Like many men who lived through the First World War, Granddad didn’t talk much about it, and I was too young to have developed my later interest in military history, so didn’t cross-examine him. So reconstructing his army career is a mixture of the odd anecdote I remember him telling me, and some background research. Granddad enlisted into the 7th City of London Regiment. He always referred to this regiment by its nickname, the ‘Shiny Seventh’. It seems odd that he joined a London regiment; at the time he was living in Ipswich. However, the 2/7th London Regiment were stationed in Ipswich from 19 June 1915 to 13 July 1916 , so he may just have decided to join the nearest regiment. However, his regimental number (7244) falls within the pattern of four-figure numbers used in the 1st Battalion – all the 2nd Battalion men I have traced had 6-figure number. He married my Grandma Ethel in Ipswich on 13 March 1915, so must have been newly-married when he joined up There is a photograph of him which almost certainly was taken as soon as he was issued his uniform: it looks bran-new. Mum said that when she was little he used to kid her that it was taken when he was in camp – there is a tent in the background, but it is obviously a painted backdrop of the kind commonly used by studio photographers. I think I remember Granddad saying that he entered France through Le Havre. He said he liked the French people he met, but didn’t like the Belgians at all, for some reason. Having worked as an ‘oil carman’ (i.e. delivering paraffin on a horse-drawn cart), he was assigned to the regimental transport section at some time, although one of his anecdotes suggests he spent time in the trenches. He told me that one day an aeroplane flew over their trench, and he took a pot-shot at it with his rifle. The sergeant told him off and said it was ‘one of ours’ – while they were arguing the plane returned, and the black crosses on the wings were clearly visible! Although service in the transport section was a little safer than with the front-line companies, it could still be hazardous. When he was part of a convoy one night driving horse-drawn wagons, taking supplies close to the front-line, and well within German artillery range, they came to a cross-roads. The Germans were slowly and systematically shelling the crossing, but Granddad counted the interval between shells, and held back until he calculated that he had a few moments, then galloped across, just making it before the next salvo came down. This story corresponds closely with an incident recounted by Lieutenant P B Berliner, the battalion transport officer at that time, who describes how during an attempt to get rations to the troops on the night of 22 March 1918 (during the great German offensive), an attempt to retrieve a bogged field kitchen caused a ‘frightful clatter’ which caused the support company to open fire, thinking it was a German tank. The Germans clearly must have heard it too, as they opened fire with a battery of 5.9’s traversing down the road in the forest fortunately just ahead of us all the way down to the cross roads where they concentrated all four guns. When we got within about fifty yards, we waited until all four rounds had come over & then hared around the corner to the right & got clear. So being in the transport section wasn’t altogether a ‘cushy’ option! Granddad told me another story of the ‘Great Push’ by the Germans in Spring 1918. The Germans almost reached Amiens, with the British retreating before them. Granddad decided that his battalion would need a hot meal, so rounded up every scrap of food he could find and put it into a giant stew, which perhaps didn’t smell too good. At any rate when the Germans caught a whiff of it they retreated and so the British army was saved! Granddad may have exaggerated his part in the German defeat slightly. He also talked a little about the execution of soldiers found guilty of ‘cowardice.’ He didn’t actually say he took part in a firing squad, but described how at an execution the men’s rifles were taken away, loaded with one round, and then returned. One man’s rifle was loaded with a blank cartridge, so that each man could comfort himself with the thought that he had the blank round, and had therefore not fired the fatal shot. However, Granddad said that it was possible to tell if your rifle was firing a live or a blank round, so the process was pointless. Of course, this could well have been only soldiers’ gossip. No man of either the 1/7th or 2/7th Londons was shot during the War, but Robert Loveless Barker of the 1/6th Londons, and Frederick William Slade of the 2/6th Londons, were shot, in 1916 and 1917. Since these battalions were in the same brigades as the 1/7th and 2/7th respectively, Granddad would have been aware of the executions. These are the only details that I can remember of Granddad’s war service, although there are a number of published and unpublished personal accounts by people who served in the Shiny Seventh, including two by transport officers, whom Granddad must have known. I think Granddad was discharged in 1919, in which year he and Grandma moved to Great Yarmouth. Granddad was awarded the usual two medals – the British War and Victory Medals – which we still have, along with his army-issue spurs.
Photographs of Grandfather in uniform and at his wedding also of his medals and spurs

Front
George Frederick Harvey
Photograph
Portrait photograph of George Frederick Harvey in uniform
Photograph of George Frederick Harvey in uniform
Memorabilia
Army issue spurs given to George Frederick Harvey
photograph of the spurs worn by George Frederick Harvey.
George Frederick Harvey's wedding day 1915
Photograph of wedding day George married shortly before enlisting in 1915
George Frederick Harvey's wedding photograph
Medal
George Frederick Harvey's War and Victory medals