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Major Henry Blosse-Lynch
Late Irish Guards
by Colonel Sir William Mahon BT LVO
formerly Irish Guards
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Henry Blosse-Lynch was one of those special characters with considerable abilities who were never burdened by ambition. It is hardly surprising, for his family was peppered for generations with lively military heroes. One featured in Wellington’s Dispatches from Spain, others campaigned in India, Afghanistan and Africa. Another famous Henry, who spoke Arabic, Hindustani and Persian served in the Royal Indian Navy becoming a famous explorer and mapper.
Our Henry’s deep roots were in the wilds of western Connaught. The Lynch family, one of the twelve Anglo-Norman tribes of Galway, survived the complicated politics of the Jacobean and later times. The family was based at Partry near Ballinrobe in Mayo, so even English readers will understand that Henry had a natural understanding of Ireland, the countryside and field sports.
He had a curious vocabulary of unusual expressions, which to strangers were often comical. He referred to his room in the mess, entirely unaffectedly, as ‘my tent’, having often lived in one during tours in Egypt, Aqaba and East Africa. Other favourites were sleeping (pressing the sheets), his children (the tinkers) and liberal use of ‘good order’.
People who could not fathom his character were inclined to think he was frivolous. But hidden behind his apt sobriquet, Gorsebush, was a modest, wise and skilful soldier with a great sense of fun. His shooting and fishing were amazing. His reading of weather and ground made him a canny sportsman and he was greatly admired by all ranks in the Micks. To ‘London officers’ Gorsebush may have appeared to be rather ‘rustic’, but his un-pushy leadership was undeniable, and he was a much-loved brilliant ‘people person’. Few knew of his home skills, as an adroit carpenter and handyman.
In Iolanthe, Gilbert and Sullivan mocked the House of Peers. Their mocking would have been a compliment to Henry Blosse-Lynch: ‘The House of Peers made no pretence, To intellectual eminence, Or scholarship sublime’. Likewise, Henry made no pretence to intellectual eminence, nor scholarship sublime. He described himself as ‘an idle major’. Perhaps in the eyes of the ambitious that was right. But he was immensely successful because he flourished, enjoyed life, and contributed fun, laughter and common-sense wherever he went. You can’t say that about many people. Long service and wide experience, coupled with his attractive personality attracted hundreds of good friends.
Henry was born in June 1933, the ominous year when Hitler became Chancellor. Henry’s father (also Henry) was serving in The Dorsetshire Regiment. The infant Henry and his elder sister moved to India in 1935. His father engaged in mountain warfare at the Afghan end of the Khyber Pass from the (still operational) fort at Landi Kotal. The Dorsetshire badge can still be seen beside the single road through the Khyber. The families did not go up to Landi Kotal. After its year tour at Landi Kotal, the battalion was relieved but remained in India until mid-1939 when they went to Malta. Hitler had developed into a monstrous dictator, rampaging towards the outbreak of a second world war.
Consequently, Henry’s father was urgently employed with his battalion racing to prepare the defences of Malta. Young Henry saw 50 aircraft shot down over the sea and six ships sunk off Valletta. His most personal memory was the six attempts to remove his tonsils. Each time he went under the anaesthetic there was an air-raid, and he woke in the shelter, no operation having taken place. Once he woke up, abandoned, complete with tonsils, with part of the wall missing and fires burning. Little wonder Malta was awarded the George Cross!
After two years of siege and relentless bombing, Malta was on the brink of starvation. Henry was aged seven and a half when they left for Egypt in December 1941. The convoy of eight ships, under attack from Sicily, had to run the gauntlet through the perilous ‘bomb alley’. Two vessels were sunk, and Henry saw one of them going down with its Red Cross clearly visible, and women and children in the water.
In Egypt, his father was involved in the Alamein campaign, while his formidable mother who outranked her colonel husband, was a steely Commandant in the British Red Cross Voluntary Aid Detachment.
After a time Henry’s parents decided the children would be safer in South Africa. They were packed off down the Suez Canal for what turned out to be three years. School was at Pietermaritzburg, and although they did not see their parents, Henry loved South Africa. His report said he was ‘fairly feral’ and ‘good at tying knots’.
When they returned to England Henry went to St Peter’s Court, a preparatory school evacuated from Broadstairs to Crediton in Devon. One snowy winter’s night the Elizabethan mansion caught fire and the school burnt down. The matron and three boys who were trapped on a flat roof were killed. In his dormitory with the aid of a smuggled torch Henry, ‘good at tying knots’, managed to tie the sheets together and they escaped. One of his friends didn’t use the sheets and broke both his ankles when he landed. The whole experience shocked Henry profoundly: his speech was affected. He was said to have ‘actually stopped talking for a while’.
Like his father (and later his son James) Henry went on to Harrow. He shone in his house and at Rugby, but as he put it, he ‘bluffed his way’ academically.
In 1952 Henry did National Service in the Irish Guards. He, by his own admission, was not a natural ‘driller’ and modestly described himself as ‘not a ceremonial officer’. Nevertheless, he managed to command a half company at The Queen’s Coronation and was mounted on three birthday parades. Henry was a popular Regimental Adjutant in 1968. During his interesting army career he travelled extensively and was one of very few Foot Guards officers who went on the Canadian Guards Arctic Warfare course. Despite the serious operational side of soldiering which was going on, Henry managed to shoot and fish around the world - geese in Germany or Canada, snipe in Northern Ireland, sailfish in Belize or sand grouse in Kenya. His game book is a family heirloom.
Kenya was a highlight and a place where he served twice. In 1954 he was there helping the Crown against the Mau Mau. He was under fire on several occasions and returned as good as he got, with some success, which was duly recorded.
In 1958 Henry was invited to dinner at Windsor Castle where his friend Patrick Plunket was Equerry to The Queen. The Queen Mother and Princess Margaret were also present. The five of them had a very good dinner, Gorsebush on best behaviour, no doubt. Patrick and Henry thought the dinner was over when the ladies withdrew, so the two Micks lingered a while over the port, only to be invited back into the drawing room. A little while later, it is reliably reported, Gorsebush was singing Irish songs accompanied by Princess Margaret on the piano.
1964 was another good year, as Henry was posted from Hubbelrath to Kenya once more, to command No 3 Company Irish Guards, serving with 2nd Bn Scots Guards. A Scots Guards driver was sent to collect him at the airport. He asked how he would know which was the Irish Guards officer. He was simply told that he would know. Sure enough, Henry was the only person in Mombasa in a three-piece tweed suit.
Kenya was fun, and life had its excitements, not least for Henry, that of finding a wife. There was also a dramatic evening in the Muthaiga club in Nairobi when, in ‘high spirits’, Henry swung on the chandelier. He was not as lucky as some; both he and the chandelier crashed to the floor. And ever after, Henry when wishing somebody a fun evening would say ‘Swing on the chandeliers!’
In Kenya in addition to ‘recruiting’ Jan, his wife, as he termed it, he of course continued his other passion – shooting. The game book tells us they had great sport. After one day on the way home the Austin Gypsy jeep was laden with 78 sandgrouse, 16 guinea fowl, 10 partridge and 5 impala. They had to cross the railway line but this time the car was weighed down and the wheels became stuck either side of the tracks. They could not move it. Then they heard a noise and realised a train was coming. One of them ran up the track firing his gun to warn the train. But thinking it was an ambush, the driver sped up. When the train hit the car the sparks flew, and it took a long time before it could stop. Fortunately, no one was hurt.
Having ‘recruited’ Jan they were married in London in 1966. He was twice the man when Jan came on the scene. She was the making of him. Henry had several appointments at Pirbright and in London and the family was completed by the birth of James in 1972 in Hong Kong. After that stability for the family became important so in 1987 Henry retired. By then they were established at Longcross House not far from Newbury.
One night Henry woke to smell smoke. In a rerun of his schoolboy experience, Henry reacted at once. He dashed downstairs and ran towards his neighbour’s house which was burning fiercely. He broke down the door, and climbed the stairs with difficulty, to find his neighbour fast asleep. They just managed to escape. Henry put it rather more colourfully, but the essence was ‘otherwise he’d have had it’.
Henry’s shooting was extraordinary, he had a great eye; it was an event when he missed. Practice made perfect. Holland & Holland wisely chose Henry as director in charge of the shooting school. Five or so years later he moved to the West London Shooting School and then in due course really retired.
Like many another, Henry’s whole family had become established in England. By 1991 it was pointless trying to resist the inevitable social changes that had been happening in Ireland for a hundred years. They bravely decided to sell Partry. Henry knew it was unavoidable. It scarred him and the whole family, but as was his way, he smiled and led on.
Henry concentrated on spreading his enthusiasm for shooting and fishing among the young. He started a local shoot which became a major feature of the family’s lives.
Henry and Jan were wonderful hosts and were kind and infinitely caring to everyone, in good times and bad. The regiment has lost one of its nicest and finest characters. To Jan, Caro, Emmie, Clare and James and the grandchildren we send every sympathy. |
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