A Collection of Awards to Chaplains formed by Philip Mussell

A Great War M.C. group of five awarded to Chaplain to the Forces the Reverend W. Drury, Army Chaplains’ Department

Military Cross, G.V.R., unnamed as issued; Queen’s South Africa 1899-1902, 3 clasps, Cape Colony, Transvaal, South Africa 1902 (Rev: W. Drury. C. to F.); 1914 Star, with later clasp (Rev: W. Drury. A.C.D.); British War and Victory Medals, with M.I.D. oak leaves (Rev. W. Drury.), edge bruising to QSA, otherwise very fine (5) £1600-2000

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, A Collection of Awards to Chaplains formed by Philip Mussell.

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M.C. London Gazette 23 June 1915.

William Drury was born in Burton, Staffordshire on 19 June 1876, the son of William Frederick Drury, Vicar of Holy Trinity, Burton, and was baptised by his father on 12 July 1876. Educated at Christ’s Hospital and Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, he subsequently attended Ridley Hall Theological College, Cambridge, and was ordained a Deacon in 1899. Serving as the Curate of St. Thomas’s, Birmingham, 1899-1901, he was ordained a Priest at Worcester in 1900. During 1901-04 he was employed as an Acting Chaplain to the Forces in South Africa. He was then posted as Chaplain to the Forces at Woolwich, 1905-08; Singapore, 1908-11; Aldershot, 1912-13; and Crownhill, 1913-14. Following the outbreak of the Great War, he served with the British Expeditionary Force 1914-17, being Assistant to the Principal Chaplain B.E.F., 1914-15 and Deputy Chaplain General, 1916-18. For his wartime services he was thrice Mentioned in Despatches (London Gazettes 22 June 1915, 4 January 1917, and 15 May 1917) and was awarded the Military Cross. A letter home, written in the first months of the War, gives the following account:

‘17th Field Ambulance,
Sunday, 25th October 1914.

Dearest Mother,
This is a Sunday, and after ten days or so (for we cannot reckon time at all, the moves are so numerous) of battle, we are in reserve again for a rest. Our infantry have been worn out in the trenches. We are a few miles behind the front line, living in a farmhouse and sleeping five or six officers in a room. We still hear the cannonade all day, and the motor convoys of wounded still go past the door to the ambulance train close to us. The infantry of the brigade are some distance off, and as we were moved here yesterday I have not found them. But the elder Talbot, son of the Bishop of Winchester, arrived at this ambulance during the week, and seemed anxious to get to his old regiment (the Rifles), in which he was a subaltern (he is now a parson). I let him go on there, and he will look after the brigade today.
During the week we have been in the neighbourhood of a large town, and have moved about to different parts of it, and to the country outside, to avoid the evening’s shells. Each evening our station (a school or any sort of hall) has been full of horribly smashed up men, some of whom we have had to keep more than a day, before we got them away in the motor ambulances. I have to scratch out a good deal of what I write myself, as my letters are censored by myself!
Some of the wounds are very terrible, but the remainder of the wounded are in great spirits, and come in very excited. They (the men) make themselves quite safe in their trenches, and only desire to remain in them. The casualties occur during movement, and to messengers.
I am well myself, but dislike the uncertainty of how long this is going to last, and how much time will be wasted. I was out collecting wounded at night (all the wounded have to be collected at night) with a young doctor up near the trenches, when a fierce battle broke out. We had to retire very rapidly to the cover of the town, with a few stray bullets whistling round us. On the way back we picked up a shot man in the street. We were only just back in time, as the ground we had been on was being shelled.
Occasionally we get an odd half dozen shrapnel shells around the ambulance. Yesterday some were sent over us into the town, falling in the streets and killing several civilians. We were safe from these in a strongly built house.
My last burial ground was a dangerous place, our troops having had to fall back on it. I had to watch the timing when I could go out with my cartload of dead, and get it done quickly. I had a service for the ambulance this morning, and gave them . . . . . .
I sleep very warmly and comfortably in my own blankets, but usually on a mattress on the floor.  If there is a bed available, it is always too short, but the kind folks we live amongst produce mattresses. They are very kind here, and we drink an awful lot of wine.
By the way, collecting the wounded is no part of my necessary duties, and I do not go out usually. The ambulance has no casualties as yet, and should have none barring accidents. We have moved our quarters almost daily lately, but have had no really long marches. My horse does well and will serve, but he is not a stylish animal at all. I have a saddle bag now in which I can carry my soap, towel and all the small things I need. With a days food and a blanket on the saddle as well, I am fairly independent if need be, but with the ambulance working I cannot find a minute to leave it.
I have just counted 35 cannon shots in a minute this Sunday afternoon, and an aeroplane is humming overhead. They dropped several bombs this week in the town. The countryside is full of refugee people, who do not look so miserable as you would expect, but salute us all very kindly. The town is empty of all but the poorest.
The weather, I am thankful to say, is absolutely perfect I do not fear the winter much as we shall have warm quarters provided, and we officers and ambulance people will be safe in houses. I am reading nothing just at present, though am well provided for. One gets to know one’s few possessions remarkably well under the circumstances.
I cannot write about your affairs at present. I got a card this morning with good news of you. You are doing well.
Best love
WD.’

Appointed Chaplain to the Royal Hospital, Chelsea, 1918-23, Drury subsequently served as Chaplain at Shorncliffe, 1923-25. After attachment to the Office of the Diocese of Cantabury, 1925-26, he was appointed Curate of Storrington, 1926-27, after which he was appointed Rector of Binstead in the Diocese of Chichester. He died at Binstead Rectory on 24 October 1943.

Sold together with a photographic image of the recipient.