Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

A Great War 1916 ‘French theatre’ M.M. group of four awarded to Sergeant H. Short, East Yorkshire Regiment, later Lieutenant and O.C. No. 8 (Wootton) Platoon, Bedfordshire Home Guard

Military Medal, G.V.R. (7415 Sjt: H. Short. 1/E. Yorks: R.); 1914 Star, with clasp (7415 Pte. H. Short. 1/E. York: R.); British War and Victory Medals (7415 Sjt. H. Short. E. York. R.) lightly polished, nearly very fine or better (4) £340-380

M.M. London Gazette 3 June 1916.

Henry Emil Short ‘of Manor Road, Wootton, a holder of the Military Medal... was native of Chesterfield and served for 17 years with the East Yorkshire Regiment, with whom he saw considerable service with the original BEF in France and rose to the rank of RMS [sic]. Later with other members of his family, he owned and worked a small coal mine.

On coming to Bedfordshire he was employed as a foreman on the County Council roadways. Following Dunkirk he was largely responsible for the formation locally of the Home Guard, in which he held a commission as Lieutenant.’ (newspaper cutting included with the lot refers)

During the Second War Short commanded No. 8 (Wootton) Platoon, Bedfordshire Home Guard, and the following poem was written as a tribute to him:

‘Though “Short”, he’s long and broad and strong
A very Hercules.
With apple cheeks and twinkling eyes
That call forth maiden’s prayers and signs.
When he leads his Platoon
The ribbons on his manly chest
Include the M.M. with the rest
A tribute to his valour.
A leader of men is he
And Wootton Volunteers agree
That Harry can’t be bettered.
And if it be that Jerry comes
Harry will say “We welcome Huns,
Come right in, we’re all ready,
We’ve S.I.P.’s and L.M.G.’s
But don’t go down upon your knees
And ‘Kamerad’ exclaim.
I’ve met you once before, you Boche,
And now’s the last time, for by gosh
You’ll get the works right now.
You spawn of Evil, mark you well
This day will echo your death-knell
Your bestial ways proclaim your doom
In your foul hearts there is no room
For Pity, Mercy, Love.
And - that our children may employ
The life God meant them to enjoy -
In arts of peace not war,
We have a duty, I would stress,
Extermination, nothing less.
Let none escape, shall be our cry,
But smite them, smite them, hip and thigh
Until the whole foul brood is gone
So - UP AND AT ‘EM, BOYS
COME ON,”

Short died aged 78 at Clapham Hospital, and was buried at Wootton Churchyard.

Sold with newspaper cutting and typed poem.