The important Great War M.C. group of four awarded to Lieutenant T. R. Conning, 2nd Battalion, Royal Welch Fusiliers, a ‘happy-go-lucky’ subaltern of ‘natural jollity’ who was one of ‘the most popular officers with the men of the Battalion’ - and who appears in much of the literature that emerged from the ranks of his regiment, not least Dunn’s The War the Infantry Knew and Siegfried Sassoon’s Memoirs of an Infantry Officer: a close friend of Sassoon’s, news of his death in action in May 1917 is also said to have been among the catalysts that prompted the war poet to make public his famous anti-war statement - ‘Finished with the War: A Soldier’s Declaration’ Military Cross, G.V.R., unnamed as issued, with Royal Mint case; 1914-15 Star (2 Lieut. T. R. Conning, R.W. Fus.); British War and Victory Medals (Lieut. T. R. Conning); Memorial Plaque 1914-18 (Thomas Rothesay Conning), remnants of adhesive to reverses, nearly extremely fine (5) £5,000-£6,000 --- Provenance: Dix Noonan Webb, March 2015 (subsequently reunited with Aucott’s medals). M.C. London Gazette 1 January 1917: ‘For distinguished service in the Field.’ Thomas Rothesay Conning was born in London in January 1892, the son of a commercial clerk. His father having died towards the end of the same decade, Thomas’s mother Elizabeth married Edwin Aucott, who ran the St. James’s Tavern on the corner of Denman Street and Shaftesbury Avenue and, following his death in 1913, Alphonse “Papa” De Hem, a retired Dutch sea captain who ran “The Macclesfield”, a popular pub and oyster bar just off Shaftesbury Street - which establishment continues to flourish to this day as the “De Hems” bar and restaurant. In his Memoirs of an Infantry Officer, in which Conning appears under the pseudonym ‘Dunning’, Sassoon refers to the former speaking about ‘the eccentric old ladies who lived in mother’s boarding house.’ Thomas, who attended Archbishop Tenison’s Grammar School, was residing with his mother at the St. James’s Tavern in Denman Street when he attested for the 16th Battalion, London Regiment (The Queen’s Westminster Rifles) in September 1914. The Battalion went to France at the year’s end and he was advanced to Acting Corporal in February 1915. Royal Welch Fusiliers: wounded - second close call Commissioned Second Lieutenant in the Royal Welch Fusiliers in May 1915, Conning was posted to the 2nd Battalion that November, the commencement of a distinguished career that included appointments as Bombing Officer, Lewis Gun Officer and Acting Adjutant; a period, too, that witnessed his growing friendship with Siegfried Sassoon and many other stalwarts of the 2nd Royal Welch Fusiliers - thus a spate of references to him in related literature, not least Dunn’s The War the Infantry Knew, in which he is described as one of ‘the most popular officers with the men in the battalion.’ One of Conning’s first significant actions occurred in the Cambrai sector on 8 April 1916, when he was wounded in a trench raid - only the second occasion on which the battalion had employed the Bangalore torpedo. On 22 June 1916, the enemy exploded the Red Dragon Mine, causing 2/R.W.F. around 100 casualties, including over 50 killed. As recounted by Captain H. M. Blair in Dunn’s history, Conning was fortunate to survive: ‘About half an hour after midnight I began a round with my Sergeant-Major, Pattison. The trenches had been knocked about in places by shelling during the day. A perfect network of saps ran out for a considerable distance between deep mine-craters. In one of the saps I met Conning, the Bombing Officer. He told me he could not spare more than two-thirds of the complement of bombers, but I insisted on having the full number. I had an uncomfortable foreboding of impending trouble. I cannot say why, I was neither worried nor depressed, but the feeling grew as time went on. It was a lovely peaceful night. Perhaps it was the almost uncanny stillness, too quiet to be natural in that unpleasant part of the line. Anyhow, I was filled with a haunting unrest. I sent my Sergeant-Major to have boxes of bombs placed on the fire-steps and the pins pinched ready for use, boxes of reserve S.A.A. too were to be ready to hand. It was nearly 1.30 a.m. when my Sergeant-Major reported again. Conning had made up the complement of bombers; we all went for a last look round. Everything was quite in order, so we strolled towards the company dug-out to have a drink before turning in. A few yards from the dug-out somebody, Conning I think, looked at his watch; it was twenty minutes to two. He said he was dead-beat and, if I did not mind, he would prefer to turn in at once, so we postponed the drink. He and another, whose name I forget, went off in the direction of C Company. Conning's change of mind saved his life, at the time, and mine. After they left us I went back with Pattison to the far end of one of the saps and spoke to the sentry and Lance-Corporal Morris. There was stillness everywhere. I had just stepped off the fire-step into the sap - Pattison was about 5 yards from me - when I felt my feet lifted up beneath me and the trench walls seemed to move upwards. There was a terrific blast of air which blew my steel helmet Heaven knows where. I think that something must have struck me then on the head - it was said in hospital that my skull was fractured - anyhow, I remember nothing more until I woke to find myself buried up to the neck and quite unable to move hand or foot. I do not know how long I had been unconscious. I was told afterwards that there was a heavy bombardment of our trenches lasting nearly an hour after the explosion of the mine, but I was quite unaware of all that. I awoke to an appalling shindy going on, and gradually realized that heavy rifle and machine-gun fire was taking place and that bullets were whistling all round. Several men passed within a few feet of me. I saw them distinctly by the light of the flares. I remember hoping they would not trip over my head. The men were shouting to each other, but I was too dazed to appreciate that the language was German. When I heard a hunting-horn I was certain I was having the nightmare of my life-pegged down and unable to move, with a hailstorm of bullets all round, and men rushing about perilously near kicking my head. The firing died down, and I realised it was no nightmare but that I was very much awake ... ’ For his own part, Conning quickly rallied, collecting reinforcements from the support line and manning the crater’s edge until order - and the line - could be restored. Carnage on the Somme - Robert Graves wounded At High Wood on the Somme on 20 July 1916, Conning assumed command of ‘D’ Company amidst ‘a hopeless mix-up of bush fighting’. The Company suffered casualties from the onset - ‘small opposing parties, scrapping and bombing, pursuing and pursued all over the north-east of the wood.’ By nightfall, however, Conning had overseen the construction of a new trench, but with a determined enemy counter-attack the following day, 2/R.W.F. was compelled to withdraw to the southern edge of the wood - among the casualties was the poet Robert Graves, who commanded ‘B’ Company: ‘The German batteries were handing out heavy stuff, six-and eight-inch, and so much of it that we decided to move back fifty yards at a rush. As we did so, an eight-inch shell burst three paces behind me. I heard the explosion, and felt as though I had been punched rather hard between the shoulder-blades, but without any pain. I took the punch merely for...
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