From Midshipman to Field Marshal — A Reader’s Guide

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Authors: Wood, Evelyn, 1838-1919 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2020 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Marshals -- Great Britain -- Biography; Great Britain -- History, Military -- 19th century; Wood, Evelyn, 1838-1919 Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

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Words 243,930

Reading time 1061 min

Text sections 60

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Source: Project Gutenberg record #61812

Evelyn Wood's memoir traces his career from Royal Navy midshipman to field marshal, with detailed accounts of the Crimean War, Indian Mutiny, Ashanti, Zulu, and Egyptian campaigns. The excerpts show his focus on logistics, equipment failures, and personal interactions with commanders like General Thesiger.

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d as specimens of his work he sent an engraving of a plan he had made of Passages, a little seaport in Guipuzcoa, Spain, and a sketch of Nantes, Brittany, where he lived.

Having obtained the appointment in this unconventional manner, he joined the Instructional Staff, at what is now known as Yorktown, Camberley, in 1824, and was promoted later to a similar but better paid post at Woolwich, whence he was sent in 1828 to the Cape of Good Hope as Surveyor-General, and remained there until he was invalided home in 1848. While holding this appointment he made locomotion possible for Europeans, constructing also lighthouses and sea-walls.

I was born at the Vicarage, Cressing, a village near Braintree, Essex, on the 9th of February 1838, the youngest son of John Page Wood, Clerk in Holy Orders, who was also Rector of St. Peter’s, Cornhill, in the City of London. My father,[6] educated at Winchester and Cambridge, visited as a lad the Field of Waterloo a few days after the 18th of June 1815, and brought back the small book[7] of a French soldier, killed in the battle. This book, which I still possess, has within its leaves a carnation, and belonged evidently to a Reservist who had been recalled to the Colours in “The Hundred Days.” He had served in the campaigns of 1812, 1813, and 1814, and had been discharged on Napoleon’s abdication, as is shown by his last pay settlement.

My father took his degree early in 1820, and was immediately appointed Chaplain and Private Secretary to Queen Caroline. In the following year he married Emma Carolina Michell, with whom he had been acquainted for some time; for he frequently accompanied his uncle, Benjamin Wood, to visit copper mines in Cornwall in which the Woods had an interest. Benjamin Wood was later for many years Member for Southwark.

In 1846, owing to monetary troubles, our governess was sent away, and her time having been previously fully occupied with the elder children, I had but little instruction, and when I went to the Grammar School, Marlborough, in February 1847, I could only read words of one syllable. This I was ashamed to admit, and was greatly distressed when as a first lesson the master gave me two lines of Latin to learn by heart. My elder brother, understanding my trouble, beckoned me to the bench at his side, and repeated my task until I was word perfect.

After two years at the Grammar School, where boys were sufficiently fed, but caned severely for false quantities, I went to the College at the other end of the town. The food was poor and scanty, yet I preferred the College to the Grammar School, from the greater liberty we enjoyed. I gave no trouble while at the College, or at least escaped adverse notice, till December 1851, when unjust punishment made me anxious to leave the School for any place, or for any profession.

In October our pocket money (mine was 6d. weekly) was collected for providing fireworks, as had been the annual custom, for Guy Fawkes’ Day. On the 5th November, after the fireworks had been purchased, and distributed, the Head Master forbade their being displayed. It did not affect me, as boys of our Form, the Lower Fourth, were considered to be too young to let off the crackers and squibs their money had purchased. When night fell, the younger masters endeavoured to enforce the prohibition; several personal acts of violence occurred in which the boys were victorious, for the Upper Fifth and Sixth averaged from seventeen to eighteen years of age, and many were as big as their teachers. Fireworks were let off in the dormitories during the night, and acts of insubordination continued throughout November.

The Head was a learned scholar and kind-hearted man, but not strong enough to master 500 boys, of whom 100 were verging on manhood. I saw him when approaching his desk in the Upper School struck by a swan-shot thrown by a crossbow. The pellet stuck in his forehead, and he allowed it to remain there till school was up. If, as I believe, the feeling of the Lower Fourth was representative of the School, a tactful man might have utilised the shame and remorse we felt, to quell the rebellion; but neither he nor his assistants understood us, and later the masters’ desks were burnt, an attempt made to fire some of the out-buildings, and a Translation of the Greek Plays was burnt with the Head’s desk. In December the Master expelled three or four boys, and gave the Upper Sixth the choice of being gradually expelled, or of handing up ringleaders for punishment. The low tone of the School was shown by the fact that several selected by the older lads were like myself, under fourteen years of age.

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Evelyn Wood’s memoir opens with a dedication “to my comrades past and present of all ranks in both services,” signaling a narrative that blends personal advancement with collective military experience. The table of contents reveals a career spanning from 1852 aboard HMS Queen to command of the Second Army Corps in 1903, with each chapter anchored to a specific campaign or posting. The excerpts show Wood’s attention to administrative detail: he notes that the 90th Light Infantry landed with only four flannel shirts and four mess tins, and that soldiers were sent to the front unarmed and unclothed. This is not a romantic war story but a practical officer’s account of how armies actually function—and malfunction.

A Career in Two Services

The title From Midshipman to Field Marshal is literal: Wood began as a naval officer on a 116-gun ship before transferring to the army. The chapter list shows he served in the Crimea with the 13th Light Dragoons, then in Central India during the Mutiny, and later commanded the 90th Light Infantry in South Africa. His path is not a straight line but a series of postings that reflect the British Empire’s military commitments. The excerpts give a sense of how Wood moved between theaters, always observing the state of his troops. In Zululand, he notes that General Thesiger, a teetotaler, brought champagne to a meeting—a small detail that humanizes command relations. Wood’s voice is that of a man who has seen both the grand strategy and the broken boots.

The Logistics of Empire

Wood repeatedly returns to the theme of inadequate equipment. In the Amatola Mountains, he finds his battalion poorly supplied; later, inspecting the left wing at Utrecht, he discovers the regimental reserve consisted of “four flannel shirts, and four mess tins.” He pushes for reform, and after his representations, General Thesiger supports a policy that no soldier should leave the base without proper gear. Yet when Wood returns to Natal in 1881, he finds battalions have “slipped back to the old state of unreadiness,” with men having only one partly worn pair of boots. These observations are not complaints but evidence of a systemic problem: the regimental system left supplies in the quartermaster’s hands, and Wood argues that someone had to speak out. His memoir thus serves as a corrective to official histories that gloss over such failures.

Negotiation and Command in the Field

An extended excerpt describes Wood’s dealings with the Pondo chief Umquikela in 1878. Wood agrees to a meeting, then waits while the chief delays. Mrs. Jenkins, playing “Sister Anne” in Blue Beard, spots the chief’s party on a hill, but Umquikela refuses to come closer. After hours of messages, Wood rides 40 miles back to Kokstadt before daylight, then proceeds to the Ixopo, where General Thesiger joins him. They talk through the night about the Pondos and the magistrates. The episode shows Wood’s patience and his willingness to travel hard distances—and it reveals the odd juxtaposition of imperial formality and frontier improvisation. The mention of a children’s game as a signal is a rare moment of dark humor in a text otherwise focused on supply and strategy.

Voice and Structure: A Practical Memoir

Wood writes in a plain, factual style, with dates and place names anchoring each paragraph. He rarely editorializes; instead, he lets details speak. The narrative moves chronologically, but within chapters he often jumps between administrative work, combat, and social interactions. The excerpts show a man who values efficiency: he calculates costs (30s. per diem per wagon), proposes a regimental transport scheme costing £60,000, and notes that his suggestions were carried out. Yet he also records personal moments, like the late-night talk with Thesiger. This combination of bureaucratic precision and human observation gives the memoir its texture. Readers should expect a work that is less about heroism than about how the British army actually operated—and how one officer tried to make it work better.

Wood’s memoir rewards readers who attend to the small details: the number of shirts in a reserve store, the cost of a wagon, the route of a night ride. These are the building blocks of his argument that military readiness depends on mundane logistics. The book is long—over 240,000 words—but its chapters are self-contained, making it possible to read selectively. For a first reading, the chapters on the Zulu campaign (XXVIII–XXXIV) offer a concentrated example of Wood’s method: a mix of personal narrative, administrative critique, and sharp observation of both allies and enemies.

I kept thinking about Wood’s quiet patience with broken equipment and stubborn generals. It felt less like adventure and more like endurance. That same deep, steady honesty lives in Fisher’s memories—he never hides the mess, just watches it with a wry calm. Memories, by Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Fisher — Reading Companion carried that weight with me for days, like an old friend’s tired shrug after a long war.