During the second world war, Richard Dewing made a trip from his home in England across the North Sea to become the allies’ head of mission to Denmark. His goal? To prevent the occupied country, which had been neutral until the Nazis invaded in 1940, from turning into a battlefield.
Maj Gen Dewing liaised with locals, kept the peace, became friendly with the Danish royal family and, upon hearing that surrender was imminent, helped mastermind the liberation of Denmark.
“It was a hugely stressful time,” said Dewing’s granddaughter, Caroline Jones. But he did find one way of taking his mind off the pressure: horse-riding “as a form of decompression”, she added.
So, when he returned home after the liberation of Denmark in 1945, Dewing’s Danish friends sought to express their gratitude by dispatching to his sleepy home in the village of Lidgate, Suffolk, an enormous thoroughbred known playfully as Lillebror (Little brother).
“One day, Lillebror arrived at the gate of the rambling old rectory where he lived,” said Jones. Dewing had ridden Lillebror during the war – the horse was too big for most riders, but as a tall man, he had been assigned to ride him and the two got along well.
In Lidgate, however, it was a slightly different story: as appreciative as he was of the diplomatic gesture, Dewing wasn’t sure what to do with Lillebror. “It was already a busy home, with children and dogs everywhere, and now a horse,” said Jones.
The horse was too big for any of the children to ride, but Dewing, by then working as a market gardener, exercised him when he could and stabled him in an outbuilding. “The horse joined him at work as a market gardener too, pulling the plough and mowing the lawn of the old rectory,” said Jones.
In the fullness of time, Lillebror died. Dewing was content with his life pottering around the garden. Then in 1954 he was visited by a Danish journalist for a story commemorating Denmark’s liberation.
Jones said: “The man asked, straight off the bat: ‘How’s the horse?’ My grandfather told him: ‘Sadly, he died’ – and the man looked appalled.” Unbeknownst to Dewing, the journalist wrote an article about the sad demise of Lillebror for the Danish magazine Se og Hør (See and Hear). It stirred such emotions in the Danish public that they launched an appeal to raise money for a new horse.
A few weeks later, Storebror (Big Brother) arrived in Lidgate, said Jones, recounting the story publicly for the first time. “Family folklore has it that grandpa was mowing the lawn on a Monday afternoon when a horsebox pulled up and my grandpa just muttered: ‘Oh Lord!’”
To Dewing’s alarm, but his daughter’s delight, Storebror was a second thoroughbred, already named, trained and broken in. He arrived with a note from Prince Knud, the uncle of the then princess, now Queen Margrethe, explaining that his Danish friends had clubbed together to buy him another horse.
“Neighbours from [the nearby horse-racing hub of] Newmarket rallied around with offers of assistance but Grandpa was in his 60s by then, and this was another, even bigger, horse that needed even more exercise,” said Jones. “Just mucking out took a whole morning and Grandpa had no time for his vegetables.”
So Dewing decided to give Storebror to a girl locally who loved to ride. After this, it seems, the Danes got the hint. They sent Dewing a plaque to commemorate all he had done instead. After the liberation, they had already shown their gratitude through a formal ceremony where Dewing was given the Grand Cross of the Order of the Dannebrog – and a lifetime’s supply of Carlsberg.
But the Danish royals, with whom Dewing had met frequently as part of his duties, continued to write to Dewing on the anniversary of Denmark’s liberation. After the death of Frederik IX in 1972, Margrethe became queen of Denmark and carried on the tradition.
At the time of his stint in Denmark, Margrethe “was just five years old and Grandpa was always nice to her as he had a young daughter around the same age at home, so the families became friends,” said Jones. The young princess went on to serve on the Danish throne for more than 50 years, and is to abdicate in favour of her son on Sunday.
When Dewing eventually died in 1981, aged 90, the family received condolences from the Danish military and Queen Margrethe. “Our family has had a soft spot for Margrethe and Denmark ever since,” said Jones. “I’m so grateful for all the appreciation they showed my grandfather. Though we definitely don’t need another horse.”
