I’ve been researching the story of one of my grandmother’s brothers, William Esau Willmott, known in the family as Billy. He was born in 1890 in Kennington, south London. At the age of 18 years and three months he joined the Welsh Regiment as a regular soldier. He was a small man— only 5 feet 4½ inches tall, weighing 8 stone 8 lb — and slightly knock-kneed, the result of childhood rickets.
Service in Egypt and India
After a short settling-in period at Cardiff depot, Billy was posted to the 1st Battalion. Within a year he was on active service in Egypt, spending two years based in Cairo. At the end of March 1914 the battalion moved to Chakrata, India, with the Dehra Dun Brigade of the Meerut Division. When war was declared in August that year the 1st Battalion was ordered home to England as soon as it could be relieved by the reserve 3rd Battalion. On the sea voyage back aboard the SS Nevasa, Billy was diagnosed with gonorrhoea and spent 27 days in hospital treatment.
His early army record was far from spotless. He faced countless minor charges: disobedience, gambling, untidy dress at CO’s inspection, breaking out of billet after tattoo roll-call, selling clothing, and even putting a dirty rifle back into the barrack-room gun rack. Yet he was always described as clean and sober—simply a lively, disruptive character who was difficult to manage.
Transfer to the Western Front
Billy was mobilised for overseas service on 28 April 1915 when his regiment embarked on the troopship Seriol from Southampton docks bound for Le Havre. On 2 May he joined the 2nd Battalion, which was already heavily engaged in the Second Battle of Ypres as part of the 3rd Brigade, 1st Division. That battle marked the first mass use of chlorine gas by the Germans on the Western Front and the debut of their flamethrowers.
His next major action came at the Battle of Loos in late September 1915. The British and French were attempting to break through the German defences in Artois and Champagne, and it was the first time British forces used poison gas in France. On the very first day of the assault, 25 September, Billy suffered a serious injury to his right hand at Vermelles. The wound could not be treated at the field hospital, so he was evacuated to St David’s Military Hospital in Wales on 27 September. He remained on rest leave until early November, when he was posted to depot duties with the 3rd Battalion.
If Billy had hoped that his hand injury would keep him out of further action on the Western Front, he was in for a rude shock—his war was far from over. On 17 March 1916 he was posted back to France and rejoined the remains of the 2nd Battalion on 4 April. Although the 1/6th (Territorial) Battalion of the Welsh Regiment became the pioneer battalion of the 1st Division on 15 May, Billy’s unit was attached to the 3rd Brigade Machine Gun Company just two weeks later, on 28 May. During his time at the Cardiff depot he had been trained on the Lewis gun.
Life as a machine gunner was exceptionally hazardous. The teams were placed in exposed positions to maintain a clear field of fire, often with their heads above the parapet. They knew they were operating one of the most lethal weapons on the battlefield and lived with the constant knowledge that they were taking many lives. The attrition rate in the machine-gun units was appalling—more than one in three gunners were killed in action during the war.
Billy went on to take part in the Somme campaign, where the Welsh Regiment was involved in many of the major offensives. He also fought in the Battle of Ypres and the Second Battle of Passchendaele. In the final year of the war his regiment saw action in the Battle of Estaires, the Battle of Hazebrouck, the Battle of Béthune, the Battle of Drocourt–Quéant, the Battle of Épehy, the Battle of the St Quentin Canal, the Battle of Beaurevoir, the Battle of the Selle, and the Battle of the Sambre.
AWOL and Court Marshalled
At the end of the war the regiment was based at Fresnoy-le-Grand, south-west of Bohain in Picardy. Although relieved to have survived, the long-service regulars found it frustrating to watch newer drafts being shipped home while they remained in France. Then, unexpectedly, on 12 February 1919 Billy absconded without permission. He returned on 26 February, was court-martialled, found guilty, and on 9 March sentenced to 28 days’ confinement in Field Prison No. 2 at Rouen in Normandy. After completing his sentence he was transferred on 15 June to Section B of the Army Reserve for demobilisation.
Eventual return to London
Back in Blighty he found work at Wright’s Coal Tar Soap factory in Southwark Street. In April 1921 he was recalled by the army under the government’s emergency powers during the threatened national strike by the transport workers’ union. The unions called the strike off after just three days, but Billy completed the full 90-day call-up. He then joined the London Regiment, 1st Surrey Rifles, on a four-year regular engagement and was promoted to sergeant in July 1921, shortly after being attested and posted.
The human cost of the war was staggering, yet Billy was one of the lucky ones who came through alive after serving with a regiment that had fought in so many of the war’s bloodiest battles. The conflict left lasting scars on countless men in the form of severe shell shock—what we now recognise as post-traumatic stress disorder. Official army records show that around 80,000 men (roughly 2 % of those who saw active service) were treated for shell shock during the war years, accounting for a high proportion of disability discharges. More recent research suggests the true figure among front-line troops was far higher—closer to 20 %.
Whether Billy himself was affected by shell shock we will never know for certain, but given the prolonged intensity of his regiment’s fighting and his unexplained absence without leave right at the end of the war, it seems highly likely. Rather than court-martialling him, I think I would have given the man a medal.