The cartoonist who left his drawing board for the Flanders' mud

Before the great Carl Giles was employed to entertain and delight readers with his cartoons in the Daily Express, his predecessor at the paper had been just as prodigious in the years preceding him. Sidney Strube first joined the Express in 1912 and would remain one of its superstars for more than 35 years. He became so popular that, in 1931, he would become the highest paid journalist in Fleet Street on a salary of £10,000 a year. When the First World War broke out, Strube's cartoons highlighted the alleged atrocities to women and children by the invading German army in Belgium. German barbarism was symbolised by the figure of Kaiser Wilhelm II.

Strube produced a morale-boosting cartoon calendar for the following year, which focused on the misfortunes of the Kaiser, who was depicted as an arrogant, militaristic but inept autocrat.

The calendar was entitled The Kaisers Kalendar for 1915 or the Dizzy Dream of Demented Willie. Although it proved popular with the Daily Express readership, there was one drawback, the paper felt it necessary to print a pertinent warning on the back of the calendar: "The Daily Express warns purchasers not to send these calendars to troops at the Front as the Germans have been known to kill prisoners on whom they have found caricatures of the Kaiser."

Excepting the fact that Britain was at war, Strube's cartoons were, by and large, humorous and light-hearted. The Minister for War, Lord Kitchener, who was immortalised in the 'Your Country Needs You' recruitment poster, became an avid fan of the cartoonist.

Kitchener took the time to write to Express editor Ralph Blumenfeld congratulating Strube on his morale-boosting cartoons: "Your artist is a geníus! And in this time of stress and sorrow his sense of humour and power of conveying it are invaluable."

After 15 months of war, Strube decided that it was time to perform his patriotic duty.

On October 29, 1915, he enlisted in the 28th Battalion London Regiment (Artists Rifles). This 'Corps of Artists' was unique in that it mainly consisted of painters, sculptors, musicians, architects and actors. Strube's close friend, Punch cartoonist Bert Thomas, who had already joined the Artists Rifles, along with other cartoonists such as Wyndham Robinson and Kenneth Bird (Fougasse), had encouraged him to join.

Having enlisted, the first thing Strube noticed about army life was the camaraderie that existed amongst the recruits, the majority of them having much in common because of their artistic backgrounds. After basic training, Strube was posted to Hare Hall in Gidea Park, Essex, as a PT instructor.

He was something of a celebrity in the camp, even though there were many well-known artists. He was often asked by his superiors to design posters and programmes for army concerts as well as menus for mess dinners.

Although small in stature, just 5ft 5in in height, Strube became one of the most inspiring and efficient of PT instructors. In August 1916, he was made a Corporal soon after rising to the rank of Sergeant.

Strube enjoyed pranking the cadets. During bayonet practice, he would occasionally fill the dummies with red paint and watch the cadets - some of whom fainted horrified at the sight of what they thought was blood oozing out of the dummies.

In October 1916, Strube was sent to France where the Artists had set up another training camp in St Omer. After a year there, orders came through that the Artists, including Sergeant Strube, were being given the opportunity of fulfilling the role they had originally volunteered for, that of going into battle together as a fighting unit.

On November 21, 1917, Strube and fellow Artists were moved up to the front at Passchendaele Ridge where, days earlier, the third Battle of Ypres, better known as Passchendaele, had begun.

Conditions were deplorable. Heavy rain had fallen unceasingly. The continuing German barrage had destroyed the few remaining signs of road or tracks. The trenches and surrounding area had reverted to a porridge of mud. Mules and horses were known to have sunk beneath it with their loads.

Strube took his place in the front-line trenches, waiting to experience going over the top.

The objective was to cross the Paddebeeke, originally an insignificant streamlet but now a wide and almost impassable swamp. As the Artists advanced they suffered heavy casualties caused by intense machine-gun fire and continual artillery bombardment.

The battlefield, resembling a deep sea of mud, drowned many wounded men and clogged rifles and Lewis guns, rendering them entirely useless.

Strube was fortunate to have survived the initial advance but, having failed to cross the Paddebeeke, found himself stranded in no man's land with a number of other soldiers.

Attempting to retrace their steps they eventually became trapped in a deep shell hole.

As they sank to their waists in freezing mud, Strube and his comrades found themselves unable to haul themselves out.

It was not until the evening, under the cover of darkness, that a rescue party appeared, placing wooden duck-boards around the shell hole.

The rescuers fastened ropes to those trapped in the mud and pulled them out as quickly as they could. Having completed this arduous and dangerous rescue, the now exhausted and bedraggled survivors made their way back as quickly as they could to the relative safety of the British trenches.

A bullet from an enemy sniper instantly killed one of the rescued soldiers, but it did little to speed the men up. Many, including Strube, hobbled back in bare feet, having lost their socks and boots in the thick mud of the shell hole.

Being in action and experiencing the horrors of war at first hand did not deter Strube from drawing at every opportunity.

It was known that he planned to produce a book on the war, having already produced a number of rough sketches. These were kept in his backpack, which he proudly referred to as his 'studio'. Strube sent his paper a number of pocket cartoons from the front, some of which they published.

He also wrote long letters home to his mother which were always illustrated with coloured caricatures of himself. He drew himself in his letters as a round faced, snub nosed, never say die British soldier.

This developed into a character that he drew to amuse his comrades and which was christened by them the 'Nark'. It would later develop into his most famous and successful allegorical creation, the Little Man.

The Artists were expected to advance again once the weather had improved. As Strube waited for days in the driving cold rain and mud, he developed a high fever and headache as well as aching muscles. A medical orderly was called for and diagnosed Strube as having trench fever. Almost delirious, he was ordered out of the line.

On December 23, 1917, Strube was hospitalised. He was too ill to notice that his pack containing the sketches for his war book had been left behind in the trench where he had been taken ill. They were never seen again.

When his regiment eventually advanced once more, nearly all the Artists were wiped out. Contracting trench fever most probably saved his life, although it was to permanently affect his heart. When Strube's health had recovered sufficiently enough to travel, he returned to Blighty on February 28, 1918, for further treatment and tests at the Military Heart Hospital in Colchester. There it was discovered he was suffering from an irregular action of the heart. The doctors believed that this had been brought on by the trench fever.

In the locker next to his bed in the ward Strube kept a Colman's mustard tin containing what he called his 'Flanders' Mud'; a memento of his brief adventures at the Front.

He had often used mud as a tool for drawing when he found himself short of ink or pencils.

A week after arriving at the hospital, Strube noticed that his old Colman's mustard tin had vanished from his locker.

Clearly distressed, Strube immediately complained to the nursing sisters who found that an orderly, who had the day before been clearing lockers out in the wards, had thrown the tin away because it was in a "filthy disgusting state".

When this was explained to Strube by a nurse, he objected: "But that's my Flanders mud", and without another word rushed out of the back of the hospital to where the refuse bins were in order to retrieve the tin.

Strube was delighted when he found it amongst the rubbish. He pulled it out and caressed it with eager fingers, grateful that he had been reunited with his precious Flanders mud and the poignant memories it conjured up for him.

Strube finally left hospital on June 10, 1918, and was sent back to Gidea Park in his previous capacity as an instructor. There he remained until he returned to the Daily Express when the war ended. According to Strube: "I was demobilised as a Sergeant of the Artist Rifles and rushed back to 'Civy Street' Quite joyfully!"

On December 6, 1918, Strube's first cartoon appeared after an absence of just over three years. The paper published the headline 'STRUBE COMES BACK' with an article by Strube illustrated by a cartoon of himself in uniform.

It read: "My finest experience in the war has been to get away from it at last and return to the Daily Express office. No more reveille at 6.30am; no more duty as orderly sergeant; no more tin hat, rifle, and 1,000lb Pack; no more mud; no more whizz-bangs or bombs!

"What a change it is to leave the noise and the dirt of war and return to the quiet and cleanliness of the newspaper office! And yet newspaper offices are not the quietest places in the world. Soon after I entered the Daily Express office the great printing machines began rumbling in the basement.

"I found myself dashing down the stairs for the dug out. My next shock was when I was about to go off for a month's holiday before resuming work - the Editor suggested that I should try my hand at a cartoon.

"An elephant may be able to pick up a pin with his trunk, but how can a soldier draw cartoons with a pen, after wielding a three-hundredweight rifle for more than three years? I return to my desk, and here, I find the same old pen in the same old place! I find, however, that I want to shoulder arms with it - and you can't shoulder arms with a pen.

"I break myself in with a little bayonet-practice at the paper, and gradually recover the lost art of drawing. But how much easier it is to learn to drill with a rifle than to draw a cartoon with a pen!"

Sadly Strube left the Express in 1948 following a clash with its new editor Arthur Christiansen but continued to work freelance for The Sunday Times, Time & Tide, Everybody's and Tatler. Later, he was made a Freeman of the City of London. He continued to produce cartoons and advertising work for the likes of Guinness as late as April 1955. He died of heart failure at his home in Golders Green, London, on March 4, 1956, aged 63.