Brough Inferior

'Monday, 13th May 1935. It was a fine and calm early morning. By mid-morning the sun had warmed the heath to produce broken cumulus cloud accompanied by a moderate east to north-east breeze blowing in the clear air. Pat Knowles remembered, "he came across to my house earlier than usual. It was one of those bright, still, early spring mornings, and the bird-song, clear and vibrant in the still air, had awakened him soon after five, so, seeing the smoke from my fire he came across. "Whilst I was getting breakfast the postman came. Shaw opened his mail and said that [Henry] Williamson wanted to see him. Over breakfast we discussed his letter. Shaw felt that it would be as well to let him come as soon as possible as he might not have the time to spare later. I said why not the next day? He thought it a good idea, and so it was decided […]; he would go down later and send off a telegram telling him to come for lunch the following day… "After breakfast Shaw brought out the Brough and I heard him running it up. I guess that he was cleaning and polishing and servicing it. […] I was working in the garden and heard him leave and heard the sound of the Brough's engine all the way to Bovington."' ‘At precisely 11.25 a.m. a telegram was dictated and the Post Office assistant wrote it out and sent it to Henry Williamson:

'From the Post Office Lawrence walked the short distance back across the road to the Red Garage. Walt Pitman, the pump attendant, asked him if he needed any fuel; Lawrence replied, “I'm alright, thanks,” then he climbed on to his Brough...’

T.E. never made it home. On his return, he slammed on the brakes attempting an emergency stop, swerving to avoid two young cyclists, Albert Hargreaves and Frank Fletcher. He was thrown into the air --head first, wearing no helmet-- and landed just beyond his motorbike.

Images, top to bottom: Portrait by Reginald Sims at the White Cottage, Hornsea, February 1935; The telegram sent to Henry Williamson; Photograph by Bill Knowles of T.E. at Clouds Hill on 'George VII', GW2275 in summer 1934 (possibly the only image of him on this ill-fated bike).

The above paragraphs are an abridged excerpt from Chapter 12, 'On the 13th Day of May' of The Last Days of T.E. Lawrence: A Leaf in the Wind, Paul Marriott and Yvonne Argent, 2002, pp. 102-3.

Formally entitled, ‘Apology for the work, and objection to “secondary” criticism’, here are the first lines of 21-year-old T.E.’s undergraduate dissertation, submitted in July 1910: ‘The influence of the Crusades on European military architecture — to the end of the XIIth Century.’* // fol. iii r, Oxford, Jesus College MS. 181.

Just a (boring!) note to say I have not abandoned this place after only three months! Work is very busy at the moment. But, in Lawrencian-related news, I’ve also been making quiet progress with my research project - which I mention briefly in the pinned post. It’s not only evolving into something *entirely* different from my original topic(s), but it now has scope to be more creatively written and less academically dry —which is actually a relief! Nonetheless, it will still remain truthful to T.E., accurate, and hopefully somewhat original.

Anyway, for all ~10 of you Shawheads who follow me (thank you, you are a blessing), I’m still here, and will find something to ramble on about in pointless detail again soon.

Wanting to include some sort of image with this post, I shall leave the last words to T.E. himself, as scrawled humbly and charmingly in the margin of the opening lines of his thesis, above: “Apology for dullness. Don’t criticise‽”

οὐ φροντὶς, Broughie 🐪

“Tonsils : yes, rotten things. I haven’t any. Lost them, like you.”

From a letter to Ronald Storrs. Written whilst at Cranwell, June 1st, 1926. // Orientations, Ronald Storrs, 1945. p. 444.

The photograph is of 10-year-old T.E. during his time at the City of Oxford High School for Boys. // This copy is from Lawrence of Arabia, Philip Knightley, 1977. p. 11.

Captioned: ‘Fl/Lt D.F. Anderson, Aircraftsman T.E. Shaw (Col. Lawrence). In "Wapiti" at Lahore after flying from Risalpur. Circa 1928.’ // RAF Museum.

D.F. Anderson [left in photo] was David Forgham Anderson, who, during the Kabul Airlift operations, had been tasked with evacuating British and European diplomatic staff and their families between 23rd December 1928 and 25th February 1929. It was also around this time that T.E.’s “anonymity” finally fell away after several months of rumour and the international press concocting deliberately suspicious misrepresentations of his presence and activities in the North-Western Frontier (a whole other story in itself: for ease & quickness a small summary is on pp. 631-636 of Garnett’s ‘Letters…’).

After this, a dismayed T.E. was soon flown from Miranshah to Lahore on January 8th 1929; to Karachi the next day, and by the 12th was on board S.S. Rajputana, heading home.

Though the addition of ‘circa’ must be accepted as rather loose in its accuracy, if the info on the caption is to be believed, then this grainy image is not linked to T.E.’s own ‘evacuation’ but of a time before. It would indeed suggest he visited Lahore at least on more than one occasion prior to it being a stopover en route back to England. I do wonder what adventures this flying excursion brought for the two men that day? (I imagine nothing to do with this article, some of which is so bizarre that it merits no more air-time than me sharing the link.)

Labelled as: ‘Lawrence or Shaw taken with officers at Thal fort, Waziristan, whom he was visiting as friends.’ // Jeremy Wilson Archive on X

In any case, contrary to the letters which suggested his days spent in Miranshah were restricted and quiet, and (as was declared to E.M. Forster) “an idyllic two and a half months,” T.E. most definitely took opportunities to visit friends/fellow officers, which the above photo suggests.

“We are not allowed beyond the barbed wire by day, or outside the fort walls by night. So the only temptations of Miranshah are boredom and idleness. I hope to escape the first and enjoy the second…”

The Letters of T.E. Lawrence. No. 362, p.614.

A photograph of T.E. Lawrence, c.1918, which seems --from my sources anyway-- to be a lesser-seen companion image to the one of him seated in front of the same backdrop. // This sepia-toned version is the back cover to Lawrence of Arabia & Middle East Air Power, Cross and Cockade International, 2016.

Of particular interest in this photo (and also the second one, below) is the petite gold jambiya, attached to Lawrence’s belt. This was apparently T.E.’s most treasured dagger, its commission was even overseen by King Hussein himself. Furthermore, it was the replacement for a more uncomfortable and larger silver gilt version which had been presented to him by Sherif Nasir, in itself as a replacement for an even earlier weapon—a gift from the Emir Abdullah—which Lawrence had given to a Howeitat chief!

T.E. Lawrence instructing a Stokes mortar class, Akaba, 1917. The soldier, far left, is LCpl. W.H. Brook, 25th Battalion, Royal Welsh Fusiliers. // This particular copy is from T.E. Lawrence and the Arab Revolt. An Illustrated Guide. Joseph Berton, 2011. p. 141. There is the same (or possibly the original) copy at the IWM.

95 years ago today, on December 30th 1929, T.E. wrote to Walter Herbert Brook whilst stationed at Mount Batten. He writes so charmingly and playfully about Brooks' newborn son; as always, showing such an endearing fondness for children, or certainly the children of those he knows personally. The whole letter was far too interesting to abridge, so here it is in its entirety, plus some extras which I couldn't help but include:

Dear Brook* Stokes that was. It is rather fun hearing from you. I forget what I wrote exactly in Revolt: I hope it wasn’t rude. Some people said I was rude to everyone. You didn't deserve it, if so, for you and Yells did a very good job of work there with us. Probably there is a lot more of rude remarks about you in the bigger book, Seven Pillars of Wisdom: but that, thank God, you'll probably never see. I haven't copies of either the little book or the big book. That's what I think about them....

On the 19th December, 1911, T.E. Lawrence travelled to Biredjik with his Consular dragoman (interpreter/guide), Tagir, and cook Haj Wahid, to try to negotiate the purchase of a share of the Kala’at (Acropolis Mound) of Carchemish, where he was excavating.

Writing to his mother from Baron’s Hotel on Dec. 28, T.E. describes a most thrilling (probably a bit scary) incident which occurred Christmas morning, as they were heading back to Aleppo:

"I'm perfectly happy in it, on the ordinary terms: and if the other fellows knew that I used to know you, my character would be ruined."

From a series of supplication letters by T.E. Shaw to Viscount Trenchard; this one dated 20-11-26, just prior to his leaving for India in December. // Photo by @broughinferior. RAF Museum.

Tumblr ended up being an unintentional online gateway into some T.E. threads that I hadn’t yet followed, so I decided to make an account here for myself to see what the fuss was all about.

Here, T.E. Shaw is photographed on board the troopship H.M.T. Derbyshire in January 1927, on his way to the posting in India. The journey was, apparently, quite unpleasant, as the abridged excerpt below attests.

Two photographs which include T.E. Lawrence, now known as Aircraftman T.E. Shaw. In the first image, L-R: Cpl Stone, AC1 Shaw, Pte Haytor, and Cpl Easton. T.E. and Haytor have switched places in the second image.

"I give him permission to come in [to the wireless cabin] and do all these translations there, because in the hut where he was it was too much noise for him."

From an oral recording of J.W. Easton. July 2nd, 1975 // IWM.

When T.E. arrived at Miranshah in May 1928, he was primarily appointed as a clerk, but spent most of the time in the wireless operator's hut, working on his translation of Homer's Odyssey. He became friendly with the station operator himself, Jack Easton, whose collection these photos belonged to.