a good deal to with the apparent apathy on the part of volunteer cyclists.’[4] The pay was slightly increased and sufficient numbers volunteered to join the Scottish Volunteer Cyclist Company that consisted of a captain, 4 subalterns, 5 sergeants, 2 buglers, 5 corporals, 101 privates and 2 stretcher-bearers.

Donald Macalpine from Edinburgh - ‘a young man of strong muscular build’ – joined the company and was appointed its Armourer-Sergeant.[5] He was a member of the Vulcan Bicycle Club and a regular winner of track events. He worked as manager of the Mascot Cycling Company in Leith Walk and claimed to have supplied every member of the cycling section of the 5th Royal Scots Voluntary Battalion with his firm's machines. The Scottish Volunteer Cyclist Company was sent for training at Berwick and in April embarked for South Africa. Once there the cyclists were mainly used to carry dispatches, although their bicycles often had mechanical problems. One rider’s bicycle broke down after he had been riding for two days and a night with little rest, carrying despatches between Lord Kitchener and other army staff, and had to return to camp on horseback. Many were taken off cycle duties as was reported when the Scottish Volunteer Cyclist Company returned to Scotland in July 1902: ‘The cycles were of little use in South Africa but the company served as mounted infantry.’[6] It is likely that some of the members of the cyclist companies died or were injured during the war in South Africa as around 7,500 British soldiers died in action or from wounds, over 13,000 died of disease and 40,000 were wounded. What happened to Macalpine is not known. He had hoped to settle in Africa when the war ended: ‘Before he left to fight Macalpine formed the resolution that, on completing his engagement, he will remain in South Africa and open out in business. Undoubtedly, Mr Macalpine will find plenty of scope for his resourceful energy when the proper time arrives, and be able to enjoy happy and contented life, surrounded by his wife and family.’[7] Whether he was killed or survived and settled in South Africa is not known although he did not reappear in Edinburgh.

John  (Jack) Alonzo Cox was born in Teignmoth, Devon in 1887 but his family later moved to Fife. He was manager of shipping agents in Burntisland and lived in Kirkcaldy. In 1909 he became a member of what was by then called the Territorial Army and attended various training courses in subjects such as drill, military engineering and musketry. Presumably, he was a proficient cyclist as he was appointed Lieutenant and instructed to raise a Kirkcaldy unit of the Highland Cyclist Battalion. Like the other part-time volunteers he would have trained several evenings a week and attended a fortnight’s summer training camp. In spite of this commitment and his busy daytime job, Cox also found time for amateur dramatics. He performed in a number of amateur productions, including starring as Dick Phenyl in Pinero’s play, Sweet Lavender and the local paper was impressed ‘Cox never missed a possible point, and sometimes a single word would set the in a sympathetic and appreciative roar.’ In 1911, with a war with Germany a growing possibility, Cox wrote to the local paper: ‘We are seeking to raise 60 to 70 men for a Kirkcaldy unit of the Highland Cyclist Battalion and I hope we shall secure every man we require. The age limits are from 17 to 35 years. The work is of a most interesting nature owing to the varied departments of training, and it should be specially noted that the Company is to be a coast defence company. Those having work of a clerical nature, engineering and designing will find it doubly interesting. The uniform is provided free and is a particularly smart one, both service and walking out patterns. An annual grant for use of cycles at a substantial amount is given and an ordinary Private can draw £2. 7s 6d for his fortnight’s annual training. If Kirkcaldy can turn out 5,000 to 10,000 to a football match, surely the defence of their homes and kindred are more vital to them than seeing 22 men manoeuvring a leather ball about, although their duties in the Territorial Force need not any way interfere with their interest in football - in fact in our Battalion we have several very keen footballers.’[8]

From 1900 there had been a naval arms race between Germany and Britain and this fostered a concern that Germany would seek to invade at some point. Even as early as 1909 a Dundee newspaper recounted that a local woman had as a guest a German officer whom she had met in Berlin. The two went out cycling and the local woman was amazed when it transpired that her visitor knew all the area’s roads and junctions, and even the names of local farms. He explained that each officer in the German Army was required to learn about a particular district and by chance his was that locality.[9] Such accounts reflected a widespread perception that Germany possessed a large and effective intelligence machine preparing for invasion; a view fostered by spy novels of the period. By 1914 it was believed that Germany was in the process of flooding Britain with spies disguised as upstanding British citizens in readiness for the invasion. Thus any stranger cycling near the coast was looked on with suspicion. In the week before the outbreak of war a foreign-looking young man was noticed cycling to the shore at Glencaple in Dumfriesshire, and there seen to be making drawings. He was arrested and taken to Dumfries police station. In spite of protesting that he was a London artist working for Punch and other magazines, and lived in Suffolk, he appeared in court charged with trespass. However, the charge was dropped as his identity was confirmed thanks to his two sisters who lived near Largs.[10] This fear of invasion led to many unfortunate incidents. Just a few weeks after the declaration of war Robert Scott, a cycle mechanic in Dunbar, was cycling one evening near Longniddry when a local army sentry challenged him to stop. For some reason Scott kept cycling and the sentry shot over his head in warning, but according to the soldier, Scott increased speed, and so the sentry shot him dead.[11] There also were instances of bicycle lights being mistakenly seen as signals to German ships lying off the coast.

In fact there were very few German spies working in Britain and none provided valuable military information. One who was unmasked was a trick cyclist performing in Glasgow. Courtenay Henslot de Ryabach, whose father was an Austrian and taken British citizenship, had been performing in Germany  at the outbreak of war and was interned as a British subject at a prison camp. While there he was he was approached by the German Secret Service and agreed to become a spy with the code name ‘Cecil’. He was released and returned to Britain. There he began performing his trick cycling in music halls. In July 1915 British censors intercepted four sheets of music that de Ryabach posted to Norway, including music for The Ladder of Love.  They discovered that the scores contained secret writing in invisible ink giving detailed information about various aspects of the British war effort, such as strikes, conscription and possible military targets for German aircraft. There also was a request from de Ryabach asking his paymasters for more money so that he could gain information from his brother about Royal Navy movements. He was sentenced in October 1915 to life imprisonment although released in 1924.[12]

A small number of the Territorial Cycle troops that were part of a Scottish Borderers regiment were dispatched to Dublin in July 1914 to try and stop Irish national gun-runners. On 1 August a mob rampaged through the city and ‘two cyclist members of the Scottish Borderers were pulled from their cycles and cruelly beaten, their machines smashed and thrown into the Liffey river.’[13] Yet the troubles in Ireland were overshadowed by the looming threat of war with Germany.

At the declaration of war in August the volunteer cyclist units in Scotland were amalgamated into the Highland Cyclist 1st Battalion, stationed initially in Kirkcaldy where Jack Cox, now captain, was one of the officers in charge.  Just ten days after the declaration of war on 4 August 1914 cyclists in Fauldhouse in West Lothian assembled at the Drill Hall in the village to travel to Kirkcaldy: ‘The crowd must have numbered several hundreds. A heavy shower of rain drove the people to shelter, but they still lingered quite near the scene of interest. Shortly after one o'clock excitement ran high among the spectators at the Drill Hall as the bicycle “terriers” (the nickname for the territorials) were seen getting ready for the road. Most of the men were provided with capes, and on reaching the top of the Store Brae they mounted their machines, and were soon out of sight. Three transport motor lorries conveyed their kit bags and other necessaries.’[14] The Territorial Cycle Units were a home defence force and members could not be compelled to serve outside the country, but many volunteered for ‘Imperial Service’ which meant they could be sent overseas. 

The 10th (Cyclist) Battalion Royal Scots was an army unit and although the battalion remained in Britain at the declaration of war, the London Cycle Corps was despatched to Mons in Belgium immediately. One of the cyclists, John Parr, a fourteen-year-old Londoner who had lied about his age to join up, is thought to have been the first British soldier killed in the war when he was shot by German soldiers on 21 August while cycling on patrol. It was not long before the 10th (Cyclist) Battalion Royal Scots were in France, arriving in early January 1915. By the end of 1916, with the threat of invasion having passed and casualties in France requiring ever more men, around 90 per cent of the cyclists in the Highland Cyclist Territorial Battalions had volunteered to serve abroad. Those who joined the cyclist units, or other regiments, and were sent abroad to fight, faced grim conditions, and many were seriously injured or died. A report from Flanders in 1915 mentioned the fate of one cycle messenger: ‘The dispatch carriers, as usual, behaved with the greatest bravery. Theirs is a lonely life, and very often a lonely death. One cycle messenger lay upon the ground badly wounded. He stopped a passing officer and delivered his message, together with some verbal instructions. These were coherently given but he swooned almost before the words were out of his mouth.’[15] 

Yet a 1915 article appeared to encourage underage young men to join the cycle units by painting quite a different picture of the life: ‘It is practically one long cyclist holiday, just the sort of thing young men join cycle clubs for. Glorious rides along unfrequented roads, with the added excitement of being "on duty” and on the lookout for prowling Germans. I am of the opinion there will scores of lads who will stretch their birthdays by a year or two in order qualify for this sort of thing. Even where they are for foreign service the prospect of that life has its particular fascination and its own of daring which should prove irresistibly attractive. To those of my readers who may find this call to arms the opportunity of a lifetime I would advise them get into action at once.’[16] It was true that life for those in the cyclist units who remained in Britain was relatively comfortable as the threat of invasion swiftly passed and members even were able to indulge in cycle races. ‘The Companies of the Highland Cyclist Battalion at present stationed at St Andrews held regimental sports at the University Recreation Park on Monday afternoon. There was keen rivalry among the men to secure the honours for their respective Companies, and all the events were well contested. The Battalion has evidently been able to attract to its ranks of first-class athletes. The cycle race naturally evoked the utmost interest. The contestants besides riding their own machine had to tow another cycle, and skill as well as strength was called for. Melvin of B Company was the victor.’[17]

Captain Jack Cox was posted to serve with the 1st Highland Cyclist Battalion and took part in significant fighting and in August 1915 was promoted to Major in charge of 4th Cyclist Company Regulars. He was then seconded to the 12th Battalion Highland Light Infantry and in May 1918 awarded the DS0 when, coincidentally, his company was attacked by German cyclists. The citation read: ‘For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty when the enemy raided our outposts with mounted patrols and cyclists. During the confusion he, with another officer and a few men, put up a desperate hand-to-hand combat with the raiders and so allowed time for the company to rally and show a united front. His quickness of perception and courage have been of the greatest assistance to his C.O. on many critical occasions.’[18] Soon after he returned to Britain for leave and training, before returning to Belgium in mid-July. Two months later he was killed in heavy shelling during the Fifth Battle of Ypres and is buried in Aeroplane Cemetery near Leper.

Many miners who were keen cyclists joined the Cyclist Battalions. Walter Bradley, a 23 year-old miner from the village of Blackridge in Linlithgowshire joined up within weeks of the declaration of war and arrived in France with the 18th Corps Cyclist Battalion on 14 January 1915. A letter to his parents in October of that year partly hinted at the horrors of the trenches: ‘I have been in the trenches since 30th September, and have only got back tonight. I was helping putting up wire entanglements in our first line of trenches. It was not a nice job. The first night we were bombarded, a shell struck our gun pit and three men were wounded. The second night we ran into a German patrol but we got clear. A bullet struck a buckle of my belt and bruised me, but I was able to continue my work.’ Bradley remained in France throughout the war and was promoted to corporal, but was killed by a German sniper on 19 October 1918, just three weeks before the armistice.

Henry Suttie from Auchtermuchty was working as a journeyman baker in 1908 when he joined the 8th Volunteer Cyclist Battalion, Royal Highland Regiment. He was a keen footballer and cyclist, and no doubt enjoyed a pint or two in the local Bicycle Tavern, the only pub in Scotland named after the bike. When war was declared he was transferred into the 20th Battalion The King's Liverpool Regiment and arrived in France in 1915. The regiment was among those that took part in some of the fiercest battles of the war, with heavy loss of life. He survived through to January 1918 but then was accidentally killed. He appears in a remarkable montage photograph made in 1920 by Frank Findlay that includes all 29 men from Auchtermuchty who died in the war. There also were many keen cyclists who joined non-cycle units. Robert Mair who worked as a mechanic in an Aberdeen cycle shop was an enthusiastic member of the Bon Accord Cycling Club and a winner of many races in the club’s colours. He joined the Gordon Highlanders and was one of the soldiers that took part in the Somme offensive that was launched on 1 July 1916. Although he was not one of 21,000 to die in the first day, he was killed six weeks later.

Fortunately, there were many such as Alexander Easson of the Motherwell Cycling Club who survived in spite of the carnage. He joined the Gordons within a few weeks of the war’s declaration, although for part of 1915 he spent some time in the Cycle Corps. Easson was involved in some of the bloodiest conflicts, including the battles at Loos and the Somme, and was promoted to Lieutenant. In September 1918 when the war was being fought to a conclusion, he was involved in the offensive at the Canal du Nord and won the Military Cross: ‘Lieutenant Easson took command of his company after the company commander had become a casualty, and led the company across the canal with great dash under heavy machine gun fire, and personally killed part of a machine gun team. Later, during an enemy counter attack, he rallied his men and successfully led them forward under very heavy fire. Throughout the operations, his example was most inspiring to all his men.’[19] On his return to Motherwell he became a motor inspector and returned to cycling, and his luck held as he survived being struck by a horse-drawn milk-float in 1921.[20]

Many men who had worked as cycle mechanics went off to the war and this caused a shortage of skilled mechanics at a time of increased bicycle use in Britain. This was not an occupation that had military exemption so individuals had to make a case to their local tribunal that considered whether or not men should be excluded from conscription. Alexander Tavendale, a bicycle and motor mechanic in Laurencekirk, successfully applied for absolute exemption but the military authorities appealed against the decision on the ground that a mechanic was not a certified occupation. The advocate who heard the case rejected the appeal as Tavendale was the only mechanic within ten miles of Laurencekirk and absolutely essential for the district.[21] Although newspapers throughout the war were filled with adverts seeking experienced mechanics and women filled many jobs where there was a shortage of male labour, no women appear to have become bicycle mechanics.

On 21 May 1921 on a perfect summer evening ‘the greatest assembly of cyclists the world has ever seen’ - estimated at around 10,000 - arrived in the small village of Malden, near Coventry for the unveiling of the national memorial to all the British cyclists who had died in the Great War.

In 1915 the Midlothian Advertiser wrote: ‘We are told that this is the war that is to stop all wars, but it is safe to say that in all future wars the cycle and motorcycle will play an even bigger part that they are playing today.’[22] The newspaper was wrong about bicycles. In 1919, the Army Cyclist Corps was disbanded and by 1920 cyclist units in the British Army had ceased to exist. Thus there were no cycle units in the Second World War that ensued due to the ill-fated survival of one of Germany’s First World War cyclist dispatch riders by the name of Adolf Hitler.

Although no cycle units existed in the Second World War many who had been active members of Scottish cycling clubs fought and lost their lives. In May 1939 sixteen-year-old Stanley Marr, a member of the local Clarion Cycling Club competed in the club’s 25 Mile race and won the trophy for best novice, covering the distance in 1 hr. 14 mins. 11 secs. On the outbreak of war he joined the RAF Volunteer Reserve and trained as an air gunner. In June 1942 he flew as part of five man crew in a Wellington aircraft on a night mission to bomb Essen. Over Holland the plane was shot down by a German fighter and all crew members died. Marr’s body was washed up a week later and he was buried in Bergen General Cemetery in Holland.

Before the war John Queen was captain of the Camelon Cycling Club near Falkirk and also president of the Falkirk branch of the Young Communist League. He was conscripted into the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders in 1940 having just turned twenty. A few weeks after the D-day landings in June 1944 he was killed and buried in France. Albert Watson raced with the Cyclist’s Touring Club in Edinburgh and broke a number of records on both bicycle and tricycle, and also was well-known as a cycling journalist. Shortly after the outbreak of war he volunteered for service in the RAF and died in Canada in 1943 while training as a pilot. Funds and volunteer work created a hut in the Tweed valley for the use of cyclists in his memory and the Albert Watson Memorial Hut providing year round snug accommodation was opened in June 1947.

Cyclists had a role as part of the Civil Defence services. Within a week of the war beginning Bellshill Clarion Cycling Club members offered themselves to the Air Raid Precautions (ARP) service as dispatch riders.’[23] As well as members of cycle clubs not involved in active service, young boys of sixteen and girls of eighteen were recruited to deliver information from the site of bombing incidents back to the ARP headquarters. A few civilian cyclists were injured or killed in Scotland as a result of accidents due to the blackout or from bombing. In Dundee a block of flats was hit by a bomb and at that moment one of the residents was cycling up to his front door and was killed instantly.

NEXT SECTION - OCCUPATIONS