Son of Sir James Horlick, homeopathic pharmacist and manufacturer of HORLICK'S MALTED MILK.
Major Gerald Nolekin Horlick, served with the Royal Gloucestershire Hussars, dying of malaria in Alexandria, 5th July 1918.
He was the Brigade Machine Gun Officer at Suvla Bay in Gallipoli where dysentery was rife. Horlick's Malted Milk was used as a medicine and specifically prescribed for men with dysentery by the MOs.
One of Horlick's brother Officers, 2nd Lt E T Cripps (D Sqn), mentions him (known variously as Jerry or Gerry) in his personal diary and his family's product.
AUGUST 28th, 1915. .... May's brother, Arthur Clark, wounded slightly. Our Doctor was hit to-day: such bad luck, as he was invaluable, his pluck marvellous. [...] Have just come back from Jerry Horlick, who is with his gun above us on high ground. He stood me tea – sardines (with a pocket knife) and bully biscuit and tea in a mess tin -- so good; and he gave me a cigarette, which I haven't had for days.
SEPTEMBER 6th, 1915. The Regiment moved off last night after dark to the trenches about a mile away. I have been seedy and Cecil insisted on my staying here a day or two. I am all right again, thanks to Jerry Horlick's malted. Wonderful stuff. It is supplied to the men who are ill, so long as we can carry it. ..The Irish Regiment whom we relieve came into our dug-out in the middle of last night and began looting!... we shouldn't have anything left for breakfast this morning. [...] They all say the trenches are much safer than this place.
FRONT LINE TRENCH, SEPTEMBER 21st, 1915.CATOR HOUSE. Very busy digging. We are up in the new trench in the firing line. [...] There are a lot of blackberry bushes close by. I crawled out and picked my cap full and am going to give them to the cook to mix with the rice. [...] Great triumph yesterday! One of our men shot a sniper taking a constitutional in front of his pitch, about 450 yards away. His pal dragged him in, and they nearly got him too! The Warwicks had the cheek to try and claim him. In the evening I had a lovely walk.... We walked to the sea, right across the open country, and sat on the shore and looked at the position and the wonderful view.... the most wonderful sunset you can imagine. [...] Cecil moving is a drawback, as his wife has just started to keep him well supplied with food, and it all goes to the other Mess now! Gerry Horlick's milk keeps this Regiment going. We lose a man or two every day: it will soon reduce our numbers if it goes on. It is this beastly form of dysentery. The men who are seedy use about six bottles of Horlick's a day. We had about ten cases of it, and it has been a Godsend.
Sep 26th - Reserve Trenches. We the officers have a row of dug-outs 7 ft long by 4 ft wide and 4 ft deep with a communication trench at the side. u] A depressing thing is seeing your best men going down with dysentery. Horlick's malted milk is the proper diet. [/u] These reserve trenches are half way between ANZA and A Beach a quarter of an hour's walk from the beach.....
SEPTEMBER 28th, 1915. [...] Leave is stopped for all officers, and two of us were going on leave, I believe. They say there is to be an attack on the first line Turk trenches, to straighten out our line, but if so it will be over long before this reaches you....I have got the usual complaint and have had it some days. I am dosing myself with Horlick's malted milk and eating nothing else. Such bad luck, just as stores are beginning to come! It is maddening seeing them eating all sorts of things and you have to stick to Horlick's. All my best men are going into hospital: my two Troops, 80 men, are now 40. [...] I can't tell you any details about Wilf. Barton. Wilf. was buried by a burying party and nothing was brought back but his identity disc and the little silver coin with his girl's name on it. I put a cross up on his supposed grave, but was not sure of it, there were so many.
We heard the good news from France last night and those fools, Tullibardine's Scottish Horse, cheered. Result, a "straff" half the night all along the line, as the Turks thought we were attacking, and everyone started firing for about eight miles and the guns began and we had a broken night's rest. Silly idiots!
Diary entries supplied by
Martin G at 1914-1918
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