The last of this week's Great War posts today, but what a fascinating discussion we have had in comments. Thank you to everyone who has added such thoughtful and interesting replies. It is always the best bit of any blog post for me, to hear what you think, and to listen and to acknowledge each other's thoughts from around the world. I think we all help each other to appreciate a much broader picture, and often to see things anew. I know I certainly have this week.
So now for some knitting.
'In August 1914, the War Office, was faced with the task of kitting out a volunteer army of unprecedented size. In Great Britain, form July to September 1914, 253,195 men voluntarily enlisted and, by 1918, over five million British men had worn uniform.'
In my quest to read around the centenary this year I came across this little book, Knitting for Tommy: Keeping the Great War Soldier Warm by Lucinda Gosling.
The basic khaki uniform afforded protection but little comfort against the vagaries of European weather. Coats and tunics became waterlogged and three pairs of socks was never going to be enough...pair on, pair in the wash, pair drying...no that was never going to work in a trench. The numbers are staggering; allocated at the rate of three pairs every six months 137,224,141 pairs of socks were issued to the soldiers over four years...
'More seriously, spare, dry socks were imperative if the painful and debilitating condition known as trench foot was to be avoided. What British soldiers needed was comfort. And comforts they got.'
Lucinda Gosling likens this to the traditions established
during the Crimean war (and I was reminded of Queen Victoria and the muffatees) before proceeding to outline the knitting campaign on the home front; adverts in The Times asking for the nation to cast on socks and mufflers ...one or more muffler a day was considered possible for a competent knitter, and heavens above did the Nation respond. Knitting everywhere, on trains, in theatres, in restaurants, men, women, children and the Queen alike, and right across the social spectrum. It isn't hard to imagine what a sense of solidarity with the men at the Front must have been purled into every stitch.
There was even a knitting song, and I was only going to add the first verse but in the end it says so much about the efforts of those at home that I had to include it all for the record......
Soldier lad, on the sodden ground,
Sailor lad on the seas,
Can't you hear a little clicketty sound
Stealing across on the breeze?
It's the knitting-needles singing their song
As they twine the khaki or blue,
Thousands and thousands and thousands strong,
Tommy and Jack, for you.
Click -- click -- click,
How they dart and flick,
Flashing in the firelight to and fro!
Now for purl and plain,
Round and round again,
Knitting love and luck in every row.
The busy hands may be rough or white,
The fingers gouty or slim,
The careful eyes may be youthfully bright,
Or they may be weary and dim,
Lady and workgirl, young and old,
They've all got one end in view,
Knitting warm comforts against the cold,
Tommy and Jack, for you.
Knitting away by the midnight oil,
Knitting when day begins,
Lads, in the stress of your splendid toil,
Can't you hear the song of the pins?
Clicketty, click -- through the wind and the foam
It's telling the boys over there
That every 'woolly' that comes from home
Brings a smile and a hope and a prayer.
Click -- click -- click,
How they dart and flick,
Flashing in the firelight to and fro!
Now for purl and plain,
Round and round again,
Knitting love and luck in every row.
Jessie Pope 1915
It was inevitable that the sheep wouldn't be able to keep pace with demand so dogs were called into service to supply hair for spinning. Pekingese and Pomeranians were suddenly in great demand.
Lucinda Gosling adds some balance to the topic too with news of a similar enthusiasm for knitting in Germany, pointing out that
'across the warring nations, and regardless of race, it seemed that knitting was a universal language.'
Comforts for the wounded must have brought the stark realities to the fore, who can imagine the care and tears knitted into the operation bedjacket, or the invalid slippers, or the belt for those suffering from abdominal wounds, or even the knitted kneecap.
The reproductions of patterns, posters and ephemera all make a wonderful addition to the text and I especially loved the Mabel Lucie Attwell postcards, this one from 1915...
I had always associated Mabel Lucie Attwell with my own 1950s childhood because of our very dog-eared copy of Peter Pan with her beautiful sepia, green and blue-scale illustrations. Apparently J.M.Barrie had personally requested that Mabel Lucie Attwell illustrated the gift book edition, and I find even now those images are still deeply impressed on my adult imagination. Wendy sewing on Peter's shadow while he gazes sadly right at me, ensuring that I was always completely enchanted by the story...
Talking of which, I'll bet one of us was in trouble about this...
I was quite surprised to discover that Mabel Lucie Attwell had been born in 1879 in the East End of London. Nor did I know that she lived and died in Fowey, in Cornwall in 1964.
Small typeface aside, it would be perfectly possible to follow some of the patterns included in Knitting for Tommy should you feel so inclined, as well as heeding some of the warnings
Don'ts for the Knitters of Socks....
'Don't knot your wool...
'Don't forget that a man may not have a chance to change his socks for many days, and a lump or a knot can cause a blister. If the blister breaks , blood-poisoning may result in the loss of a foot or even a life. We cannot afford to lose our men through negligence or ignorance.
And in fact the Warleigh Smoking Cap wouldn't look that out of place in 2014..
As pattern designer Henrietta Warleigh elaborates, smoking was a lifesaver for the soldiers, 'soothing and helping to while away the hours of weakness and pain' and the Mary Evans Picture library, who collaborated on this book, have an interesting piece about that on their excellent site here.
It is interesting too that smoking became an international language between the Allies, and even between enemies. Tobacco and cigarette advertisements often showed Allied soldiers enjoying the camaraderie of a shared cigarette and photographs taken at the Front show the ultimate display of compassion was to offer cigarettes to the enemy wounded or POWs.
Though yet to be explained, as Lucinda Gosling admits, is why a convalescent soldier needed a woolly hat in which to smoke. But wasn't it all redolent of days gone by when men sat in the warmth and comfort of their own homes and wore such things to stop their hair smelling of smoke. In this case a knitted-with-love physical connection with home and happier times perhaps.
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