CRYPTIC REMARK
LORD LOUIS PUZZLED
NO SOLUTION AFTER 26 YEARS
Twenty-six years ago, when he was a 19-year-old sub-lieutenant on the staff of the Prince of Wales during his visit to Dunedin, Lord Louis Mountbatten was intrigued by a remark addressed to him on various occasions. He tried to find out its significance then, but could not and yesterday he tried again with a little more success.
“I was in Dunedin for three davs 26 years ago,” Lord Louis told a gathering of ex-service personnel in the Town Hall Concert Chamber yesterday afternoon, “and wherever our procession went I, being a very junior member of the party, was always in the last car. No matter where we went there were always a few men who shouted as the car went by, 'Bring up those strawberry-coloured guns, Louis. What about those raspberry guns?’ When I asked them what they meant they said, ‘You’ll find out,’ but I never did.”
When Lord Louis appealed to the audience for anyone who could throw any light on the significance of the remark, one member said he remembered the incident, and knew at least one man who had made that remark. What exactly was meant by it, however, he was not sure. Although numerous independent investigations were set in train yesterday afternoon by the appeal, no solution of the significance of the remarks had been found by the time Lord Louis had arrived at the civic reception in his honour at the Town Hall last night. He renewed his appeal to the large audience, but still no interpretation of the remarks was forthcoming, and a solution of the minor mystery is still awaited. -Otago Daily Times, 3/4/1946.
“RASPBERRY GUNS”
EXPLANATION PROVIDED
ORIGIN IN CITY BAR
The cries of “Bring up those strawberry-coloured guns” and “What about those raspberry guns?” which puzzled Lord Louis Mountbatten when he visited Dunedin 26 years ago ago have no doubt caused many people in the city to ponder deeply over possible explanations. Servicemen, duck-shooters and others have used many picturesque epithets in describing their pieces of ordnance, and they have chosen even more vigorous expressions than the shouts that have worried Lord Louis for 26 long years, but few of these would, of course, be likely to baffle the distinguished admiral. An explanation of the strange exhortation of the Dunedin crowd has, however, been forthcoming. It was given to the Otago Daily Times yesterday by Mr William Begg, who was Mayor of the city at the time of Lord Louis’s previous visit. The original saying was “Bring up those raspberry guns,” and it is attributed to a well-known resident of the city who was of a distinctly military turn of mind. Whenever this elderly Englishman wished to order a round of drinks he would shout out in a loud voice the expression: "Bring up those raspberry guns.” According to Mr Begg, this man would often use the same expression in public at military parades to show his approval of the bearing of a particular unit. In this way the expression became well known in Dunedin, and was eventually adopted as a catchcry by many young people of the city about 20 years ago. It was probably in this way that it came to be used as a popular cry during the visit of the Prince of Wales and his staff to Dunedin. Mr Begg said that he remembered hearing it being used by the crowd but he did not think it was directed at Lord Louis personally. Confirmation of Mr Begg’s story came from a member of the staff of the Daily Times, who stated that he remembered the originator of the saying very distinctly. He recalled that this gentleman was wont to frequent the Grand Hotel many years ago and, after he had enjoyed a few drinks, would order subsequent rounds with a tremendous bellow that shook the bottles on the shelves and drummed in everyone’s ears. “Bring up those raspberry guns!” he would shout, and the barman was glad to respond, so imperative was the customers voice. “Strawberry guns” was never used by the Englishman — probably it was a softening or mutilation of the original expression.
The Englishman was well known in Dunedin. During his earlier, impecunious years, the story is told, when his funds ran out, he would walk to Larnach’s Castle and tell the sympathetic members of the Larnach family of his plight. “Debts, duns, and difficulties,” he would bemoan his fate, and at Larnach’s Castle would find a home until a windfall came along. Later, he came into money, and to show his appreciation of the hospitality he had received from the Larnach family, bought with due ceremony, a present for Mr Larnach. The gift was a walking stick. The price was eighteenpence! -Otago Daily Times, 4/4/1946.
“RASPBERRY GUNS”
FULL STORY TOLD
ASSOCIATION WITH ADMIRAL MOUNTBATTEN
Only by the merest chance was Lord Louis Mountbatten deprived on both his visits to Dunedin of a full explanation of the origin of the of “Bring out those raspberry (or strawberry) guns,” which greeted him on his arrival in the city with the Prince of Wales 26 years ago. Chance interruptions of conversations with a member of the Prince’s entourage first prevented the telling of the story of the origin of the cry and of the reason why it was directed at Lord Louis himself. Again when Lord Louis arrived on Tuesday and confessed that he was still puzzled by the shouted references to "raspberry guns” that followed him wherever he went the man who could have revealed the significance of these cries, and no doubt would have found an opportunity to do so, was absent from Dunedin. He is Mr D. G. Mitchell, who recently retired from the service of the Telegraph Department and for some time been station director of 4ZD
Mr Mitchell’s explanation, which was given to a Daily Times reporter yesterday carries the story of the origin of the reference to “raspberry guns" back to the South African War and indicates why it was assumed that Lord Louis was in a position to appreciate the point of comments which have remained meaningless to him. The elderly Englishman with whom references to sanguinary coloured guns have usually been associated remains in the story. It was, in fact, from him that Mr Mitchell had the explanation of the origin of the cry which apparently was raised so often both on the parade ground and, less appropriately, in the bar room.
Boer War Episode The story goes back to one of the meet anxious phases of the Boer War, when at Spion Kop a British Guards regiment was being mercilessly bombarded by enemy artillery. With only their rifles to counter the blast of the guns the guards were in a perilous situation, and one soldier exasperated by the absence of British artillery to answer the Boer fire called "Where are the b—y guns?" But Guards traditions were then what they have always been, and even in such a dire extremity, the colonel in command felt it his duty to remonstrate against the use of such violent language. It is not on record that he found time to ejaculate “Tut, tut,” but he certainly suggested that the guns might more decorously be referred to as “strawberry coloured.” It was perhaps inevitable that some Tommy wit should immediately have replied, “Well, sir, where are the raspberry guns?"
It was this story that was recalled in the mind of the English resident when, strolling across from Onslow House to watch the parades of B Battery at Tahuna Park, he saw the guns swinging into position. His knowledge of and interest in military matters was considerable, and in his enthusiasm he would call "Where are those strawberry-coloured guns?" or “Bring up the raspberry guns!" Naturally his cries became familiar to the young men of the battery and were repeated, completely understood by all concerned, whenever high spirits were sufficiently aroused.
Unpremeditated Incident As Lord Louis recalled this week, he as a mere sub-lieutenant, always rode in the last car when the Prince of Wales’s party was passing through the city. At his side was Paymaster Lieutenant-commander Janion, of the H.M.S. Renown. As they drove past the Telegraph Office on the evening of the Prince’s arrival in Dunedin, Mr Mitchell and some friends stood among the crowd. They noted that Lord Louis and his companion sat in a peculiarly erect and elevated position. To members of a battery this immediately suggested artillerymen sitting on a limber. So striking was the resemblance that Mr Mitchell unconsciously shouted “Bring up the strawberry guns!” a companion immediately called, “Yes, where are the raspberry guns?” There might have been no further reference to guns during the entire visit had Lord Louis and his companion not acknowledged the calls with waves and smiles. This response suggested that they, as fighting men though in naval uniform, understood the significance of the shouts, which were taken up immediately by the crowd and followed the visitors during the remainder of their stay.
Mr Mitchell subsequently met Lieutenant-commander Janion, who later lost his life by being thrown from a horse in India, and more than once embarked upon an explanation of the origin of the expressions which pursued them, but on each occasion the conversations were interrupted before the full story could be told. Lieutenant-commander Janion left Dunedin understanding only why he and Lord Louis should have been known as “the two artillery officers.”
That is the story which Mr Mitchell has to tell of the origins of a catchcry which, in its relation to Lord Louis himself, might have appeared to be a mere triviality had it not been revealed that it had remained so stubbornly to engage his curiosity that it had survived even the passing of 26 years and the strain and responsibility of war leadership. -Otago Daily Times, 5/4/1946.
CHANGING MANNERS.
The sequel to a question asked by Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten during his visit to Dunedin, concerning an incident of a much earlier visit, has borne witness to the permanence of memory, even of things trifling in themselves. To some the explanation of the phrase that puzzled the Admiral — "those strawberry [or raspberry] guns" — may have a still deeper significance in its suggestion of changing manners. "Strawberry," or "raspberry," was the euphemism for an adjective which, according to the best authorities, is less likely to have been derived from "by our Lady" than from the class of "bloods," young, aristocratic dandies whose high spirits were displayed a century and a-half ago. They were distinguished among other things by their profanity. To "swear like a lord" then was to know how to swear. It had been so, by report at least, from a much earlier time. "A footman may swear," says Swift, "but he cannot swear like a lord. He can swear as often, but can he swear with equal delicacy, propriety, and judgment?" So of the class by which the example was set — or supposed to be set — it was natural to think when lesser persons felt the urge to profanity, and the most common of all expletives was formed from the name by which their fine flower was known. That might be natural enough, and the word that marks emphasis now might be harmless enough if that were all. Swift could use it in a letter to Stella. It was probably from a false association that it acquired repulsiveness when the gay "bloods" were forgotten and bloodshed was too well known. What is strangest to deduce from Lord Louis's story, now that the word has its greatest currency, is that there was a time, after its first employment, when it was rare. It was the year before Victoria died, the year in which her grandson, the Admiral, was born. A colonel of the Guards, at Spion Kop, was shocked to hear the word applied, in a moment of emergency, to guns, and recommended a softer alternative. Had Victorianism effected such a reformation of manners?
If it had been anywhere but in the army there might be less cause for wonder. "Our armies swore terribly in Flanders," said Uncle Toby. The provocations which the soldier can know are extreme. One would have thought this colonel would have heard the word a thousand times and been used to it. The reason why he was revolted may have been that he was in the Guards, who have traditions of their own. To swear "like a trooper" has been the saying. Twenty years later, when Lord Louis first visited Dunedin, the alternative which this colonel preferred to the word was a joke, evidently, to those who heard it. An alternative was in use not so long ago, a more natural one than "strawberry" - "ruddy." Nowadays it is the original that is heard, wherever men speak with least thought, to an extent that makes language an absurdity. It can be so hard-worked by some as to form almost half their vocabulary. And we should like to think that New Zealand, as well as Australian soldiers, performing prodigies of faith, devotion to patience, and endurance, as well as of high action overseas, are misrepresented by their own writers who depict them as if they had no language but three words — two expletives, of which we have dealt with one, and a gibe at parentage. "Then a soldier — full of strange oaths." So it used to be, and that was better than a profanity so limited and meaningless. A short story can be written nowadays, with the two expletives which we have quoted as its commencing words, as if violence were the sole object of language. It is a fashion that has nothing to commend it. -Evening Star, 6/4/1946.
“THOSE RASPBERRY GUNS”
Sir, — With reference to “Those Raspberry Guns," numerous people have asked me about the history of those guns and what part they played. Well, it was at Spion Kop (a cone-shaped hill several hundred feet high) that the incident about the guns took place. The guns duly arrived, but the wily Boer had further cannon concealed in the hill, and when the light artillery came into action the Boer let fly with his concealed guns with open sights. A disaster for the English followed. The guns had to be removed from right under the muzzles of the Boer guns. This was accomplished, and it was during the rescuing of the last gun by Lord Roberts’s only son (with the aid of a six-horse team), a junior subaltern in Thornicroft’s Light Artillery, that he lost his life, his gallantry earning him the V.C. posthumously.
Two days later some colonial troops, using different tactics, detoured round the kopje, scaled the hill, and with bayonets fixed caught the Boers from the back. The engagement lasted only a few minutes and removed a natural fortress from the Boers, allowing the English troops to move with greater ease. The disaster now turned into one of England’s greatest victories in the war. All English tactics were completely changed, and with the help of colonial, Australian and New Zealand troops, they beat the Boer at his own game.
Perhaps some veteran of the Boer War may enlighten the present generation as to what the New Zealand troops did in South Africa. They were the first New Zealand soldiers that ever left these shores to help the Mother Country.
— I am, etc., D. G. Mitchell. -Otago Daily Times, 10/4/1946.
THOSE RASPBERRY GUNS
Sir, — I have no knowledge of the term "raspberry guns” or of its origin, but the account appearing over the signature “D. G. Mitchell” is so inaccurate that I cannot allow it to pass without correction. In the first place, the guns were captured at the Battle of Colenso, fought on December 15, 1899, and described as the worst disaster to British arms since the Zulus overwhelmed the camp at Isandhlwana in 1879. Secondly, the guns were not all removed, as 10 of them remained in the possession of the Boers. Lieutenant Roberts belonged to the King’s Royal Rifles, not to any battery of artillery. Spion Kop was not fought until after the New Year, the operations commencing on January 11 and finishing on January 27, when the kopje was abandoned by the British forces. The troops which actually captured the kopje and held it for a brief period were the Royal Lancasters, the 2nd Lancashire Fusiliers, 94 men of Thornycroft’s Horse to act as guides, half a company of sappers, and two companies 1st Connaught Rangers and the Imperial Light Infantry to act as supports. The hill was taken on the night of the 23rd, not two days later, as was stated, and was evacuated by the British troops on the 27th. These points, which were taken from Cassell’s “History of the Boer War,” would seem to discount the statement that “the disaster now turned into one of England’s greatest victories in the war.”
I would not have challenged Mr Mitchell’s remarks, Sir, but for the way in which they appear to try to discredit the British Army. Nobody has a higher admiration for the colonial troops than I have, but I contend that it is a poor way to praise them by belittling our English troops. By all means let us have a history of the New Zealand Mounted Rifles in the Boer War (I will gladly buy a copy myself), but, while giving them full credit for their gallantry and the valuable work they did, it should not be written in such a way as to appear to glorify, and perhaps deify, them at the expense of the finest soldiers in the world — the British regulars, better known to some of us as the “Old Contemptibles.”
— I am. etc., Digger.
Sir, — I would like Mr Mitchell to know some of the facts concerning this episode. The term “raspberry" was later used in preference to the original strawberry, the raspberry being much the same colour. Mr Mitchell is right when he refers to Spion Kop. I will submit some of the facts as related to me by one who was there. The battery went into action unlimbered, the gun teams withdrew. Before hardly a shot had been fired the Boers opened up, putting out of action five out of six guns. The order came to limber up, and only one team succeeded in reaching the guns.
Lieutenant Roberts was in charge of this team, but he fell mortally wounded. At the same time the shell killed the two leading horses and the other two drivers. The remaining driver disentangled the leading horses and took his gun out of action, this being the only gun removed during the action.
My reason for being so interested in this is because that driver H. Harding, of Salisbury, England, was my brother. He was awarded the D.C.M. for his conduct, and Lieutenant Roberts was awarded the V.C. posthumously. Hanging on the wall at my home in England is the citation of the above action commending the two men on their courage and determination. It is signed by General Buller, so I think this also adds to the term of "raspberry guns.’’
— I am, etc., P. Harding, Alexandra. -Otago Daily Times, 12/4/1946.
“THOSE RASPBERRY GUNS”
Sir — In your issue of April 10, your correspondent D. G. Mitchell goes back to the fighting around Ladysmith in 1899. I hope that Mr Mitchell, in the interests of historical accuracy, will pardon me if I set him right on one or two points of fact. It was at Colenso, in the open country on the south side of the Tugela River, that Lieutenant Roberts lost his life, and Colonel Long’s guns were not rescued, but lost. About 600 yards from the bank of the river, near the railway, in an open exposed position, there are, or were in 1902, a row of small grey stones about a chain apart, marking the exact position of the 10 guns of the Royal Field Artillery, which were captured by the Boers on December 15, 1899. In April, 1902, I visited the grave of Lieutenant Roberts at Chievely, about 10 miles south of Colenso. The inscription on the plain white marble cross states that Frederick Hugh Sherston Roberts, Lieutenant King’s Royal Rifles, only son of Field-marshal Lord Roberts, was mortally wounded in an attempt to save the British guns at Colenso, and died of his wounds on the following day.
Colonel Long’s guns were certainly in an open, exposed position, and as the opposite side of the Tugela River, from whence the Boers poured their sudden deadly rifle fire, is deeply fringed with bushes and rocks, with high hills rising behind, and is only about 600 yards distant, it is no wonder the gunners and horses were helplessly cut down, and the guns abandoned. What one does wonder, though, is this when the British force abandoned the guns and withdrew out of range of the murderous rifle fire from across the river, why were the guns not protected by British fire from further back, as the Boers had to cross the river's and advance over 600 yards of flat, open country to take the guns away?
— I am, etc., D. Malthus. Hampden -Otago Daily Times, 13/4/1946.
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