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Person Details
01 Jan 1895
Sneinton Nottingham
He was the son of Tom and Alice Bakewell. In 1911 they lived at 215a Ilkeston Road and later at 22 Bute Avenue Lenton Sands (both Nottingham).
In 1911 he was an office boy in a shipping office.
01 Jul 1916
21
772101 - CWGC Website
266227
Private
1/7th Bn Sherwood Foresters (Notts & Derby Regiment)
He died on 1 July 1916; his body was not recovered for burial and he is commemorated on the Thiepval Memorial Pier and Face 10 C 10 D and 11. His rank is given as lance-corporal on the memorial.
Frank Bakewell described spending his 21st birthday, 1st January 1916, on a French troop train in a letter home, excerpts from which were published on 14th January 1916. “ON A TROOP TRAIN THROUGH FRANCE. “Nottm. Soldier's Chatty Description of the Journey. “FROM WINTER TO “SUMMER.” “An entertaining description of a New Year journey by British soldiers on a troop train through France is given in a letter which Mr. T. Bakewell, of 22, Bute-avenue, Lenton Sands, Nottingham, has received from his son, Lance-Corporal F. Bakewell. “On New Year's Eve they had a splendid concert in one of the huts – “free gratis, and for nothing, with cigarettes thrown in,” and with three-quarters of an hour's extension so that they might see the performance right through. On the following morning [1st January 1916] they were up at half-past five. “Fancy turning out at that time in the morning on one's birthday – and coming of age at that too!” says Lance-Corporal Bakewell. After breakfast they marched to the station and entrained –– “not in cattle-trucks this time, but in third-class carriages, and only six men and their tackle in each carriage. I was most surprised to find someone in the uniform of a Canadian Scot, with kilt and everything, staring at me as if he knew me; and after shaking hands I found he was Jack Bradley, [1] son of Mr. Bradley, of Denman-street. He was quite well and in the best of spirits.” “Old-world Villages. “On their journey they passed “several quaint, old-world villages of one street and a cafe, and their funny inhabitants stood waving handkerchiefs, aprons, anything they could get hold of, and calling ' Bon jour' to their heart's content.” “When dinner-time came they obtained hot water from an engine that stopped close by, and with the aid of three bits of candle boiled a tin of meat and vegetables and made a good meal. A nap filled up the time before tea, and about eight o'clock they stopped at a station where French nurses dispensed coffee, sticks of toffee, and bread. “About six o'clock on the following morning they were awakened and rudely turned out, bag and baggage, on to a murky and miserable railway platform to find that an axle of their carriage was red-hot, and a fresh carriage had to be found for them. “Of course, everyone else in the train laughed at us, but 'he who laughs last laughs best,' they say; and so it was on our case. When the new carriage came on the scene it was a second-class, fitted up with cushions and a gas light (before, we had to use oil-lamps).” “At one place they stopped at they saw some German prisoners “unhappily caged up in trucks on a siding.” Crowds of people were in the station, and many were the biscuits they obtained as souvenirs. “Just Like Scarborough.” “On the following day they passed through rocks “as high as Nottingham Castle Rock” on either side of them, whilst busy quarries were “all over the place”; and farther on they saw French women washing clothes in a stream. “Lance-Corporal Bakewell goes into ecstasies about their joy when they neared the coast “and began really to feel the sun's best. We all felt just like one does in spring – glad and easy of mind. The windows of the train were all filled up with heads; the footboards were also used; and even the roofs of the carriages were fixed upon a suitable place to get into the sun's heat.” “The march from the station on reaching the coast to the tents at their destination was one to be remembered. Their last march had been in cold, damp weather, but now it was hot and dry, with clouds of dust blowing into their faces and parching their mouths as on a summer day in England, whilst on the following day they bathed in the sea from a rocky shore – “just like Scarborough.” [1] Pte. John (Jack) Bradley, 13th Canadian Infantry Battalion, was buried during heavy shelling on 13th June 1916 and badly shell-shocked. Treated in a number of hospitals and convalescent homes, he was medically downgraded, never fully recovering. He was the son of Charles Bradley, of 94 Denman Street, Radford, Nottingham; husband of Louisa Bradley, of 46 Woodward Street, Trent Bridge, Nottingham Letter published14th January 1916 in the Nottingham Daily Express and is courtesy of Jim Grundy and his facebook pages Small Town Great War Hucknall 1914-1918
Remembered on