HERE’S TO CONSTABLE RITCHINGS

It Is Probable that His Record is Unique in the Annals of War Since Spartan Days

Few men have the modest estimate of duty in relation to self that has given an unsought celebrity to Arthur Ritchings of Cardiff, Wales. If his conduct may be taken as evidence of his philosophy of life, doing one’s duty in the world confers no particular distinction on the individual—the discharge of a moral obligation establishing no title to swank, swagger or puffed-upness. Possibly it is necessary to be a Welshman to appreciate Ritchings’ mental attitude, for it seems that the people of Cardiff saw nothing abnormal or eccentric in the behavior of their townsman, regarding it quite as a matter of course. Indeed it was a London paper that acquainted the Cardiffians that they had in their midst a hero deserving of especial respect. We get the particulars from the same source.

When Germany fell foul of Belgium, Arthur Ritchings was a member of the Cardiff Constabulary, in plain terms, a policeman. As soon as England declared war in 1914, Ritchings threw aside his truncheon, and other police insignia, and enlisted in the Army as a private. He served in that capacity for three years, doing the job with thoroughness, having an eye single to duty. Though unobtrusive in all his doings, not in the least inclined to celebrate in canticles of self-praise his deeds in trench or field, he nevertheless came to the notice of his superiors finally, and in November, 1917, his bravery won him promotion on the field. He was made second lieutenant. But he went right ahead in his normal way, yet, having once attracted their attention, he could not keep out of the view of his superiors, and so in February, 1918, they called him up and gave him to understand that in their opinion he measured up to a captaincy. But Ritchings just went right on being Ritchings, and so they made him a major. Then they made him a lieutenant colonel, and there is no conjecturing what they would have had to do with him had the war continued a little longer. As it was they made him a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, pinned on his breast the Croix de Guerre with palms, gave him the Military Cross, and did what they could to persuade him that as he had been a gallant and daring soldier so also had he been an able and decisive officer. In the meantime the Germans had done what they could to further his interests by wounding him on six different occasions.

Now, the war having been fought and won, his duty no longer commanding the wear of khaki, Lieutenant Colonel Ritchings retired from the Army and returned to his native Cardiff. His townsmen welcomed him, congratulating him that he had managed to escape death for a further enjoyment of the unemotional serenity of the sturdy Welsh town. The Chairman of the Municipal Bench publicly declared that he was glad to see Ritchings back, and spoke approvingly of the fact that his war record was a credit to the town.

HIS HOME HONORS

Then Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Ritchings—with four years of active military service to his credit and field rank worn at the front, with a breast-load of decorations and the proved ability to command over 3,000 fighting men—stepped over to police headquarters, took up his truncheon and resumed his familiar duties as a common policeman in a mining town, where the care of drunks and disorderlies alone taxed his military genius.

There the matter might have ended but for the interests of a person who had no particular business to come fussing around in Cardiff affairs. This person happened to be one of those ordinary mortals who hold the notion that certain honors attached to heroism and military achievement are not sufficiently represented by mere medals and things, and this person thought it in high degree outrageous that a man who had lifted himself by valor from private to lieutenant colonel should be permitted to walk a beat and swing a club as a means of serving the Crown. This indignant person wrote a passionate letter to the London Times, with the result that Cardiff took a second view of the situation, and the Watch Committee (a sort of police commissioner) took the ex-lieutenant colonel off his beat and gave him the lofty job of training the police to the proper dignity of constabulary service.

This, however, did not entirely satisfy outside admirers of Ritchings, honorable as it might seem to Cardiffians, so the Lord Mayor was pressed for information whether there was any intention of appointing the distinguished officer to a higher and more responsible position on the force. That dignitary (and a Lord Mayor truly esteems himself a dignitary in England) went to the extent of admitting that he thought that he might say that all the members of the Watch Committee were in sympathy with the idea, and that he had no doubt that when the opportunity occurred Colonel or Constable Ritchings would be given a place better suited to his merits.

And what said Ritchings concerning himself? Why, merely this, that he “recognized as every right-thinking man would that he had a moral obligation to return to the Cardiff police force for the reason that the ratepayers had been contributing during his absence to the support of his dependents at home.”

Well, Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Ritchings, here’s hats off to you!