William Ivor Grantham was born on 14th May 1898 at Cadogan Place, Chelsea,
London; his
birth registered in the district of Chelsea on 22nd June that year. His birth certificate notes that his father,
William Wilson Grantham, was a Barrister at Law living at 60 Cadogan Place, London.
He appears
on the 1901 census of England
and Wales
as a two year old living at 17
Cadogan Place, London. The household comprised William Wilson
Grantham (1861-1942), his wife Sybil Grantham (1877-1952) and their two
children: William Ivor and Myrtle Irene Grantham aged eight months. William Wilson, aged 35 and born in South Norwood, had married Sybil de la Rue, twelve years his
junior, on 17th July 1897. Also noted at 17 Cadogan Place are eight domestic
servants including a nurse and under nurse employed to look after the two
children.
He was
appointed to a commission as second lieutenant with the 6th (Cyclist)
Battalion, Royal Sussex Regiment on 25th October 1915 and seconded for duty with the 9th
Provisional Cyclists’ Company. Chailey
Parish Magazine first mentions him however, in January 1916, noting: Grantham, 2nd Lieutenant I, Royal Sussex
Cyclists’ Corps. The
following month it amends that information to: Grantham, 2nd Lieutenant W I, 9th Provisional Cyclist Company.
In March 1917, Ivor’s records state that he was Restored to Establishment, meaning that his period of secondment to
the 9th Provisional Cyclists’ Company came to an end and he returned to the 6th
Royal Sussex. In the same month Chailey
Parish Magazine noted that he was serving with the 15th Royal Sussex
Regiment. It seems likely, that the 15th
Royal Sussex Regiment is a mis-transcription of the 1/5th Royal Sussex to which
he was attached and which Chailey’s parish magazine correctly notes in July
1917.
It is unclear from his surviving records, exactly when Ivor Grantham
proceeded overseas. He was however, promoted
lieutenant on 1st July 1917. In his unpublished memoirs, written for his
niece, he recalls life on the Western Front:
“… a night operation in the front line in the Ypres
salient in the autumn of 1917, at the end of which he returned to Battalion
Headquarters located in dug-outs stretched along both sides of the Yser Canal. Wet through, and shivering from the cold he
decided to have a really stiff drink of rum before turning in, and knowing that
no other member of his Company’s Mess ever touched rum – nor did he usually –
he consumed the whole lot of that night’s ration for his fellow members. To reach his own dug-out to turn in for the
rest of that night, your uncle had to cross to the other side of the canal by a
narrow plank bridge. He remembers
starting to cross, sitting down on the plank half way over, and then noticing
that the sky above him and the water below appeared to be changing places. His next recollection was being told that the
Brigadier had wished to see him at 10
o’clock that morning, but had been pleased to excuse his attendance
on learning of the events of the previous night.”
He also remembers a night fatigue in which his platoon was engaged in
carrying supplies up to the front line at Ypres
through “indescribable mud pitted with shell-holes” along a duck-board track:
“Suddenly your uncle became conscious of an extraordinary feeling - ahead
of him there appeared to be an invisible barrier, which restricted movement in
a forward direction. Following the line
of least resistance, he found that he could move to the right, at right-angles
to the track. Although unable to account
for this feeling, your uncle decided to act upon it, and word was passed back:
“Move to the right in line”. The line
became extremely ragged, and much grumbling could be heard; but all did their
best until about fifty yards had been covered.
Then suddenly a salvo of shells exploded upon the duck-board track two
or three hundred yards ahead, just where the column would have been if they had
continued to move forward along the track.
Your uncle’s reputation for good luck immediately became almost
unbearable, as men began volunteering for tasks which it was known would be
under his direction ; and it was a distinct relief when a week or two later he
found himself knocked out by a stray piece of shell which penetrated a certain
part of his anatomy.”
According to his surviving service record, the “certain part of his
anatomy” was his right buttock and the shell wound was sufficiently deep for
him to be classified as “very severely wounded”. He was wounded on 4th October 1917 in the Ypres
salient which means that the photo at the top of this post, according to the caption, must have been taken on the 1st October. He was:
“… carried back to a First Aid Post by stretcher bearers, assisted by his
batman, the son of a Lewes picture-frame maker, who kindly wrote to your
grandparents [William Wilson and Sybil Grantham] with details of the
event. After a week at the Military Hospital at Rouen your uncle made the journey home, lying
on his face, on board a Hospital-ship which took thirty hours sailing down the
river and crossing the Channel to Southampton.”
Ivor embarked for England on 9th October and disembarked at Southampton
the following day. He was despatched to
The London Hospital at Whitechapel where he would remain for the next year.
While he was recuperating, a photo of Lieutenant Ivor Grantham and his
platoon, photographed three days before he was wounded, appeared in a local Sussex
newspaper. The caption noted that his
father had visited him in hospital in London
that week and found that he was making good progress.
Ivor Grantham spent the next eleven months in hospital, appearing before
various Medical Boards during that time, all of which regarded his recovery to a
state of A1 fitness, a long way off. In
August 1918, a note on his file states that the “Ministry of Labour requires
this officer’s services” but Ivor was still recuperating and on 25th September 1918 a
further Medical Board stated:
“That he
is suffering from the effects of a GSW Right Buttock [unclear] a [unclear]
[unclear] [unclear] wound with injury [unclear] external [unclear] [unclear]
[unclear] [unclear] Great sciatic nerve resulting in right [unclear] drop,
sensory loss and wasting of muscles of Right Leg.
“[Unclear]
a special treatment he has regained sensation [unclear] muscle power is slowly
returning.
“Wounds
have now completely healed [unclear] he is recommended for transfer to a
convalescent home where he can have electrical treatment for two months at the
end of which time he would [unclear] probably be fit for sedentary duty.”
Ivor Grantham takes up the story.
“[I was transferred] to a private Convalescent Home in Hove
run by a lady in her own home on the front.
Her “guests” – ten or twelve in number – were individually received by
the butler at the front door on their arrival, and were then solemnly announced
by rank and name to their hostess as she stood ready to receive them in the
drawing room.”
It was here in Hove that, sitting on the seafront close to the
convalescent home, dressed in civilian clothes and with his crutches on the
ground, Ivor Grantham was “handed a white feather by a lady with a handful of
such feathers” leaving him amused and speechless. (While he was in France he had also learned
from family members that a military escort had arrived at his family residence
in Balneath with a warrant for his arrest for failing to report for duty when
called up at the age of nineteen a few months earlier. The corporal and soldier accompanying him
were appropriately informed of Ivor Grantham’s current status).
On 27th January 1919,
Lieutenant Grantham assumed duties with the Ministry of Labour, remaining there
until he was disembodied at Crystal
Palace on 2nd August 1919. On his discharge certificate, he gave his
civil occupation as student and his address as Balneath Manor. He was medically categorised as C2.
He then appears to have returned to complete his studies at Cambridge. A letter written from his tutor at Trinity College and received by the Kitchener Hospital in Brighton
on 5th December 1919 states:
“I hereby certify that Lt W I Grantham, an under graduate of this
college, at present in residency, is detained in Cambridge until 10th December by reason of
his academic work. He will have kept his
time on that date and will be free to leave.”
In later life, Ivor married Helen Murray Walker (May 1933) and, after she
died, married Anne Ridgeway (October 1973).
There was no issue from either marriage.
As Chailey resident Mick Pateman remembers, the Grantham family was
aristocratic, “property owners like the Blencowes and the Slessors.” William Wilson Grantham was Lord of the Manor
of Balneath and when he died in 1942, his son Ivor inherited the title. His entry in Burke’s Peerage (circa 1952),
under the title, “Grantham of Chailey”, reads as follows:
“William Ivor Grantham OBE, of Buckle’s Wood, Chailey, Sussex, Lord of
the Manors of Camois Court and Balneath, JP (1949) Sussex, Barrister-at-Law,
Inner Temple (1922), Royal Sussex Regt (TF) 1915-19, in legal branch RAF
1931-46, W/Cmdr, Deputy Judge Advocate-Gen, Middle East, Iraq and Aden,
1934-36, served in World Wars I and II, O.st.J; b 14 May 1898, educ Harrow and Trin Coll Camb (MA LLB)
m. 27 May 1933, Helen, dau of Murray Walker of The Wilderness, Woodbridge,
Suffolk.”
William Ivor Grantham died in Lewes in November 1986 aged 88. His title of Lord of The Manor passed to his
niece. An obituary published at the time
paid tribute to, amongst other things, his work as a Braille transcriber for
the National Students’ Library; his efforts in establishing the Arthritis and
Rheumatism Council in Lewes, and his abiding interest in the Anglican church. His father, William Wilson Grantham, also served
his King and Country during the First World War.
