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Private Christopher George Glidle

3/9655 1st Battalion Northamptonshire Regiment

Son of Mr Eli & Mrs Avice Glidle

Aged 19 years

Died 23rd October 1914

Commemorated at Cement House Cemetery, Langemarck
Grave VIIA. E.1.

H W Glidle is thought to be the man standing
- the other brother is unidentified

Photo courtesy of Clive Wood
Born and enlisted at Rushden. One of three brothers in the same regiment.
The Rushden Echo Friday 13 November 1914, transcribed by Nicky Bates

Long Silence of a Rushden Soldier - Is He Missing?

It is now practically 10 weeks since news came from Private Chris. Glidle (Rushden), who is at the front. Called up under rather singular circumstance, he was soon in action. Private Glidle is in the Northants Special Reserves, and had just arrived home from camp as the war broke out. He had to return almost immediately to headquarters. Numerous unofficial reports that Private Glidle has been wounded and even killed have been circulated, but we are pleased to say that nothing official has been received by his parents. On the last postcard he sent home he says: "I suppose you think we are having a rough time, but we are not. I do not work as hard as I did before." We trust that further news of a satisfactory character may soon arrive.

Evening Telegraph, Friday, 20th November 1914, transcribed by John Collins.

Rushden Private Dies of Wounds

Mrs. C. Glidle, of 67, Little-street, Rushden, received the sad news on Thursday from the War Office notifying her of the death of her son, Pte. C. George Glidle, of the Northants Regiment, which occurred on the 23rd October. He died of wounds received at the front. Pte. Glidle was only 19 years of age. Mrs. Glidle has another son, Pte. Wm. Glidle, serving in the colours, who is in the Territorials.

The Rushden Echo, 20th November 1914, transcribed by Jim Hollis.

Rushden Man Safe - News of Pte. Chris Glidle

Last week a letter reached Rushden, in which appeared the following sentence :- “Chris Glidle is dead, as he was killed at my side in a night attack. He was shot under the heart.” We reported in our last issue that this was not confirmed. We are now able to say that Pte. Glidle, of Rushden, who is in the 1st Northants Regt., answered – according to the War Office – to the roll on Nov. 7th. as far as the War Office know, he is still serving with his corps.

Chris GlidleRushden Argus, 27th November 1914, transcribed by Kay Collins

Died of Wounds - “Steelback” Succumbs at the Front

Mrs. Glidle, of 67 Little-street, Rushden, received the sad news on Thursday from the War Office notifying her of the death of her son, Pte. C George Glidle, of the Northants Regiment, which occurred on the 23rd October. He died of wounds received at the front. Pte. Glidle was only 19 years of age. Mrs. Glidle has another son, Pte. Wm. Glidle, serving the colours, who is in the Territorials.

The Rushden Echo, 27th November 1914, transcribed by Jim Hollis.

King and Queen’s Sympathy - Rushden Soldier Killed - Some Pathetic Incidents - A General Favourite

In the service of his country, Private Christopher George Glidle, of Little-street, Rushden, was officially reported last Friday to be killed. The late soldier was highly esteemed by his many acquaintances. He used to work for Mr. Allebone up to the time he left for camp before the outbreak of the war.

Some pathetic incidents were revealed to us this week with reference to his farewell from home. It will be remembered that Private Glidle was at home for only a short time before going to the front. As he was about to leave, his mother said to him, “Something tells me I shall never see you again.” He told her to cheer up and not cry.

“When I come home decorated with medals,” he said, “you will clap your hands and think what a noble son you have got.” He slipped a ring bearing the regimental badge on her finger at the same time.

In his last letter (written from Weymouth) Private Glidle said : “I hope you are all in the best of health; I am in the ‘pink’ at present. You must not write any more until I let you know where I am. We are told to get ready for France at once. I have all my kit ready for foreign service. ‘Ploughy’ and I are together and are as happy as the King. We are sure to get to a medal. The war is nearly done – the Russians will finish it in a week and we shall get there for the end of it.”

Referring to a photograph which he had had taken of himself (a copy of which appears in this week’s “Rushden Echo”) he said: “I think my photos will come out all right. If not, the photographer has promised to send me some ‘fags’ for the money.

“Good-bye for the present. We shall meet again, so don’t worry – I have to go at once.”

Since the announcement of the death of Private Glidle, the lady with whom he stayed whilst at Weymouth has sent the following very sympathetic letter to Mrs. Glidle:- “My dear Mrs. Glidle, - I have just got your sad letter and no one is more sorry than both my husband and I to hear of your son’s death. Of the 25 that have been billeted with me your dear boy was the best. I took to him from the first as he was always so kind. Many times when he has seen me crying over my boy he would put his arms round me and I used to think it was my boy back again. My boy has had two very narrow escapes. Two of his stretcher bearers were lifting a poor fellow up when those German beasts turned a machine gun on them and both were killed by my boy’s side, but God spared him. We are all truly sorry for you and I am glad I went to the station to see him off. He stayed with me that afternoon till 4.30 as they left here at 7.30. I shall be pleased to hear from you any time you care to write, as with your poor husband so ill, it is a great trial for you. Yours sincerely, (Mrs.) L. Wood.”

Mr. Wood wrote as follows : “My wife and I are very sorry to hear of your great loss, which may or may not be our fate before all is over. But your son, although dear to you and to his father, and liked very much by us, has laid down his life in a most noble cause. Kindest regards, Chas. F. Crosbie Wood.”

The King and Queen have sent a message of deep sympathy to Mr. and Mrs. Glidle in the loss of their son.

The Rushden Echo, 1st January, 1915, transcribed by Jim Hollis

Soldier Escapes Death by a Fraction of a Second

Rifle and Bayonet Smashed With Shrapnel - German Snipers at Work

How Chris Glidle Was Killed

  “Driving Germans out of a wood is the worst experience that any soldier with ‘nerves’ can wish for,” is the opinion of Private Reg Denton (Rushden), of the Steelbacks.  Recounting some of his experiences to a “Rushden Echo” representative, Private Denton drew an excellent word-picture of soldiers’ life in France and Belgium.

  “The battle of the Aisne was in progress when I went out.  As soon as I got to the trenches I asked for my brother.  I didn’t like the look of him a bit – he had a long beard and had on ragged and muddy clothes as if he had had a rough time.  My cousin Charlie Dilley was with him and looked not much smarter.  After I had seen one or two more chaps I know, I chummed in with my brother, and we fought together for eleven weeks until I got hit.  It was all right being able to keep together like that.  My brother put me up to a few dodges that made things go smoother than they might have done.

  “As soon as I got down beside him, a shell landed close to us with a tremendous bang.  I jumped; my heart went like mad, and I shook like a leaf.  ‘You will soon get used to that kind of thing,’ my brother said and I did, too!  These shells come over at all times and do a lot of damage when they land amongst the troops.  I was a little way out of my trench one day when I heard one burst overhead.  Quick as lightning I dived into the hole and the next moment the place where I had been was riddled with bullets.  I was saved from death by a fraction of a second! If we had more time, our trenches could often be made more secure from rifle shots, but we could not always be digging away.  The German trenches were within a short distance of ours sometimes, and we could see their trench-spades occasionally throwing soil into the air.  We could hear them shouting but they were too cute to show themselves.  Now and again one of them would hop out, grab a few turnips, and then dodge back again.  Of course, we should have a pop at those chaps, but before you could grasp your rifle, take aim, and fire, he might be gone.

  “I saw Chris Glidle shot.  My brother went to speak to him as he was being carried away on the stretcher.  The poor lad could scarcely speak – he had been shot under the heart and was nearly dead.

  “Outpost duty was pretty decent sometimes.  Sid and I were on that once, and bagged a few chickens from a farm.  We could get all the milk we wanted as there were any amount of nanny-goats running about.  When we got back to the trench, we made a fire and cooked the chickens.”

  “But what about attracting the attention of the enemy by the smoke from the fire?” our representative asked.

  “I am afraid that the warnings of the officers don’t count for much.  The chaps think more about getting a meal than of keeping the position secret.  You could see fires right along the trench for a long distance.  But it is no use saying the Germans cannot use a rifle, they can use them as well as we can, and the snipers are deadly shots.  At Ypres we had to drive the Germans back out the wood.  That is a case of where can do so much mischief.  They will shoot from the tops of trees and bring us down almost by the dozen.  We didn’t expect to get out alive.  Dodging from one tree to another with your bayonet fixed and your rifle ready to fire at any moment, you progress a few yards at a time, when perhaps a great hord of Germans will suddenly bear down on you. ‘This is my last moment’ you think and you prepare to stop the onrushing enemy.  ‘Retire’ comes the command from the officer and you get back to the trenches, having gained a few yards only to lose it again.  This  process is being continually repeated.  Sometimes  the British have an advantage, and at other times the luck is with the Germans.  If we hadn’t got nine lives, like a cat is supposed to have, we should get  killed  oftener.  I have been trench fighting when my rifle butt and bayonet were smashed with shot from a shrapnel.  And it is nothing unusual to get your clothes torn with bullets.

  “Snipers nearly got me once.  I went out with one or two water bottles to get drinks for a few pals.  No sooner had I got well into the open that German snipers let fly at me.  I fell to the ground and made a dive for the trench.  ‘Where’s the water’ they asked. ‘Fetch the stuff yourself’ I replied and told them what had happened.

“It was in a charge in a wood at Ypres that I missed my brother.  After the affair I enquired for him and heard that he had been wounded in the hand.  I didn’t mind so much as it was no worse than that, but it seemed jolly lonely without his company.  A short time after that I got shot in the leg and the bone was badly smashed.  However, I felt very lucky to get off with nothing worse, considering the number who get killed.”

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