The Sign written by Fredric Manning in 1917.
It’s not as famous as ‘The Trenches’ but it is still very good.
The Sign
We are here in a wood of little beeches:
And the leaves are like black lace
Against a sky of nacre.
One bough of clear promise
Across the moon.
It is in this wise that God speaketh unto me.
He layeth hands of healing upon my flesh,
Stilling it in an eternal peace,
Until my soul reaches out myriad and infinite hands
Toward him,
And is eased of its hunger.
And I know that this passes:
This implacable fury and torment of men,
As a thing insensate and vain:
And the stillness hath said unto me,
Over the tumult of sounds and shaken flame,
Out of the terrible beauty of wrath,
I alone am eternal.
One bough of clear promise
Across the moon.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Jam, Cheese and Tea.
Here’s an article from the Times dated 15th October 1917 about supplying the Army with the essentials of Jam, Cheese and Tea.
The amounts that are quoted are gigantic but these reports did keep the public informed what was required whilst they felt the ‘tight belt’ of rationing.
The jam supplied was not always welcomed, as the Australian poet Edward Dyson so well portrayed in his humorous poem “Jam (A Hymn of Hate).”
“FEEDING THE ARMY
THE SOLDIER’S JAM, CHEESE AND TEA.
Although at present housekeepers at home are finding some difficulty in getting supplies of such articles of food as bacon. Butter, margarine, sugar and tea, they will have no other feeling but one of pleasure that our soldiers at the front have never fared better that they are doing to-day.
From an authoritative source we learn that the soldier’s rations made up of about two dozen articles of food. Meat and bread are the chief items but the are supplemented by cheese, bacon, jam and many other things not leaving out rum, the value of which as an antidote to damp and cold, first learned by our experience in the Crimea, has been confirmed by three winters in France and Flanders.
In supplying the Armies with food whole industries have had to reorganised, business methods drastically revised, and the resources of the Empire mobilized in a remarkable manner. In the case of jam the manufactures, who are working in cooperation, are supplied by sugar by the Government and the Government also pays the actual cost of packing and delivery to and from the works and of the fruit. The fruit id bought by the manufactures jointly after mutual agreement as to the prices offered. The manufacturer realizes his profit on a fixed rate paid per 100lb.
TWO MILLION POUNDS OF JAM A WEEK.
Packing has been a difficulty. At first tins were used, but tin is scare and the jam is now packed in ‘papier mache’ containers. Nearly two million ponds of jam are sent to France every week and in April this year the contacts department of the War Office had ordered 260,000,000 lb. Twelve kinds are issued, among which strawberry now preponderates.
A daily cheese ration of 3 oz. had meant, up to the beginning of this year, the purchase of 167,000,000 and between one and two million pounds of chesses are being sent every week to the Army in France alone. With the exception of Dutch cheese, this is chiefly obtained from the Board of Trade’s purchases in Canada and New Zealand.
The supply of the soldier’s tea, of which the daily ration is just over half an ounce, is remarkable for the extent to which the army has been called on to take the business of the tea merchant into its own hands. Originally the Contracts branch bought tea blended and packed ready for issue to the troops. At a later stage the tea was brought where it lay, collected by Army transport and blended under a centralized system. This arrangement prevailed until recently, when a further rise in freights induced the War Office to import their own tea, placing orders directly with the growers in India and Ceylon and arranging for transport with the Admiralty. In this way the War Office has assumed the whole of the function of the tea-merchant. More than half a million pounds of tea are sent weekly to the Army in France. Before the War Office became its own tea merchant, single orders for a million pounds were no uncommon thing. The demand has grown with the growth of the Armies and the War Office has modified or change4d its methods as developments required.”
The amounts that are quoted are gigantic but these reports did keep the public informed what was required whilst they felt the ‘tight belt’ of rationing.
The jam supplied was not always welcomed, as the Australian poet Edward Dyson so well portrayed in his humorous poem “Jam (A Hymn of Hate).”
“FEEDING THE ARMY
THE SOLDIER’S JAM, CHEESE AND TEA.
Although at present housekeepers at home are finding some difficulty in getting supplies of such articles of food as bacon. Butter, margarine, sugar and tea, they will have no other feeling but one of pleasure that our soldiers at the front have never fared better that they are doing to-day.
From an authoritative source we learn that the soldier’s rations made up of about two dozen articles of food. Meat and bread are the chief items but the are supplemented by cheese, bacon, jam and many other things not leaving out rum, the value of which as an antidote to damp and cold, first learned by our experience in the Crimea, has been confirmed by three winters in France and Flanders.
In supplying the Armies with food whole industries have had to reorganised, business methods drastically revised, and the resources of the Empire mobilized in a remarkable manner. In the case of jam the manufactures, who are working in cooperation, are supplied by sugar by the Government and the Government also pays the actual cost of packing and delivery to and from the works and of the fruit. The fruit id bought by the manufactures jointly after mutual agreement as to the prices offered. The manufacturer realizes his profit on a fixed rate paid per 100lb.
TWO MILLION POUNDS OF JAM A WEEK.
Packing has been a difficulty. At first tins were used, but tin is scare and the jam is now packed in ‘papier mache’ containers. Nearly two million ponds of jam are sent to France every week and in April this year the contacts department of the War Office had ordered 260,000,000 lb. Twelve kinds are issued, among which strawberry now preponderates.
A daily cheese ration of 3 oz. had meant, up to the beginning of this year, the purchase of 167,000,000 and between one and two million pounds of chesses are being sent every week to the Army in France alone. With the exception of Dutch cheese, this is chiefly obtained from the Board of Trade’s purchases in Canada and New Zealand.
The supply of the soldier’s tea, of which the daily ration is just over half an ounce, is remarkable for the extent to which the army has been called on to take the business of the tea merchant into its own hands. Originally the Contracts branch bought tea blended and packed ready for issue to the troops. At a later stage the tea was brought where it lay, collected by Army transport and blended under a centralized system. This arrangement prevailed until recently, when a further rise in freights induced the War Office to import their own tea, placing orders directly with the growers in India and Ceylon and arranging for transport with the Admiralty. In this way the War Office has assumed the whole of the function of the tea-merchant. More than half a million pounds of tea are sent weekly to the Army in France. Before the War Office became its own tea merchant, single orders for a million pounds were no uncommon thing. The demand has grown with the growth of the Armies and the War Office has modified or change4d its methods as developments required.”
Friday, October 24, 2008
Boy Scouts Collect Cigarettes and Tobacco.
I cannot imagine this happening today but back in 1914, the Boy Scouts took great pride in collecting cigarettes and tobacco for the troops.
This ‘politically incorrect’ article comes from the Eastbourne Gazette dated 28th October 1914.
SMOKES FOR THE ROYAL SUSSEX REGIMENT AT THE FRONT
The 4th Eastbourne Scout Troop of Boy Scouts under Scoutmaster Read, have continued their collection of cigarettes and tobacco for our men at the Front with great success. In response to their appeal in the main streets of the town, upwards of 9,000 cigarettes and nearly 200 ounces of tobacco have been contributed by the public. This parcel (which will, no doubt be very welcome to our brave soldiers fighting in Northern France) is being sent direct to the Royal Sussex Regiment which has already done such magnificent service.
The Eastbourne Scouts are very anxious to keep up the supply of the ever welcomed weed to the county regiment. Contributions of tobacco and cigarettes will be most thankfully received and forwarded through the Assistant County Commissioner from the headquarters, Town Hall, Eastbourne.
This ‘politically incorrect’ article comes from the Eastbourne Gazette dated 28th October 1914.
SMOKES FOR THE ROYAL SUSSEX REGIMENT AT THE FRONT
The 4th Eastbourne Scout Troop of Boy Scouts under Scoutmaster Read, have continued their collection of cigarettes and tobacco for our men at the Front with great success. In response to their appeal in the main streets of the town, upwards of 9,000 cigarettes and nearly 200 ounces of tobacco have been contributed by the public. This parcel (which will, no doubt be very welcome to our brave soldiers fighting in Northern France) is being sent direct to the Royal Sussex Regiment which has already done such magnificent service.
The Eastbourne Scouts are very anxious to keep up the supply of the ever welcomed weed to the county regiment. Contributions of tobacco and cigarettes will be most thankfully received and forwarded through the Assistant County Commissioner from the headquarters, Town Hall, Eastbourne.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A Story of the Kaiser
This is a gem of a story from The Eastbourne Gazette on 19th August 1914.
Apparently the Great War can be put down to an Eastbourne toy maker giving in to the spoilt demands of a young Kaiser. If only he had made the Kaiser wait perhaps he would have leant his lesson and not have been so intent on global domination!
I love all the stories that came out at the beginning of the war.
A Story of the Kaiser
Speaking at a meeting of Sunday school scholars and workers on Sunday afternoon at South Street Church. Mr. George Brown related an incident which ought to interest all Eastbournians at the present time.
Some years ago a young Prince (a cousin of the Kaiser) was spending some time at the Cavendish Hotel. Some friends in Eastbourne had presented the Prince with a beautiful toy yacht which he highly treasured. While the young Prince was staying there his cousin the Kaiser came over to stay a few weeks in Eastbourne. When he saw his cousin’s yacht he became jealous and wanted to fight him for it. This came to the ears of those who had presented it to the Prince, they decided for the sake of peace, to give the Kaiser a similar yacht made by the same man and they had arranged to make the presentation on a certain Monday afternoon. The young Kaiser heard all about it and insisted on his tutor taking him on the previous Sunday afternoon to see the new yacht. On arriving at the maker’s house, the tutor explained that the Kaiser gave them no peace; he was too impatient to wait until Monday afternoon and he must have the yacht at once. They gave it to him so there was no public presentation.
Mr. Brown pointed out the moral; that what was in the boy was also in him when he became a man. As a boy the Kaiser was jealous and impatient and would fight for toys that did not belong to him. He was manifesting the same spirit today.
Apparently the Great War can be put down to an Eastbourne toy maker giving in to the spoilt demands of a young Kaiser. If only he had made the Kaiser wait perhaps he would have leant his lesson and not have been so intent on global domination!
I love all the stories that came out at the beginning of the war.
A Story of the Kaiser
Speaking at a meeting of Sunday school scholars and workers on Sunday afternoon at South Street Church. Mr. George Brown related an incident which ought to interest all Eastbournians at the present time.
Some years ago a young Prince (a cousin of the Kaiser) was spending some time at the Cavendish Hotel. Some friends in Eastbourne had presented the Prince with a beautiful toy yacht which he highly treasured. While the young Prince was staying there his cousin the Kaiser came over to stay a few weeks in Eastbourne. When he saw his cousin’s yacht he became jealous and wanted to fight him for it. This came to the ears of those who had presented it to the Prince, they decided for the sake of peace, to give the Kaiser a similar yacht made by the same man and they had arranged to make the presentation on a certain Monday afternoon. The young Kaiser heard all about it and insisted on his tutor taking him on the previous Sunday afternoon to see the new yacht. On arriving at the maker’s house, the tutor explained that the Kaiser gave them no peace; he was too impatient to wait until Monday afternoon and he must have the yacht at once. They gave it to him so there was no public presentation.
Mr. Brown pointed out the moral; that what was in the boy was also in him when he became a man. As a boy the Kaiser was jealous and impatient and would fight for toys that did not belong to him. He was manifesting the same spirit today.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Syrup in place of sugar.
With sugar in short supply and rationing taking effect novel ways of creating your own sweeteners were published. The Times published this letter which gives full instruction of how to cook your own sweet syrup from white beetroot.
It all seems rather long winded and time consuming today but in the middle of the war any method of beating rationing was welcomed.
SYRUP IN PLACE OF SUGAR
TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES
Sir, - Those who have had any difficulty in keeping down to the prescribed amount of sugar or in getting that amount and have some garden space beyond what they need for potatoes, may be glad to dispense with sugar altogether till the end of the war. This they can do by making in their kitchen a strong aqueous solution of sucrose or syrup from white beetroot. Such a syrup, rightly made, has scarcely any taste but the sweet taste and can be used not only for cooking but even where the sense of taste is daintier, with tea and coffee.
Here is a recipe for the right making on a convenient scale which any cook can follow and needing only the use of ordinary kitchen appliances. First, grow or, for immediate use, get your beetroot. Any of the well-known seedsmen will supply seeds of the best sugar variety. Cut off most of the green top and wash without breaking the outer skin. Boil for an hour, more or less, according to the size of the beet. Remove the rest of the top and the outer skin, which now comes off easily, with the fingers. Weigh out 1 lb. Scrape each beet in turn with vegetable grater. The heap thus formed must be handled lightly so that little strips may remain separate. Heat 2 ½ pints of water to boiling in a saucepan about 6ins across and drop the beet into it. Heat again and boil gently for half an hour. Keep the cove on guarding against frothing over. Filter the contents through a jelly-bag and squeezes them, collecting the syrup in a bowl. Repeat the operation; or take 2 lb of beet and 4 pints of water. The 5 pints of week syrup got thus will be acid and must be made alkaline. A thimble full of bicarbonate of potash dropped into the syrup effects this. Return the liquid to the saucepan and heat to boiling. At first there is frothing. When this is past boil strongly with the saucepan uncovered till half the water is boiled away. Take the temperature with a cook’s thermometer and let it rise to 217 deg Fahr. It is then to be poured while still hot into a wine bottle which has been heated with water or in the oven to a similar temperature. Cork well. The syrup is then sterilized and will keep. A dessert spoonful is equal to a lump of sugar.
Yours faithfully,
A. Vernon Harcourt.
St. Clare,
Ryde,
Isle of Wight.
It all seems rather long winded and time consuming today but in the middle of the war any method of beating rationing was welcomed.
SYRUP IN PLACE OF SUGAR
TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES
Sir, - Those who have had any difficulty in keeping down to the prescribed amount of sugar or in getting that amount and have some garden space beyond what they need for potatoes, may be glad to dispense with sugar altogether till the end of the war. This they can do by making in their kitchen a strong aqueous solution of sucrose or syrup from white beetroot. Such a syrup, rightly made, has scarcely any taste but the sweet taste and can be used not only for cooking but even where the sense of taste is daintier, with tea and coffee.
Here is a recipe for the right making on a convenient scale which any cook can follow and needing only the use of ordinary kitchen appliances. First, grow or, for immediate use, get your beetroot. Any of the well-known seedsmen will supply seeds of the best sugar variety. Cut off most of the green top and wash without breaking the outer skin. Boil for an hour, more or less, according to the size of the beet. Remove the rest of the top and the outer skin, which now comes off easily, with the fingers. Weigh out 1 lb. Scrape each beet in turn with vegetable grater. The heap thus formed must be handled lightly so that little strips may remain separate. Heat 2 ½ pints of water to boiling in a saucepan about 6ins across and drop the beet into it. Heat again and boil gently for half an hour. Keep the cove on guarding against frothing over. Filter the contents through a jelly-bag and squeezes them, collecting the syrup in a bowl. Repeat the operation; or take 2 lb of beet and 4 pints of water. The 5 pints of week syrup got thus will be acid and must be made alkaline. A thimble full of bicarbonate of potash dropped into the syrup effects this. Return the liquid to the saucepan and heat to boiling. At first there is frothing. When this is past boil strongly with the saucepan uncovered till half the water is boiled away. Take the temperature with a cook’s thermometer and let it rise to 217 deg Fahr. It is then to be poured while still hot into a wine bottle which has been heated with water or in the oven to a similar temperature. Cork well. The syrup is then sterilized and will keep. A dessert spoonful is equal to a lump of sugar.
Yours faithfully,
A. Vernon Harcourt.
St. Clare,
Ryde,
Isle of Wight.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Food Shortages?
This little article appeared in the Eastbourne Gazette on 19th August 1914. It is interesting how the newspaper prepared the public for the food shortages ahead.
To say that supplies from Germany and Denmark were cut off is perhaps an understatement as England was now at war with them!
FOOD SUPPLIES – FACTS FOR EASTBOURNE HOUSEHOLDERS
Supplies of butter and eggs from Germany, Russia and Denmark are cut off. In ordinary times 100,000 cwts. Of butter is imported every week from Denmark and Russia. Supplies of New Zealand and Australian butter begin in October and end in May.
Russia, a large sugar producing country can send nothing at present. The German and Austrian beet used by English refiners is no longer available. The chief sources of sugar supply now available are Cuba and the British West Indies; but the United States have the first call on Cuba. Probably the English refiners have already sold more sugar than they can manufacture with the stock of beet available.
To say that supplies from Germany and Denmark were cut off is perhaps an understatement as England was now at war with them!
FOOD SUPPLIES – FACTS FOR EASTBOURNE HOUSEHOLDERS
Supplies of butter and eggs from Germany, Russia and Denmark are cut off. In ordinary times 100,000 cwts. Of butter is imported every week from Denmark and Russia. Supplies of New Zealand and Australian butter begin in October and end in May.
Russia, a large sugar producing country can send nothing at present. The German and Austrian beet used by English refiners is no longer available. The chief sources of sugar supply now available are Cuba and the British West Indies; but the United States have the first call on Cuba. Probably the English refiners have already sold more sugar than they can manufacture with the stock of beet available.
Friday, October 17, 2008
To The British Army by R. Gorell Barnes
This stirring poem was published in The Times on 22nd August 1914.
Recalling England’s military glories of the past and encouraging the Nation to stand 'Neath the banner of the Right’.
TO THE BRITISH ARMY
British soldiers, once again
Ye are marshalled on the plain
By our fathers' blood renowned;
Ye are treading sacred ground!
Hearken, hearken as ye pass
To the voices in the grass!
On the Belgian soil it waves
O'er the lone, unnumbered graves
Where immortal warriors lie,
Devotees of Liberty,
Nobly fallen in the fray.
Ramillies and Malplaquet,
Quatre Bras and Waterloo
Yield their legions up to you!
British soldiers, ye will fight
'Neath the banner of the Right:
Ye are holding in your hands
Liberty of little lands,
Seeking nothing, giving all,
Answering to Honour's call,
Stay Aggression's grim attack!
Hurl the impious menace back!
Devotees of Liberty,
Ride ye now to victory!
We in England watch and pray: --
Ramillies and Malplaquet,
Quatre Bras and Waterloo
Yield their soul to strengthen you!
R. GORELL BARNES
(Ronald Gorell Barnes, 3rd Baron Gorell (16 April 1884–2 May 1963), was a British peer, Liberal politician and newspaper editor.
Gorell was the second son of John Gorell Barnes, 1st Baron Gorell, a Judge of the High Court of Justice. He succeeded as third Baron Gorell in 1917 after his elder brother was killed in the First World War and took his seat on the Liberal benches in the House of Lords. In July 1921 he was appointed Under-Secretary of State for Air in the coalition government of David Lloyd George, an office he held until the government fell in October 1922. He was later Editor of the Cornhill Magazine from 1933 to 1939. He was co-President of the Detection Club with Agatha Christie from 1956 to 1963.)
Recalling England’s military glories of the past and encouraging the Nation to stand 'Neath the banner of the Right’.
TO THE BRITISH ARMY
British soldiers, once again
Ye are marshalled on the plain
By our fathers' blood renowned;
Ye are treading sacred ground!
Hearken, hearken as ye pass
To the voices in the grass!
On the Belgian soil it waves
O'er the lone, unnumbered graves
Where immortal warriors lie,
Devotees of Liberty,
Nobly fallen in the fray.
Ramillies and Malplaquet,
Quatre Bras and Waterloo
Yield their legions up to you!
British soldiers, ye will fight
'Neath the banner of the Right:
Ye are holding in your hands
Liberty of little lands,
Seeking nothing, giving all,
Answering to Honour's call,
Stay Aggression's grim attack!
Hurl the impious menace back!
Devotees of Liberty,
Ride ye now to victory!
We in England watch and pray: --
Ramillies and Malplaquet,
Quatre Bras and Waterloo
Yield their soul to strengthen you!
R. GORELL BARNES
(Ronald Gorell Barnes, 3rd Baron Gorell (16 April 1884–2 May 1963), was a British peer, Liberal politician and newspaper editor.
Gorell was the second son of John Gorell Barnes, 1st Baron Gorell, a Judge of the High Court of Justice. He succeeded as third Baron Gorell in 1917 after his elder brother was killed in the First World War and took his seat on the Liberal benches in the House of Lords. In July 1921 he was appointed Under-Secretary of State for Air in the coalition government of David Lloyd George, an office he held until the government fell in October 1922. He was later Editor of the Cornhill Magazine from 1933 to 1939. He was co-President of the Detection Club with Agatha Christie from 1956 to 1963.)
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Body Armour
The subject of Body Armour raised many a discussion during the Great War. This letter in The Times dated 17th July 1916, is an excellent example of the debate going on at the time.
"BODY ARMOUR
TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES
Sir, - I am glad you have taken up the subject of body armour. Thousands of lives have already been wasted, as the steel helmets have proven, could have been saved. The French led the way with steel helmets; let us hope we shall lead the way with steel body shields. I believe experiments have been made with specially prepared metal for this purpose and that there is one at present on sale at all leading stores which the colonial troops are using. I have some letters from soldiers testifying that this shield saved their lives. Surely the Government might supply these shields free to our troops. At present it appears relatives purchase these and send them to the boys at the front. If this matter is ventilated in your columns it is not too much to be hoped that the authorities may be adjured to furnish adequate supplies of reliable body armour.
Yours truly,
Edward J. Formby.
Kensington-Place Mansions,
De Vere Gardens
Hyde Park
London
July 14th."
"BODY ARMOUR
TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES
Sir, - I am glad you have taken up the subject of body armour. Thousands of lives have already been wasted, as the steel helmets have proven, could have been saved. The French led the way with steel helmets; let us hope we shall lead the way with steel body shields. I believe experiments have been made with specially prepared metal for this purpose and that there is one at present on sale at all leading stores which the colonial troops are using. I have some letters from soldiers testifying that this shield saved their lives. Surely the Government might supply these shields free to our troops. At present it appears relatives purchase these and send them to the boys at the front. If this matter is ventilated in your columns it is not too much to be hoped that the authorities may be adjured to furnish adequate supplies of reliable body armour.
Yours truly,
Edward J. Formby.
Kensington-Place Mansions,
De Vere Gardens
Hyde Park
London
July 14th."
Friday, October 10, 2008
'Human Armadillos' - Body Armour in the War.
This great article from The Great War in a Different Light come originally from the “War Budget” in June 1917.
Under the title “'Human Armadillos' Back to the Middle Ages in More Ways than One” it looked at the speculation surrounding body armour.
'Human Armadillos' - Back to the Middle Ages in More Ways than One.
“This reminds one of a visit to the Tower of London," said a member of a shopping expedition, struck by the displays of breastplates, helmets, knee-caps and masks in the West End windows. History, it seems, will never get tired of repeating itself, though scarce a minute passes that is not the dawn of a new idea. It has often been noted that one has but to keep a garment long enough to find it again at the apex of fashion. So with the shield and buckler of Assyria, Greece, and Rome.
Luckily for the newspapers history's repetitions are rarely wearisome but often crowded with variety. The body armour of the middle ages was a rich man's luxury, to be as carefully preserved as the family plate.
The sartorial blacksmith's bill for a reliable suit of chain mail ran into four figures — at the present value of £1 sterling — and had to be ordered "for delivery before the next war." Prior to the invention of chain armour it was no uncommon experience for a knight, besieged in his iron skin, to die of suffocation, after resisting all the prods of his enemy's tin openers. This season's wear is far less expensive than a Paris gown and almost as light.
Bullets Miss Their Billets
Statistics of the present war prove the great importance of providing armour for soldiers — especially helmets. Fourteen per cent, of the wounds received by trench fighters are head wounds. When heads are protected by helmets very few such wounds are said to be fatal. The helmet often turns aside bullets that strike it, and even when they do penetrate the steel head covering the force of the missile is often retarded to such an extent that only a superficial scalp wound is inflicted.
A European firm has developed a fabric which, although of light weight, is said to astonish everybody who has had the opportunity of testing its impenetrability. It is being made into shields of two types: First, the single shield, which is worn in front and serves to protect the wearer from bullets; second, double shield for protecting the chest and back. With regard to the latter type it has been found in the present war that some protection for the soldier's back is necessary because of the high percentage of casualties arising from flying shrapnel.
A pad of fabric is incased in an outer covering of khaki fabric, the former being a booklike section with several plaits to the inch, chemically treated after it is made up and the whole inserted within the outer jacket and sewed up. A test was made on a shield placed against an empty carbide tin with a view to demonstrating the ability of the fabric to protect airplane tanks and other equipment. Although two bullets struck the shield on the tin, neither of these succeeded in penetrating the shield. The only damage to the tin was in the form of slight indentations.
Defeating the Rifle
A military observer who had the opportunity of examining two bullets that were fired from a service revolver at eight paces, with a bullet velocity of 750 feet per second, at one of the fabric shields, said that the lead bullets plainly showed the fabric markings on their mashed noses, demonstrating that the fabric was the last thing struck by them before they -came to a halt in the folds of the shield.
Another firm has patented and is manufacturing a steel-lined officer's jacket which suggests the old coats of mail though in outward appearance it resembles an ordinary close-fitting coat.
Human Armadillos
It is claimed that the jacket will resist a .45-calibre revolver bullet at sixty feet.
The garments are fitted by experts and the highly-tempered steel with which they are lined is said to be so evenly distributed that the slight additional weight is not apparent to the wearer. This jacket is designed to afford protection against shrapnel fragments.
Armoured Ambulances
A bullet-proof stretcher has also been invented. This consists of a long metal shield, arched at the top, and high enough to enable the attendants to stand upright within. At the front end the shield is rounded and sloped backward to deflect bullets, and two "eyes" are provided, through which the attendants can see to direct their course and locate the wounded.
The whole contrivance is mounted on four wheels, and is provided with arrangements for supporting a stretcher. With this contrivance two hospital attendants can make their way in safety over a field exposed to rifle fire, and, after rolling the shield over a wounded soldier, he is placed on the stretcher, when a retreat is made to a place of safety.
Only after careful consideration and experiments, resulting in conclusive proof that armour could and would save the lives of soldiers was such protection re-introduced into the French army.
Thin armour such as is worn cannot deflect or stop a bullet coming at high velocity from a modern rifle, but it has been proved by statistics carefully gathered that many wounds are more or less superficial, or that the bullets were almost spent when they reached the soldiers. Besides, wounds from shrapnel are not always direct or of great force, but frequently reach the soldiers at an angle and with diminished power.
Utility of the Helmet
It has been found also that since some of the French soldiers have been wearing metal helmets and other metal protection the number of wounded has increased while the number killed has diminished. This would tend to show that these attempts at protecting soldiers have saved many lives, and that if the vital spots are covered a soldier's chance of surviving is increased manifold, perhaps 50 to 75 per cent.
There are on record many cases in which a bullet has been turned aside by a metal helmet to such a degree as to inflict only a slight scalp wound, and without the arresting power of the metal the soldier would certainly have been killed.
A rifle bullet coming at full speed often passes through a leg, arm or body, and it is not expected that the armour worn will stop such bullets, but it has been proved that the armour does often aid in decreasing the speed of a slow bullet or bit of shrapnel, either preventing a mortal wound or stopping the projectile altogether.
Results of experiments have been reported to the French Academies of Medicine and Surgery, with the result that every effort is now being made to equip all of the artillery and infantry with as much of this armour as can be manufactured in the rush of munitions making.
The armour to be adopted by the United States War Department is said to be a modification of the medieval suits of mail, and is described as being composed of small rectangular steel plates fastened together at their corners by steel rings. This forms a flexible sheet which, in turn, is riveted to strong khaki cloth. In the centre of this steel sheet or mail is a hole through which the soldier passes his head. The sheet of armour is long enough entirely to cover the front and back of the trunk of the body. To protect the neck and head a "collarette" of the same construction is worn. With the addition of a helmet the modern warrior, excepting the arms, legs and face, is made bullet-proof to a very high degree.
Under the title “'Human Armadillos' Back to the Middle Ages in More Ways than One” it looked at the speculation surrounding body armour.
'Human Armadillos' - Back to the Middle Ages in More Ways than One.
“This reminds one of a visit to the Tower of London," said a member of a shopping expedition, struck by the displays of breastplates, helmets, knee-caps and masks in the West End windows. History, it seems, will never get tired of repeating itself, though scarce a minute passes that is not the dawn of a new idea. It has often been noted that one has but to keep a garment long enough to find it again at the apex of fashion. So with the shield and buckler of Assyria, Greece, and Rome.
Luckily for the newspapers history's repetitions are rarely wearisome but often crowded with variety. The body armour of the middle ages was a rich man's luxury, to be as carefully preserved as the family plate.
The sartorial blacksmith's bill for a reliable suit of chain mail ran into four figures — at the present value of £1 sterling — and had to be ordered "for delivery before the next war." Prior to the invention of chain armour it was no uncommon experience for a knight, besieged in his iron skin, to die of suffocation, after resisting all the prods of his enemy's tin openers. This season's wear is far less expensive than a Paris gown and almost as light.
Bullets Miss Their Billets
Statistics of the present war prove the great importance of providing armour for soldiers — especially helmets. Fourteen per cent, of the wounds received by trench fighters are head wounds. When heads are protected by helmets very few such wounds are said to be fatal. The helmet often turns aside bullets that strike it, and even when they do penetrate the steel head covering the force of the missile is often retarded to such an extent that only a superficial scalp wound is inflicted.
A European firm has developed a fabric which, although of light weight, is said to astonish everybody who has had the opportunity of testing its impenetrability. It is being made into shields of two types: First, the single shield, which is worn in front and serves to protect the wearer from bullets; second, double shield for protecting the chest and back. With regard to the latter type it has been found in the present war that some protection for the soldier's back is necessary because of the high percentage of casualties arising from flying shrapnel.
A pad of fabric is incased in an outer covering of khaki fabric, the former being a booklike section with several plaits to the inch, chemically treated after it is made up and the whole inserted within the outer jacket and sewed up. A test was made on a shield placed against an empty carbide tin with a view to demonstrating the ability of the fabric to protect airplane tanks and other equipment. Although two bullets struck the shield on the tin, neither of these succeeded in penetrating the shield. The only damage to the tin was in the form of slight indentations.
Defeating the Rifle
A military observer who had the opportunity of examining two bullets that were fired from a service revolver at eight paces, with a bullet velocity of 750 feet per second, at one of the fabric shields, said that the lead bullets plainly showed the fabric markings on their mashed noses, demonstrating that the fabric was the last thing struck by them before they -came to a halt in the folds of the shield.
Another firm has patented and is manufacturing a steel-lined officer's jacket which suggests the old coats of mail though in outward appearance it resembles an ordinary close-fitting coat.
Human Armadillos
It is claimed that the jacket will resist a .45-calibre revolver bullet at sixty feet.
The garments are fitted by experts and the highly-tempered steel with which they are lined is said to be so evenly distributed that the slight additional weight is not apparent to the wearer. This jacket is designed to afford protection against shrapnel fragments.
Armoured Ambulances
A bullet-proof stretcher has also been invented. This consists of a long metal shield, arched at the top, and high enough to enable the attendants to stand upright within. At the front end the shield is rounded and sloped backward to deflect bullets, and two "eyes" are provided, through which the attendants can see to direct their course and locate the wounded.
The whole contrivance is mounted on four wheels, and is provided with arrangements for supporting a stretcher. With this contrivance two hospital attendants can make their way in safety over a field exposed to rifle fire, and, after rolling the shield over a wounded soldier, he is placed on the stretcher, when a retreat is made to a place of safety.
Only after careful consideration and experiments, resulting in conclusive proof that armour could and would save the lives of soldiers was such protection re-introduced into the French army.
Thin armour such as is worn cannot deflect or stop a bullet coming at high velocity from a modern rifle, but it has been proved by statistics carefully gathered that many wounds are more or less superficial, or that the bullets were almost spent when they reached the soldiers. Besides, wounds from shrapnel are not always direct or of great force, but frequently reach the soldiers at an angle and with diminished power.
Utility of the Helmet
It has been found also that since some of the French soldiers have been wearing metal helmets and other metal protection the number of wounded has increased while the number killed has diminished. This would tend to show that these attempts at protecting soldiers have saved many lives, and that if the vital spots are covered a soldier's chance of surviving is increased manifold, perhaps 50 to 75 per cent.
There are on record many cases in which a bullet has been turned aside by a metal helmet to such a degree as to inflict only a slight scalp wound, and without the arresting power of the metal the soldier would certainly have been killed.
A rifle bullet coming at full speed often passes through a leg, arm or body, and it is not expected that the armour worn will stop such bullets, but it has been proved that the armour does often aid in decreasing the speed of a slow bullet or bit of shrapnel, either preventing a mortal wound or stopping the projectile altogether.
Results of experiments have been reported to the French Academies of Medicine and Surgery, with the result that every effort is now being made to equip all of the artillery and infantry with as much of this armour as can be manufactured in the rush of munitions making.
The armour to be adopted by the United States War Department is said to be a modification of the medieval suits of mail, and is described as being composed of small rectangular steel plates fastened together at their corners by steel rings. This forms a flexible sheet which, in turn, is riveted to strong khaki cloth. In the centre of this steel sheet or mail is a hole through which the soldier passes his head. The sheet of armour is long enough entirely to cover the front and back of the trunk of the body. To protect the neck and head a "collarette" of the same construction is worn. With the addition of a helmet the modern warrior, excepting the arms, legs and face, is made bullet-proof to a very high degree.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Sergeant Horace Railton Hayward, 9th Light Horse Regiment.
Private Horace Hayward enlisted on the 25th September 1914, aged 21.
He came from Surrey Hills, Victoria and was a carpenter by trade.
He embarked from Melbourne on 11th February 1915 on HMAT Karroo.
He was wounded on 27th August 1915 at Gallipoli, Hill 60.
Whilst convalescing in England, Private Hayward was involved in a dramatic rescue attempt of a drowning boy in London. This report was published in the times 28th August 1916.
He was wounded on 27th August 1915 at Gallipoli, Hill 60.
Whilst convalescing in England, Private Hayward was involved in a dramatic rescue attempt of a drowning boy in London. This report was published in the times 28th August 1916.
ANZAC’S ATTEMPT TO RESCUE A DROWNING BOY
An inquest was held a Lambeth yesterday on the body of a boy, aged seven, son of Fritz Bennesch, a German waiter interned in the Isle of Man.
Private Horace Railton Hayward of the Australian Imperial Forces, who stated that he was wounded at Gallipoli, said he was returning from Edmonton Hospital on top of a motor-omnibus when he saw the boy struggling in the Thames just by St.Thomas Hospital steps. He jumped off, ran to the Embankment, threw off his coat and dived in. The boy meanwhile had sunk and he went down after him but there was a strong tide and undercurrent and he had great difficulty in coming up to the surface himself. Eventually he swam to the middle of the river, where he was picked up by a boat.
The jury returned a verdict of “Accidental death” and added a rider praising Hayward’s gallantry and requesting the Coroner to bring it to the notice of the Royal Humane Society.
Sergeant Hayward survived the war and returned to Australia on 16th January 1919.
He died on 3rd August 1954 aged 59 and is buried in Elmore Cemetery, Victoria.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
The Reapers by Lauchlan Maclean Watt.
This poem was published in July 1916 just after the first day of the Somme offensive.
It gives a romantic view of death but I especially like the last four lines of the poem. It is easy to forget the deeds and the sacrifices made whilst “Walking life’s noisy ways.”
The Reapers
Red are the hands of the Reapers,
And the harvest is so white!
Red are the feet that are treading
The threshing floors by night:
And, on the young brows, dripping
AS with the dew of morn,
Deep rose-red are the woundings,
Like scars of a crown of thorns.
Tired, so many, with reaping, -
Tired with treading the grain,
Still they lie, in their sleeping,
Low in the Valley of Pain, -
Never again to be quaffing,
The joy of life, like wine;
Never again to laughing
In Youth’s glad hour divine.
Birds shall sing in the branches,
Children dance by the shore;
But they who share the red reaping
Shall come back never more.
Let whoso can forget them,
Walking life’s noisy ways;
We who have looked on the Reapers
Go quietly, all our days.
Lauchlan Maclean Watt C.F.
France 1916.
(He was born on 24th October 1867, and was educated at Edinburgh University, where he graduated M.A. in 1894 and B.D. in 1897. Licensed by the Presbytery of Dalkeith on 12th May 1896, he was ordained, on 7th April 1897, to Turriff, translated, on 12th February 1901, to Alloa and Tullibody, translated, on 16th February 1911, to St. Stephen's, Edinburgh, and translated, on 26th June 1923, to Glasgow Cathedral.
He retired, on 15th May 1934, to Kinloch, Lochcarron, Ross-shire.
He received the D.D. of Edinburgh University in 1920, and the LL.D. of Glasgow University in 1933. Dr. MacLean Watt was Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland in 1933.
During the First World War, he served as chaplain with the 7th Division. H.M. Government sent him as Commissioner to the United States and Canada in 1918. In his own Church, Dr. MacLean Watt held many important posts, all of which he filled with distinction. He wrote many books in prose and verse,)
It gives a romantic view of death but I especially like the last four lines of the poem. It is easy to forget the deeds and the sacrifices made whilst “Walking life’s noisy ways.”
The Reapers
Red are the hands of the Reapers,
And the harvest is so white!
Red are the feet that are treading
The threshing floors by night:
And, on the young brows, dripping
AS with the dew of morn,
Deep rose-red are the woundings,
Like scars of a crown of thorns.
Tired, so many, with reaping, -
Tired with treading the grain,
Still they lie, in their sleeping,
Low in the Valley of Pain, -
Never again to be quaffing,
The joy of life, like wine;
Never again to laughing
In Youth’s glad hour divine.
Birds shall sing in the branches,
Children dance by the shore;
But they who share the red reaping
Shall come back never more.
Let whoso can forget them,
Walking life’s noisy ways;
We who have looked on the Reapers
Go quietly, all our days.
Lauchlan Maclean Watt C.F.
France 1916.
(He was born on 24th October 1867, and was educated at Edinburgh University, where he graduated M.A. in 1894 and B.D. in 1897. Licensed by the Presbytery of Dalkeith on 12th May 1896, he was ordained, on 7th April 1897, to Turriff, translated, on 12th February 1901, to Alloa and Tullibody, translated, on 16th February 1911, to St. Stephen's, Edinburgh, and translated, on 26th June 1923, to Glasgow Cathedral.
He retired, on 15th May 1934, to Kinloch, Lochcarron, Ross-shire.
He received the D.D. of Edinburgh University in 1920, and the LL.D. of Glasgow University in 1933. Dr. MacLean Watt was Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland in 1933.
During the First World War, he served as chaplain with the 7th Division. H.M. Government sent him as Commissioner to the United States and Canada in 1918. In his own Church, Dr. MacLean Watt held many important posts, all of which he filled with distinction. He wrote many books in prose and verse,)
Monday, October 06, 2008
Patriotic Music and Miss Buckman
This article appeared in the Eastbourne Gazette on 19th August 1914.
I wonder what the famous Belgian airs were that the audience stood and sang ‘heartily’ with?
Miss Buckman was indeed a very famous opera singer and would have been a treat for any audience.
“Patriotic Music and Pictures
At Devonshire Park
Shown in the afternoon in conjunction with the vaudeville entertainment in the Pavilion and in the evening in the second part of the programme in the Floral Hall, the pictures of the French Fleet are arousing considerable interest this week. This film is a remarkably fine one and the evening is exhibited with full orchestral accompaniment.
Last Saturday evening there was a crowded audience in the Floral Hall when the great British Army and Navy film “For The King” was shown. During the evening the orchestra played the national airs of Belgium, Russia, France and England. The audience standing and singing heartily. The “Franco-British” march and the fantasias “Life on board the Dreadnought” were included in the programme. Miss Rosina Buckman (the New Zealand soprano) concluded a very successful week’s engagement, receiving double encores after each of her songs.”
Rosina Buckman (March 16, 1881-December 30, 1948) was a New Zealand soprano, and a professor of singing at the Royal Academy of Music. She was born in Blenheim, and studied in England at the Birmingham School of Music. She then returned to New Zealand, toured Australia and debut in London with La boheme at Covent Garden. She continued performing into the 1920s, and recorded prolifically.
For more info on miss Buckman:
http://www.nzetc.org/tm/scholarly/tei-Whi021Kota-t1-g1-t3.html
http://www.ourregion.co.nz/theregion.php?category=history&subcategory=Our+People&articleID=189
I wonder what the famous Belgian airs were that the audience stood and sang ‘heartily’ with?
Miss Buckman was indeed a very famous opera singer and would have been a treat for any audience.
“Patriotic Music and Pictures
At Devonshire Park
Shown in the afternoon in conjunction with the vaudeville entertainment in the Pavilion and in the evening in the second part of the programme in the Floral Hall, the pictures of the French Fleet are arousing considerable interest this week. This film is a remarkably fine one and the evening is exhibited with full orchestral accompaniment.
Last Saturday evening there was a crowded audience in the Floral Hall when the great British Army and Navy film “For The King” was shown. During the evening the orchestra played the national airs of Belgium, Russia, France and England. The audience standing and singing heartily. The “Franco-British” march and the fantasias “Life on board the Dreadnought” were included in the programme. Miss Rosina Buckman (the New Zealand soprano) concluded a very successful week’s engagement, receiving double encores after each of her songs.”
Rosina Buckman (March 16, 1881-December 30, 1948) was a New Zealand soprano, and a professor of singing at the Royal Academy of Music. She was born in Blenheim, and studied in England at the Birmingham School of Music. She then returned to New Zealand, toured Australia and debut in London with La boheme at Covent Garden. She continued performing into the 1920s, and recorded prolifically.
For more info on miss Buckman:
http://www.nzetc.org/tm/scholarly/tei-Whi021Kota-t1-g1-t3.html
http://www.ourregion.co.nz/theregion.php?category=history&subcategory=Our+People&articleID=189
Friday, October 03, 2008
Unredeemed by Edward Dyson
This is another excellent poem by Edward Dyson from “Hello Soldier”
Edward Dyson an almost forgotten First World War poet. He wrote some amazing poems. Some like Jam (a hymn of hate) are very funny other, like the Unredeemed below are powerful contemplative works that capture the tension between religion, suffering and experience.
UNREDEEMED.
I saw the Christ down from His cross,
A tragic man lean-limbed and tall,
But weighed with suffering and loss
His back was to a broken wall,
And out upon the tameless world
Was fixed His gaze His piercing eye
Beheld the towns to ruin hurled,
And saw the storm of death pass by.
Two thousand years it was since first
He offered to the race of men
His sovran boon, As one accurst
They nailed Him to the jibbet then,
And while they mocked Him for their mirth
He smiled, and from the hill of pain
To all the hating tribes of earth
Held forth His wondrous gift again.
To-day the thorns were on His brow,
His grief was deeper than before.
From ravaged field and city now
Arose the screams and reek of war.
The black smoke parted. Through the rift
God's sun fell on the b1oody lands.
Christ wept, for still His priceless gift
He held within His wounded hands.
Edward Dyson an almost forgotten First World War poet. He wrote some amazing poems. Some like Jam (a hymn of hate) are very funny other, like the Unredeemed below are powerful contemplative works that capture the tension between religion, suffering and experience.
UNREDEEMED.
I saw the Christ down from His cross,
A tragic man lean-limbed and tall,
But weighed with suffering and loss
His back was to a broken wall,
And out upon the tameless world
Was fixed His gaze His piercing eye
Beheld the towns to ruin hurled,
And saw the storm of death pass by.
Two thousand years it was since first
He offered to the race of men
His sovran boon, As one accurst
They nailed Him to the jibbet then,
And while they mocked Him for their mirth
He smiled, and from the hill of pain
To all the hating tribes of earth
Held forth His wondrous gift again.
To-day the thorns were on His brow,
His grief was deeper than before.
From ravaged field and city now
Arose the screams and reek of war.
The black smoke parted. Through the rift
God's sun fell on the b1oody lands.
Christ wept, for still His priceless gift
He held within His wounded hands.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
The Marylebone War Supply Depot
This article comes from the British Nursing Journal dated 7th August 1915.
The Central Depot for all surgical supplies for the Queen Mary’s Needlework Guild was at St. Marylebone War Hospital in London. We are given here an interesting insight into the working of the depot by the correspondent.
In 1915 £1 for a Dundee Cake was a very high price. In April 1915 the weekly budget for a middle class family for a weekly supply of cakes, fruit and pickle as 5 shillings. Taking into account that Afternoon tea with a variety of cakes was still the normal practice of most families.
“THE MARYLEBONE WAR SUPPLY DEPOT.
Anyone accepting the invitation of the St. Marylebone War Hospital Supply Depot, 2, Cavendish Square, W., displayed in large letters over its portico, to “Come and See,” will find the beautiful house (generously put at the disposal of the Committee by the Earl of Crawford and Balcarres), a hive of industry; in which, under the direction of the Hon. Organizer, Miss Ethel McCaul; R.R.C., much willing voluntary help is being utilized to do valuable work for the comfort of the sick and wounded, the object of the Depot being to supply at home and abroad surgical dressings, bandages and general hospital requirements, so urgently needed at the present time.
Her Majesty‘ the Queen recently paid it a visit, and was so pleased with what she then saw, that it is now the Central Depot of the Surgical Branch of Queen Mary’s Needlework Guild; and the Depots in the country work from patterns supplied from this centre, so that any demand from France can be quickly met. Miss McCaul and the Heads of Departments are distinguished by close-fitting coats, dove-grey in colour; and her “runners,” known as the “Bluebirds,” wear a broad blue band of ribbon passing over the right shoulder and joined, below the waist, on the opposite side. The overseers in the various rooms wear a scarlet band round the left arm, with a white “0” embroidered upon it. There are also workers told off to show visitors round, who wear a broad scarlet ribbon over the shoulder and meeting under the opposite arm, who are known as “scarlet runners ’’ ; while those connected with the tea-room have a distinctive “T” embroidered on the ribbon.
The running expenses of the Depot are covered by a weekly subscription of one shilling from the voluntary workers, so that the whole of any donation received is solely devoted to the purchase of material required for making the supplies.
When a representative of this Journal recently visited the Depot, the whole of the energies of the staff were bent on fulfilling a request from the War Office for a quarter-of-a-million pockets for respirators. Each man at present carries one round his neck, but the pocket will enable him to keep one in reserve. It is made of khaki waterproof lining; supplied from the War Office Clothing Department at Pimlico. These flat pockets are supplied so that the men can sew them on to their uniforms. At the top are two button-holes; and tacked on at the side are two buttons, to be stitched on to the tunic. Each pocket, including button-holes, takes an average worker fifteen minutes to make, but in one room is a fascinating button-hole machine, which makes twelve buttonholes in five minutes ; this, of course, considerably accelerates matters. In one room, one saw twenty pockets with beautifully worked button holes made by an old lady of eighty-four, anxious to do her bit.
In the bandage room, for the production of all forms of surgical bandages, some very interesting specimens of the Robertson-Lawson many-tail bandages were on view. Mrs. Robertson-Lawson, by whom they were designed, was trained and has recently been working as Sister at St. Thomas’ Hospital. She found that for bad hip cases the application of a spica bandage necessitating unnecessary, and painful movement, was quite unsuitable, and so designed a shaped many-tail bandage, which proved quite a success, the dressing being easily and comfortably changed, and the back being quite accessible for care. Mrs. Robertson-Lawson kindly demonstrated the application of this bandage, as well of a shaped shoulder one. Both are made of white flannelette (non-flam), which is easily washed. Any regular Military Hospital can be supplied with patterns on application.
The Departments include the surgical dressings room, the splint room, the moss and pine dressing room, the needlework room, where dressing gowns, bed jackets, flannel shirts, pajamas, night shirts, and other garments are made, the slipper room, where slippers of all sorts and sizes for invalids are fashioned, the linen room where old linen is sorted, cut out, and re-made to the best advantage. Thus from sheets are made draw sheets, operation table sheets, tray cloths, feeders, towels, handkerchiefs, fomentation wringers, and dressings. From old bath towels, small towels, and washing gloves; from chintz, soldiers’ bags; from blankets, hot water bottle covers, under blankets, and scrubbers, from which it will be seen that little comes amiss.
In the men’s department there is a large covered carpenter’s shop, fitted with benches, where packing cases, splints, and other articles are made. Voluntary men workers are urgently needed to support this department, and are asked to bring their own tools if they have them. All correspondence in connection with the men’s department should be addressed to J. E. Needham Esq.
Cake Day on Wednesday, July 28th, organized by Lady Thynne and Mrs. Burdon Muller was a, huge success. Over 1,000 cakes were received to be sold for the benefit of British prisoners of war, the Army, the Navy, and the funds of the Depot.
The Queen sent twelve fine Dundee cakes, expressing the wish that they should be bought for prisoners of war in Germany, and they were quickly sold early in the afternoon at £1 each.”
The Central Depot for all surgical supplies for the Queen Mary’s Needlework Guild was at St. Marylebone War Hospital in London. We are given here an interesting insight into the working of the depot by the correspondent.
In 1915 £1 for a Dundee Cake was a very high price. In April 1915 the weekly budget for a middle class family for a weekly supply of cakes, fruit and pickle as 5 shillings. Taking into account that Afternoon tea with a variety of cakes was still the normal practice of most families.
“THE MARYLEBONE WAR SUPPLY DEPOT.
Anyone accepting the invitation of the St. Marylebone War Hospital Supply Depot, 2, Cavendish Square, W., displayed in large letters over its portico, to “Come and See,” will find the beautiful house (generously put at the disposal of the Committee by the Earl of Crawford and Balcarres), a hive of industry; in which, under the direction of the Hon. Organizer, Miss Ethel McCaul; R.R.C., much willing voluntary help is being utilized to do valuable work for the comfort of the sick and wounded, the object of the Depot being to supply at home and abroad surgical dressings, bandages and general hospital requirements, so urgently needed at the present time.
Her Majesty‘ the Queen recently paid it a visit, and was so pleased with what she then saw, that it is now the Central Depot of the Surgical Branch of Queen Mary’s Needlework Guild; and the Depots in the country work from patterns supplied from this centre, so that any demand from France can be quickly met. Miss McCaul and the Heads of Departments are distinguished by close-fitting coats, dove-grey in colour; and her “runners,” known as the “Bluebirds,” wear a broad blue band of ribbon passing over the right shoulder and joined, below the waist, on the opposite side. The overseers in the various rooms wear a scarlet band round the left arm, with a white “0” embroidered upon it. There are also workers told off to show visitors round, who wear a broad scarlet ribbon over the shoulder and meeting under the opposite arm, who are known as “scarlet runners ’’ ; while those connected with the tea-room have a distinctive “T” embroidered on the ribbon.
The running expenses of the Depot are covered by a weekly subscription of one shilling from the voluntary workers, so that the whole of any donation received is solely devoted to the purchase of material required for making the supplies.
When a representative of this Journal recently visited the Depot, the whole of the energies of the staff were bent on fulfilling a request from the War Office for a quarter-of-a-million pockets for respirators. Each man at present carries one round his neck, but the pocket will enable him to keep one in reserve. It is made of khaki waterproof lining; supplied from the War Office Clothing Department at Pimlico. These flat pockets are supplied so that the men can sew them on to their uniforms. At the top are two button-holes; and tacked on at the side are two buttons, to be stitched on to the tunic. Each pocket, including button-holes, takes an average worker fifteen minutes to make, but in one room is a fascinating button-hole machine, which makes twelve buttonholes in five minutes ; this, of course, considerably accelerates matters. In one room, one saw twenty pockets with beautifully worked button holes made by an old lady of eighty-four, anxious to do her bit.
In the bandage room, for the production of all forms of surgical bandages, some very interesting specimens of the Robertson-Lawson many-tail bandages were on view. Mrs. Robertson-Lawson, by whom they were designed, was trained and has recently been working as Sister at St. Thomas’ Hospital. She found that for bad hip cases the application of a spica bandage necessitating unnecessary, and painful movement, was quite unsuitable, and so designed a shaped many-tail bandage, which proved quite a success, the dressing being easily and comfortably changed, and the back being quite accessible for care. Mrs. Robertson-Lawson kindly demonstrated the application of this bandage, as well of a shaped shoulder one. Both are made of white flannelette (non-flam), which is easily washed. Any regular Military Hospital can be supplied with patterns on application.
The Departments include the surgical dressings room, the splint room, the moss and pine dressing room, the needlework room, where dressing gowns, bed jackets, flannel shirts, pajamas, night shirts, and other garments are made, the slipper room, where slippers of all sorts and sizes for invalids are fashioned, the linen room where old linen is sorted, cut out, and re-made to the best advantage. Thus from sheets are made draw sheets, operation table sheets, tray cloths, feeders, towels, handkerchiefs, fomentation wringers, and dressings. From old bath towels, small towels, and washing gloves; from chintz, soldiers’ bags; from blankets, hot water bottle covers, under blankets, and scrubbers, from which it will be seen that little comes amiss.
In the men’s department there is a large covered carpenter’s shop, fitted with benches, where packing cases, splints, and other articles are made. Voluntary men workers are urgently needed to support this department, and are asked to bring their own tools if they have them. All correspondence in connection with the men’s department should be addressed to J. E. Needham Esq.
Cake Day on Wednesday, July 28th, organized by Lady Thynne and Mrs. Burdon Muller was a, huge success. Over 1,000 cakes were received to be sold for the benefit of British prisoners of war, the Army, the Navy, and the funds of the Depot.
The Queen sent twelve fine Dundee cakes, expressing the wish that they should be bought for prisoners of war in Germany, and they were quickly sold early in the afternoon at £1 each.”
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
The Work of the Pioneers
This interesting article 'The Work of the Pioneers' by a Private in a Pioneer Battalion, is from The Great War in A Different Light. It appeared in ‘The War Illustrated’ on March 10th 1917. Although anonymous it does mention the work at High Wood, during the Battle of the Somme, in July-August 1916.
The Royal Sussex Regiment had two Battalions that acted as Pioneers during the war:-
The 5th Battalion Royal Sussex Regiment (Cinque Ports) was originally a ‘fighting’ battalion but after the battle of Aubers Ridge in May 1915, it was transferred to 48th (South Midland) Division as their divisional Pioneer Battalion.
The 8th Battalion Royal Sussex Regiment was formed as part of Kitcheners Army in September 1914. They were allocated to 18th (Eastern) Division in February 1915 and saw out the rest of the war as the divisions Pioneer Battalion.
This article gives an impression of what life must have been life being part of a Pioneer Battalion.
“There is only one decent thing in the life of a soldier in a pioneer battalion ; only one way in which he has a, better time than the man in the infantry battalions, whose home is in the fighting-line. That is, the pioneer comes and goes to and from the front line, the infantryman stays there all the time.
It is in the winter and the rainy seasons, when the mud comes, that the pioneer battalion comes into its proper prominence, and highly-placed Staff officers have been good enough to say that our work has proved exceedingly valuable during the later stages of the fighting.
We are engineers, without the name; and we are navvies, sanitary inspectors, road-makers, and trench repairers. We have to be able to live in water as well as on land, and no matter if a trench is flooded right to its parapet, we don't despair of making it fairly comfortable, perhaps, before the troops come forward to man it early the next morning We have to be able to live in an atmosphere of gas fumes, and to work all the time the grey-green clouds are hanging around us. We carry picks and spades as part of our ordinary equipment, but we're just as handy with our rifles as any soldier who has a "cushy" job in a line regiment.
Take one job we had, for instance, where a series of trenches were daily subjected to the "hate" of the German gunners. All day long we lay up in a barn which had once been an artillery observation-post, and which in consequence had received more than its fair share of shells from both sides, according to whoever held it.
Night Work Under Fire
Starting off just after eleven o'clock at night we made our way along a communication-trench. This was the start of our troubles. Along that communication-trench there were relief-parties going up to the various trenches, there were some parties — dog-tired and worn-out with fighting all day and night for the past twenty-four hours — coming down, there were stretcher-bearers with poor devils who were hurt, and burial-parties with stiller, quieter burdens. Men taking rations to the front line, others coming down to draw theirs, and all in the darkness, in twelve inches of mud, And, of course, collisions were inevitable. We'd be marching along, in two ranks, when our head would come into contact with some soft body. Then there'd be a few swear words, a demand to know whether the soft body owned that trench, and a voice saying suavely, "What is your name, my man ?"—and we'd know it was a " brass hat" on the prowl.
Pioneers got out of everybody's way, of course, and many a time we'd have to climb to the parapet of that trench, and crawl along on our stomachs, while the enemy's bullets whizzed over us. At the end of this trench, on the way we went to the front, was a canal, and this had to be crossed by a couple of narrow planks. The Huns had destroyed the bridge as they retired, and they had the range of our improvised bridge to an inch. It was in the open, too, and they had posted a machine-gun so as to command the place. This machine-gun was cunningly hidden too, and we didn't find it for a long time.
It was on the top of an old ruined chateau, right behind our lines, and there were enough stores and ammunition up with it to last at least three months. We supposed its crew must have gone foraging at night for grub,. for there wasn't any of that at all.
Trench Repairs Under Difficulties
Anyway, every night, just about the time when we got to this bridge, the captain of that gun would have a touch of liver, and give us about three hundred rounds at intervals, in the hope of catching a party on the planks. But we were wise, and went over at full speed, head down, and one at a time, waiting on the other side till the party was complete. Then there'd be more twisting and turning in the mazes of the communication-trenches, and at last we reached the place where we had to work.
On this job we had to bank up the sides of the trench, fill up sand-bags to replace those tile German guns had blown to bits, and make the parapet as solid and firm as it could be.
All the time the Germans would be firing, and occasionally they would send up a star-shell, illuminating the place as brightly as day. Then we'd fall flat, and endeavour to make a noise like a shadow on the ground, often with our faces and noses buried in the mud, and the water trickling into our ears. We didn't dare to move, for if we had we'd have drawn the fire of half a score of machine-guns, and been well strafed by our own chaps for disturbing them at that hour of the morning.
About two we'd return, but as most of the reliefs and stretcher-parties had vanished by this time, we used to get back in good time. This, of course, was repeated every night, whether it rained, snowed, was black as the inside of your tin helmet, or bright moonlight. You folks at home who admire the moon, and go to bed secure in the knowledge that Mr. Bloomin' Zeppelin won't come while there's a moon, should hear the greeting she gets from us when she shoves her great round face from behind a cloud or over a distant wood or hill-top and lights up a party of about fifty sand-bag fillers.
Of course, the Boche immediately opens fire, and it's all U-P with our work that night.
Grisly Work in High Wood
We reach our barn about dawn and lie down. I nearly said "get to sleep" but almost as soon as we get rolled in our blankets the gunners start their work, kicking up the dickens of a row about three hundred yards away in our rear. Of course, the Huns retaliate, and presently one of their airmen will come over to see if he can locate anything. He'll drop a few bombs, just out of good-fellowship, and when our airmen chase him away he makes us a present of all the explosives he's carrying. Of course, you will realise that we get an enormous amount of rest, under these conditions, and that the requests to be transferred to a "cushy" job in a fighting regiment are fairly numerous.
In the recent fight for High Wood we had to cut a road through the trees the night before the big thing happened. Now, our own guns were shelling the wood, the German guns were making a barrage just the other side of their position, and rifles and bombs were popping about all over the show. The Germans hadn't been able to bury their dead, and these had been blown to pieces with the shells, and were all mingled in with the under-growth we had to chop away.
It was awful, and the smell enough to poison anyone but a pioneer, and every time an axe crashed against a bush stump a storm of bullets would come through at us. The work was sheer brutality, and hardened as we are, it made every man Jack physically sick and ill afterwards, though while we were at it we had to stick it, trying to drown the offensive stench with strong pipe-tobacco.
One night we pushed right up to the front line to dig some new trenches for the infantry, and when we arrived there we found the infantry. too exhausted with continual fighting all day long to talk coherent sense. The German guns were making a barrage behind us, too, so that they couldn't get reliefs up, and as an attack was expected every minute they couldn't quite leave the trench to look after itself while they had a sleep.
When we arrived, however, although we were only just a little less weary than themselves, having been out all the previous night, and having worked our way through the barrage from two in the afternoon till dark, our officers sent them all into their dug-outs to get a little sleep, saying that we would hold the lines for them.
A Fight as a Pleasant Change
All that night we worked with our Spades, repairing the parapet where it was broken away, laying down the duck-walk — the planks in the centre of the trench along which we walk when the water rises — and filling up sand-bags. I don't think I ever worked so hard in all my life, and we got finished just as the light broke through the sky in the east.
And with the daylight came the Germans, attacking en masse. We discarded our spades and shovels, manned the infantry's Lewis guns, and got our rifles to bear. We gave the advancing Germans as hot a fire as they'd ever had, but they came on.
And at last they got into that trench — but they never got out. We used bayonets and the bombs belonging to our pals in the dug-outs, and when we dropped our rifles we caught up spades, and used the .edges of them. I never enjoyed a scrap more than that, and when the Germans — what was left of — them, and it was mighty few — turned and ran, we sent up a cheer that brought the lads out. And, would you believe it, they had slept through all that awful time. They'd got so used to the sound of rifle and gun fire that these usual sounds hadn't disturbed them, but our cheering had.
Well, war is a rotten life, anyway, but if I had my chance over again I'd go into a fighting regiment, and not a pioneer battalion.”
The Royal Sussex Regiment had two Battalions that acted as Pioneers during the war:-
The 5th Battalion Royal Sussex Regiment (Cinque Ports) was originally a ‘fighting’ battalion but after the battle of Aubers Ridge in May 1915, it was transferred to 48th (South Midland) Division as their divisional Pioneer Battalion.
The 8th Battalion Royal Sussex Regiment was formed as part of Kitcheners Army in September 1914. They were allocated to 18th (Eastern) Division in February 1915 and saw out the rest of the war as the divisions Pioneer Battalion.
This article gives an impression of what life must have been life being part of a Pioneer Battalion.
“There is only one decent thing in the life of a soldier in a pioneer battalion ; only one way in which he has a, better time than the man in the infantry battalions, whose home is in the fighting-line. That is, the pioneer comes and goes to and from the front line, the infantryman stays there all the time.
It is in the winter and the rainy seasons, when the mud comes, that the pioneer battalion comes into its proper prominence, and highly-placed Staff officers have been good enough to say that our work has proved exceedingly valuable during the later stages of the fighting.
We are engineers, without the name; and we are navvies, sanitary inspectors, road-makers, and trench repairers. We have to be able to live in water as well as on land, and no matter if a trench is flooded right to its parapet, we don't despair of making it fairly comfortable, perhaps, before the troops come forward to man it early the next morning We have to be able to live in an atmosphere of gas fumes, and to work all the time the grey-green clouds are hanging around us. We carry picks and spades as part of our ordinary equipment, but we're just as handy with our rifles as any soldier who has a "cushy" job in a line regiment.
Take one job we had, for instance, where a series of trenches were daily subjected to the "hate" of the German gunners. All day long we lay up in a barn which had once been an artillery observation-post, and which in consequence had received more than its fair share of shells from both sides, according to whoever held it.
Night Work Under Fire
Starting off just after eleven o'clock at night we made our way along a communication-trench. This was the start of our troubles. Along that communication-trench there were relief-parties going up to the various trenches, there were some parties — dog-tired and worn-out with fighting all day and night for the past twenty-four hours — coming down, there were stretcher-bearers with poor devils who were hurt, and burial-parties with stiller, quieter burdens. Men taking rations to the front line, others coming down to draw theirs, and all in the darkness, in twelve inches of mud, And, of course, collisions were inevitable. We'd be marching along, in two ranks, when our head would come into contact with some soft body. Then there'd be a few swear words, a demand to know whether the soft body owned that trench, and a voice saying suavely, "What is your name, my man ?"—and we'd know it was a " brass hat" on the prowl.
Pioneers got out of everybody's way, of course, and many a time we'd have to climb to the parapet of that trench, and crawl along on our stomachs, while the enemy's bullets whizzed over us. At the end of this trench, on the way we went to the front, was a canal, and this had to be crossed by a couple of narrow planks. The Huns had destroyed the bridge as they retired, and they had the range of our improvised bridge to an inch. It was in the open, too, and they had posted a machine-gun so as to command the place. This machine-gun was cunningly hidden too, and we didn't find it for a long time.
It was on the top of an old ruined chateau, right behind our lines, and there were enough stores and ammunition up with it to last at least three months. We supposed its crew must have gone foraging at night for grub,. for there wasn't any of that at all.
Trench Repairs Under Difficulties
Anyway, every night, just about the time when we got to this bridge, the captain of that gun would have a touch of liver, and give us about three hundred rounds at intervals, in the hope of catching a party on the planks. But we were wise, and went over at full speed, head down, and one at a time, waiting on the other side till the party was complete. Then there'd be more twisting and turning in the mazes of the communication-trenches, and at last we reached the place where we had to work.
On this job we had to bank up the sides of the trench, fill up sand-bags to replace those tile German guns had blown to bits, and make the parapet as solid and firm as it could be.
All the time the Germans would be firing, and occasionally they would send up a star-shell, illuminating the place as brightly as day. Then we'd fall flat, and endeavour to make a noise like a shadow on the ground, often with our faces and noses buried in the mud, and the water trickling into our ears. We didn't dare to move, for if we had we'd have drawn the fire of half a score of machine-guns, and been well strafed by our own chaps for disturbing them at that hour of the morning.
About two we'd return, but as most of the reliefs and stretcher-parties had vanished by this time, we used to get back in good time. This, of course, was repeated every night, whether it rained, snowed, was black as the inside of your tin helmet, or bright moonlight. You folks at home who admire the moon, and go to bed secure in the knowledge that Mr. Bloomin' Zeppelin won't come while there's a moon, should hear the greeting she gets from us when she shoves her great round face from behind a cloud or over a distant wood or hill-top and lights up a party of about fifty sand-bag fillers.
Of course, the Boche immediately opens fire, and it's all U-P with our work that night.
Grisly Work in High Wood
We reach our barn about dawn and lie down. I nearly said "get to sleep" but almost as soon as we get rolled in our blankets the gunners start their work, kicking up the dickens of a row about three hundred yards away in our rear. Of course, the Huns retaliate, and presently one of their airmen will come over to see if he can locate anything. He'll drop a few bombs, just out of good-fellowship, and when our airmen chase him away he makes us a present of all the explosives he's carrying. Of course, you will realise that we get an enormous amount of rest, under these conditions, and that the requests to be transferred to a "cushy" job in a fighting regiment are fairly numerous.
In the recent fight for High Wood we had to cut a road through the trees the night before the big thing happened. Now, our own guns were shelling the wood, the German guns were making a barrage just the other side of their position, and rifles and bombs were popping about all over the show. The Germans hadn't been able to bury their dead, and these had been blown to pieces with the shells, and were all mingled in with the under-growth we had to chop away.
It was awful, and the smell enough to poison anyone but a pioneer, and every time an axe crashed against a bush stump a storm of bullets would come through at us. The work was sheer brutality, and hardened as we are, it made every man Jack physically sick and ill afterwards, though while we were at it we had to stick it, trying to drown the offensive stench with strong pipe-tobacco.
One night we pushed right up to the front line to dig some new trenches for the infantry, and when we arrived there we found the infantry. too exhausted with continual fighting all day long to talk coherent sense. The German guns were making a barrage behind us, too, so that they couldn't get reliefs up, and as an attack was expected every minute they couldn't quite leave the trench to look after itself while they had a sleep.
When we arrived, however, although we were only just a little less weary than themselves, having been out all the previous night, and having worked our way through the barrage from two in the afternoon till dark, our officers sent them all into their dug-outs to get a little sleep, saying that we would hold the lines for them.
A Fight as a Pleasant Change
All that night we worked with our Spades, repairing the parapet where it was broken away, laying down the duck-walk — the planks in the centre of the trench along which we walk when the water rises — and filling up sand-bags. I don't think I ever worked so hard in all my life, and we got finished just as the light broke through the sky in the east.
And with the daylight came the Germans, attacking en masse. We discarded our spades and shovels, manned the infantry's Lewis guns, and got our rifles to bear. We gave the advancing Germans as hot a fire as they'd ever had, but they came on.
And at last they got into that trench — but they never got out. We used bayonets and the bombs belonging to our pals in the dug-outs, and when we dropped our rifles we caught up spades, and used the .edges of them. I never enjoyed a scrap more than that, and when the Germans — what was left of — them, and it was mighty few — turned and ran, we sent up a cheer that brought the lads out. And, would you believe it, they had slept through all that awful time. They'd got so used to the sound of rifle and gun fire that these usual sounds hadn't disturbed them, but our cheering had.
Well, war is a rotten life, anyway, but if I had my chance over again I'd go into a fighting regiment, and not a pioneer battalion.”
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