Great Wyrley (Cheslyn Hay) in the Great War: 1917 (part 1)
1917: The Advent of Pessimism
This is the first of two parts covering Great Wyrley and Cheslyn Hay (incorporating evidence from Walsall to Cannock) in 1917, as a part of the series of draft versions of the Heritage Lottery Funded book chapters on Great Wyrley’s Great War. While Great Wyrley is at the heart of these essays it is impossible to ignore Cheslyn Hay, as the two complimented each other, as well as other areas from Walsall to Cannock. These areas are also often better documented. This part has a war in brief section, along with local perspectives on the war, on friends and foes, and on joining-up and ‘shirking.’ Part 2 is to follow.
The War in Brief (British Perspective)
1917 would see two major changes regarding the combative nations that would have significant consequences for the western front. First, after continual shipping losses to German submarines (the Germans had recommenced their open submarine warfare policy in February), the sabotage of munition depots (the ordnance destined for the Allies) and, the coup de grâce, the infamous Zimmerman telegram (a decoded message that saw Germany propose an alliance with Mexico, and invited them to attack the USA), America declared war on Germany in April. The American troops needed training, however, and by the end of the year there was only a very small US presence within the war zone; their speed in reaching the front line would be a frustration for the other allies.
At the same time, Russia was being slowly knocked out of the war. Having driven his own population to despair, the Tsar had abdicated in March. An interim government was formed that sought to continue with the war, however, after securing a passage back to Russia the political agitator Vladimir Lenin, along with his supporters, successfully managed to overthrow the interim government in the October. From this point on the Russians were evidently looking to exit the war if a universal peace could not be negotiated. They remained a combative nation until 1918, however, a somewhat desultory one.
Militarily, between January and March the British carried out limited assaults in the Somme region and in response, between February and April, the Germans decided to shorten their defensive line and fell back to a newly and well-prepared defensive position known as the Hindenburg Line. The reasoning was that this line could be held with fewer troops, especially as the Russians were still actively engaged in the war at that time.
April would also see the opening of the Battle of the Scarpe (a series of engagements in the Arras region over the next month) that was aimed at assisting the French attacks in Champagne (now known generally as the Nivelle Offensive). The British had costly, but moderate success; the French attacks were a disaster and led to sections of the army effectively going on strike, where they agreed to occupy the line but not fight. The loss of French morale, coupled with that of the uncertainty in Russia, meant the British Army shouldered much of the war effort over the next few months. Incredibly, the Germans never discovered that this had happened – possibly, and in part, because the British Army kept them occupied in order to give the French some breathing space to recover.
Fear of the discovery of the ‘mutiny’ and the need to wrest the Germans away from the Channel ports from where their submarines were operating – and causing ever growing fears over merchant shipping losses – saw, in June, a successful week-long operation that included the blowing of a series of mines started the previous year in order to take the Messines Ridge outside of Ypres. A series of engagements then started in July that would eventually be called the Third Battle of Ypres, but has become more familiarly known as Passchendaele. A technical victory when it ceased in the November, although that needs to be balanced to the enormous cost in life, the battle was fought in an unceasing rain that produced a virtual swamp. It, of course, never succeeded in liberating the Channel ports.
The year, in November and December, had one more operation in store where at Cambrai, northern France, tanks were used en masse for the first time due to the firmness of the ground. There was no initial bombardment, and use was made of the night to avoid aerial reconnaissance. Hampered by poor weather, the initial optimism gave way and the British were forced back to their starting point by counter offensives.
The German East Africa campaign continued in much the same fashion, with the Allies trying to find and pin down the German force without much success. In the Middle East, the Sinai Peninsula was fully taken and, despite setbacks at Gaza, the year ended with Jerusalem being taken by the Allies. The Arab uprising caused the Turkish problems mainly through guerrilla tactics, however, the Arab force managed to capture the port of Aqaba in July which greatly aided the Allied forces during their Jerusalem campaign. In Mesopotamia, the 1917 campaign opened with the recapture of Kut before pushing on to take Baghdad in March. The Salonika front saw a failed joint offensive against the Bulgarians in early 1917, before aiding the pro-Allied faction within Greece to gain control with the result that Greece joined the Allies in June.
Understanding and Supporting the War
The understanding that local people had of the war, along with their understanding of the frontline conditions, continued to come from newspapers, communication from soldiers, ex-soldiers now at home, or through observing militaria such as aeroplanes and Zeppelins – and all these have been mentioned already. There were also the newsreels and, importantly, a follow-up five-reel film to the 1916 Battle of the Somme that proved to be equally successful. This film was also shot in late 1916, but not screened until February 1917 – and it was shown extensively in the Cannock area.
The Battle of the Ancre had learned some lessons from its parent film, in that it did not show men being shot (even faked footage), dead bodies in the field, the burial of shrouded corpses, and was therefore somewhat more sanitised. It did show the build up to the offensive, especially the artillery bombardments, and also brought the tanks to the screen (the film was also subtitled the Advance of the Tanks). Tanks would go on to capture the public imagination – as we will later see in 1918. Sanitised it may have been, but the film did show the appalling muddy conditions – including the ooze covered Tommy – along with the fact that the Germans were actually firing back. Nevertheless, the film gave the overall impression that the Somme was a victory, that the Allies were continually on the advance and, with the insertion of the tanks, the seeming reassurance that it was all just a matter of time.
There were insights at times into exceptional community experiences, such as with the Zeppelin raids, and how they dealt with them. The one that will be focussed on here centres on a bizarre incident that occurred a few miles from Wyrley in what is the Ryecroft area of Walsall. The incident – a genuine accident caused by a military aeroplane – left two of its community dead; and it shows how the family involved was supported by the Ryecroft and wider Walsall community, but completely abandoned by the military authorities.
On 7 April 1917, Second-Lieutenant Thomas Mann left Tern Hill piloting an Avro 504 aircraft on a routine flight to the Castle Bromwich aerodrome. While cruising at an altitude of around 4000ft Mann encountered a ‘thick mist,’ which forced him down to around 500ft and where he discovered he was over Walsall. It was at this point, frighteningly, his engine ‘petered out.’ Descending, he circled around without power and tried to make for open ground. When the plane was at around 100ft it actually collapsed, and as it fell from the sky Mann saw several people and ‘waved for them to get out of the way.’ Mann remembered nothing more until he was loaded into a lorry to be taken to hospital, and was clearly distraught over the incident.
Mann’s testimony was corroborated by witnesses on the ground whom, perhaps surprisingly, seemed quite familiar with the sight of military aeroplanes. At around 11am that morning Louisa Vass heard the sound of an aeroplane in the sky and went outside with her mother, Frances North (62), where they watched it circle as they had ‘often done before.’ After a few minutes Louisa fetched her daughter Edna (10 months) to share the experience. Her husband, Arthur, was in the Royal Garrison Artillery in France.
Kate Beebee, who resided at 115 Mill Street, stated that she felt that the pilot was trying to find a place to land, while Thomas Deakin, licensee of the Royal Exchange on Mill Street, was ‘of the opinion that the pilot was in difficulties.’ Deakin also said that he ‘suddenly saw the aeroplane fall’ – but it must have come from the direction of Mill Street, as Kate Beebee said it ‘just cleared her house’ (adjacent to Brewer Street) and it landed in the garden of the cottages behind (these cottages were in Brewer Street). Louisa was taken by surprise: she heard someone shout ‘run,’ but by then it was too late and the aeroplane struck the three of them – flinging Edna onto the garden path, killing her instantly, partially landing on Frances, again killing her instantly, with Louisa being fortunate enough only to injure her arm.
At 3pm on Tuesday 10 April an inquest was held at the Walsall & District Hospital. The Royal Flying Corps were represented by Captain White, who explained any military detail. The outcome was that verdicts of accidental death were passed on Frances and Edna, and it seems right that Mann was exonerated – as this was clearly a tragic accident – although today the Royal Flying Corps would have still been sued to high heaven. The curtain fell after the first act of this tragedy with Mr Addison, the Coroner, being reported in the press as approaching the Mayor of Walsall, the same Samuel Slater who had lost his wife in the Zeppelin raid, regarding financial assistance for Louisa Vass (and Slater was sympathetic). It was also reported that the Royal Flying Corps would be assisting the family.
The second act would be one that saw communities rally, and the shameful abandonment of the family by the military. The cost of the burials would amount to £11 10/- (which included grave space, interment fees, coffins, mourning coaches – but not headstones), and Addison wrote to the Mayor again to confirm that the Mayor’s War Fund would foot the bill for the burials to which Slater readily agreed. Addison then wrote to Louisa in order to relieve her of ‘any anxiety’ regarding the funeral expense, and so Frances Ann North and Edna May Vass were interred at Rushall Church on 14 April 1917.
Things went quiet for a month, until Mayor Slater received the final invoice from the undertaker. Slater wrote to Addison requesting that he make a further inquiry into the affairs of Louisa Vass, as Slater remembered that the newspapers stated that the Royal Flying Corps were bearing the costs of the funeral and Slater simply wanted the money that the War Fund had pledged be used for Louisa’s benefit on top of the RFC assistance – not that he wanted it back. Addison did as he was asked and spoke to the local community as well as Louisa Vass.
He reported back to the Mayor that the Royal Flying Corps had not involved themselves in any way to assist – in fact, she had not even received a communication from them. Addison went on to say that the local Ryecroft community – not the most affluent in Britain – raised the sum of £8 to assist her and this was being paid to Louisa in instalments of 10/- per week. Both Walsall and the local area of Ryecroft had stepped-up to the plate to help one of their own, however, not only had the Corps abandoned Louisa, but Addison went on to tell the Mayor about her separation allowance: Louisa had been receiving 12/6 for herself and a further 7/- per week for Edna, however, it appears that Louisa had received three weeks payments for Edna subsequent to her death, and that the overpayment of 21/- was now being claimed back at 1/6 a week.
As shown later, the public in general remained committed to seeing the war through, after all ‘hard luck’ stories like that of Louisa were ten-a-penny: A.J. Watkiss of Cannock would see his clothing and drapery business of 50 years trading go to the wall as he would be forced into service; the widow of Thomas Merrylees, who had been killed in the Zeppelin raid on Walsall, had to return to her family in Doncaster as she was newly pregnant when he was killed; and just how much the award of a silver badge for ‘sickness’ meant to Oliver Degg of Hednesford, after he had lost his feet to frost bite at Gallipoli, we will not know.
Saying that, small rumblings of discontent were clearly audible – or visible – possibly promoted by whispers of Germany having tabled peace proposals. For example, the usual joint patriotic meeting on the anniversary of the war was this time held in the garden of the Hawkins family at Glenthorne House in Cheslyn Hay, and while it will be covered more in the next section, the Courier report made the point that ‘the attendance was hardly up to expectation but still it was a representative and enthusiastic gathering.’
The latter part of the year also saw questions arising in the newspapers over not so much the fact of why we were fighting, but at what point would British and Allied war aims be met? Indeed, what were our war aims? Ambiguity, despite attempts at public education, clearly still reigned by the end of 1917, as John Thomas MP wrote in the Courier (15 December 1917): ‘There have been too many ambiguous phrases as to what are fighting for. The people will bear any sacrifice in order to crush the spirit of militarism. But if we are to remain a people united against the dangers that we face we must be told in clear and simple terms what our war aims are.’
The West Staffordshire branch of the National War Aims Committee had decided to host a series of public meetings in the Cannock area as early as the middle of September, however, these did not seem to be over the war aims – as in, at what point could a peace be achieved – but ‘to keep before the Nation the causes which led to the War, and the vital importance to human life and liberty of continuing the struggle until Victory is attained.’ The series of meetings kicked-off with Cannock on Monday 10 September at 7pm, being held in the Market Place; Heath Hays and Wimblebury followed the next day, with Hednesford, on the Anglesey Lawn, on 12 September; Cheslyn Hay hosted a meeting at ‘the Green’ at 7pm on the Thursday, with one in North Street, Bridgtown, starting half an hour later; Chadsmoor and Littleworth concluded the tour on the Friday.
The newspaper accounts of these gatherings do suggest these meetings were about revitalising the belief in the war itself: speakers, at Hednesford for example, commented on the men of the district that ‘had responded to the call to fight for the liberty,’ and that ‘there was scarcely a home in the country which had not lost one of the family or a relative;’ further, how ‘it was true that Germany had won sufficient victories to win an ordinary war, but she had not won the final victory… [and] the submarine menace which had failed [was] mercantile murder of the worst sort.’ When the German peace offer was mentioned, the fact that the Royal Navy had bottled up the German ports was touched upon and, as such, the speaker dismissed the offers with ‘no wonder they wanted a peace “as you were”… and [we] must remember that they were fighting for freedom and democracy, and were not going to allow themselves to be guided by Germany.’
The same edition of the Courier (15 September) also reported on the meetings at Cheslyn Hay and Bridgtown. Cheslyn Hay passed off without incident, which is perhaps not surprising, however, Bridgtown did offer a dissenting voice. Under the line ‘Bridgtown People Very Patriotic,’ a short write-up opened with the fact that it was intended to hold the meeting in North Street, but owing to the weather the school was utilised. It followed the template of the Hednesford meeting, with the speaker maintaining that the people of Bridgtown are very patriotic, then: ‘Both the announced speakers were very effective and were listened to with great attention. In the course of some remarks there was a discordant note, but the voice that uttered it explained publicly the reason, which showed that he did not quite understand what was intended to convey. At any rate the incident proved the independent spirit that is abroad, while the fair and consistent explanation heartily offered was very sincere.’
A clarification, or smoothing over, was provided in the Courier’s next edition, which compared the recently arriving wounded to the war aims meetings: ‘a rousing cheer that went up from a large crowd in the Cannock Market Place as the wounded soldiers loaded up in the motor lorry, and speeded to the Camp Saturday night, shows the popularity of the soldiers [ones that had served, at least] and did as much good, probably, as the addresses at the meeting on war aims. This district is in no mood to tolerate pacifists or even pessimists. Like Englishmen it is known that the work has to be done and the people are prepared to put their “shoulders to the wheel” and push forward the business as rapidly as possible. That was what one in the audience at Bridgtown desired to do. He had suffered a sad loss by the war, but as he explained… he did not object, only in regard to the way some of the work was carried out. He was anxious to see the enemy thrashed after causing loss in the house.’ Unity over the struggle, the Cannock Courier would have you believe, was holding fast.
Views on our Friends and Foes
Let us start with our friends. There appears to be a dwindling in fund-raising activity when it comes to causes relating to our allies, with charitable causes seemingly more restricted to those at home – and more, causes relevant to the local area or its people (including wounded soldiers and prisoners of war) – rather than the Belgian Relief Fund and flag days for Russia or France, for example. Further, there seems to be a dearth of opinions printed in the local newspapers regarding the slow transition of the Russian state from an autocracy under Tsar Nicholas to a Soviet republic and their falling out of the war, as well as regarding the entering of the United States of America into it.
What do appear are little bites taken from national figures and, in fact, it is somewhat amusing to read a quote from David Lloyd George that is a swift volte-face after the abdication of Nicholas, and one that had ran contrary to the war aims written above. He appears in the national epitome of news in the Courier as saying: ‘The revolution whereby the Russian people have based their destinies on the sure foundation of freedom is the greatest service which they have yet made to the cause for which the Allied peoples have been fighting.’ Closer to home, a smattering of sympathy was displayed during an address to the war aims meeting in Hednesford, in the September, when the Reverend Thursby-Pelham said: ‘they were very sorry to observe what was taking place in Russia. But they were not going to give up because of Russia.’
It never ceases to amaze that the view of the foe that made it into the newspapers seldom included the Turks or Austro-Hungarians, but almost exclusively focussed on the Germans alone. The closest that anyone in Great Wyrley, ex-soldiers excepted, would have got to seeing a real German in 1917, unless they visited the prisoner of war camp on Cannock Chase, was through the Battle of the Ancre film, previously mentioned, that was screened extensively in the local area. Obviously, in the film the Germans could not appear as a fighting foe, as the cameramen were behind British lines, and so they appear in one of two ways: either as prisoners of war being searched or marched away, or as wounded.
What is interesting is that despite the propaganda campaigns the Germans, whilst made to look defeated, were also shown as human. This was likely done to show British in a morally superior light, however, there is no shying away from the fact that ‘Tommy’ and ‘Fritz,’ as the film calls them, could share a joke, cigarette or swop a helmet when the immediate threat of battle was lifted. The same is true of the wounded: the film making a point of how the two forces were treated equally by the medical staff.
While the language may have been tempered slightly their ardour was not, as while many men of the cloth were supportive of the war effort (but deplored the current state of affairs as Christians) others were unforgiving in their condemnation of the Germans as their judgment, having fled to brutish beasts, saw them lose reason – the Reverend Price has been mentioned previously over his ‘shirking’ comments. Such a moment, however, was again demonstrated at the patriotic gathering hosted by the Hawkins’ family and which was attended by both the Cheslyn Hay and the Great Wyrley parish councils.
This time it was the Reverend Shaw, from Wolverhampton, who said simplistically: ‘The War had been terrible as the Germans, especially the officers, had done so many inhuman actions, some of those would live forever in the minds of civilised nations. The speaker emphasised the fact that a long time before war was declared, he knew [my italics] the Germans were preparing, for he had heard and seen in the German newspapers the scheme that were being adopted, and when they did declare war, Britain was not prepared. None of the Allies were prepared but after three years of struggle and hardship, the speaker thanked God they were prepared now (loud applause)… [He] expressed the opinion that the Allies were progressing if not very fast it was “slow and sure,” and they would win with a great triumphal victory.’ Oh! For such vision.
Joining the Fight (Perceptions on Enlistment and Shirkers)
The day of relying on the volunteer soldier had now long since passed, however, saying that, we must not think that everyone that was conscripted from 1916 onwards was so unwillingly. While covered in more detail later, Edward Aulder Benton, one of Great Wyley’s fallen, is a good example of this. Benton, born in 1899, originally attested in March 1915 – he was in fact only 16 years old. Benton was discharged on the 14 August 1915, with a comment on his good character, after it came to the attention of the authorities that Edward was under-age. He went back to the mines, seemingly to drive ponies at Harrison’s pit on what is now Hazel Lane. On 7 March 1917 the lad turned eighteen and, despite the casualty rates, Benton went straight back to the recruitment office.
Again, despite the casualties, Great Wyrley liked to hear news of its heroes. When George Reaney returned home to Streets Lane, Landywood, in September, the Courier printed that he had been awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal in June – although it was actually the Military Medal – for bravery: he volunteered to carry an important message while under shell fire, and returned. Reaney, a former miner at the Plant pit, and now serving with Harrison’s Territorials, had later been gassed and was recovering at home on ten days furlough.
Similarly, Robert Handy, whose parents lived at the Lot in Cheslyn Hay (where Robert would be living at the opening of the Second World War), was an Acting Quartermaster Sergeant in the 8th South Staffordshire Regiment; he was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal and the Croix de Guerre (a French decoration) for an act of bravery and leadership in the April. It was reported in the Courier in June that his ‘parents have been warmly congratulated by many townspeople on the great success achieved by their son.’ Handy currently resides in Cheslyn Hay cemetery.
With the dead continuing to be listed in the newspapers, often with photographs, it is worth pausing to think upon the reaction to loss. The most obvious reaction was the continued push by local communities, be they geographic or organisational (a school or a business, for example) in nature, to list those men that were currently serving, had served but had been invalided out of the services, or had fallen in the fight. Bridgtown had been the first to organise this in 1916, and both Cheslyn Hay and Great Wyrley had then opted for semi-permanent shrines that were more commonly called Rolls of Honour.
Cheslyn Hay had started their ball rolling in late 1916 and at the beginning of 1917 they were busy fund-raising for the project – and with £15 3s 4d having been raised, the committee was in ‘communication with a prominent firm in Birmingham for the Roll of Honour to be erected.’ On Saturday 14 April a meeting was held at the Council school to decide upon the site for the Roll to be affixed. Two sites were identified: on a wall near Sidney Hawkins’ shop in High Street and on the wall adjacent to the Ivy House, facing Station Street (where the war memorial is). The High Street site was chosen, possibly because Sidney was a grocer and baker, who lived at his shop at 28 High Street – and 28 High Street was the next to his cousin’s home of Glenthorne.
The site of the Cheslyn Hay Roll of Honour, unveiled in April 1917 – between Glenthorne (effectivel the manor house of the village) and the Salem Church (the administrative headquarters of the village war effort). P Ford
The Courier reported: ‘An interesting ceremony took place at High Street, Cheslyn Hay, on Sunday afternoon [29 April], when a Roll of Honour was unveiled in commemoration of those of the township who have joined the Colours. Mr T A Hawkins presided, and over 600 persons were present. The proceedings commenced with the hymn “Oh God of Hosts” followed by a prayer by Mr T. Weetman. The Chairman then sympathetically remarked that this constituted a red letter day for Cheslyn Hay. The brave men who had gone from the township must not forgotten. Every person most do something towards gaining a victory over the Germans. The names of those inscribed on the design were a credit to the district as well as to themselves, and may God bless them.’
It went on: ‘Mr Brough then read the dedicatory address that had been specially prepared by the Reverend R. T. Rowley, in this the gentleman stated that he desired to publicly thank the Committee for inscribing the names of his two sons, and he felt it a honour to see their names enrolled. The meeting was for the purpose of commemorating the bravery of all those who had gone from the township to defend their freedom, their homes and their country. Victory must be theirs for they could not live under the barbarism and inhuman actions of the Germans. Let them then pray that God will bless them and give them a triumphal victory. The hymn “In God Our Help in Ages Past” was then sung.’
The speeches continued with an address by Mr T. Weetman: ‘the lads of the township, said Mr Weetman, were noble not because they had joined the Army, but because they had sacrificed or had offered their lives in a fight for a just and righteous cause. T. Hawkins remarked that their hearts would no doubt be sadder when it was observed that out of the 303 names beautifully written on the design, 25 of their brave lads had sacrificed their lives and died the deaths of heroes [it was announced in the next edition of the Cannock Advertiser that William Potts had added to the tally, having been killed by a shell]. Still, it was comforting to think that they had such heroes. He then requested Mr John Farnell, an old and respected citizen, who had six sons at the war, and three had fallen, to unveil the “Roll of Honour” which was a credit to the committee and also to the township. Mr Farnell stepped forward, but was touched with emotion and with a tear in his eye he performed the unveiling ceremony remarking with very deep emotion “God bless the lads”… the size is 4 feet by 4 feet and contains a photograph of the king and a massive Union Jack. The names were excellently written by Mrs Allan, headmistress of the Girls Council School. The proceedings closed with those present heartily singing the National Anthem.’
For Great Wyrley the question began at the Parish Council meeting on 4 April (Courier, 7 April), when the clerk put forward to the meeting that: ‘other districts had organised a Roll of Honour in commemoration of those “Boys” in their respective places and he thought it would only be proper to institute a similar thing. The other members present expressed their appreciation of the Clerk’s suggestion, and ultimately it was decided on the motion of Mr Rowen and supported by Mr Goodwin and Mr Smith, that a “Roll of Honour” should be instituted in the Parish. It was also decided that the whole of the Council with the Red Cross Society should make all necessary arrangements.’
A Great Wyrley Memorial committee was formed and it was decided that a form be produced for those that had a relative they wished to put forward for inclusion. The form needed to be completed before 21 September 1917, supplying the basic details of name, rank and any distinction gained. Often, relatives would complete it with the name of the regiment in which the person served and/or a regimental number. The form was then returned to the Parish Clerk, Walter Simkin, for processing. The scheme, however, would not come to fruition until the following year.
Public displays of personal loss came in many forms, and non as powerful as that of John Farnell as he struggled to keep it together while he unveiled the Cheslyn Hay Roll of Honour that included the names of three of his dead sons and six in total. Some grieving families made use of the newspapers, like Wilfred North’s of Great Wyrley, to convey their loss, and some, like Agnes Degg of Hednesford, did so over a period of years in order to remember her husband, John Henry, who fell on the first day of the Somme.
Some families, of course, kept their grief more private, such as the Woodhouse family after the loss of their son Reggie in 1918. When Ernest Thomas died in Egypt in 1917, from illness, his sister, a teacher at Landywood School, was noted in the log book on 8 August as being absent due to the news received over his death; saying that, she was back teaching the following day. Finally, there were those in purgatory – as their loved one was declared missing rather than dead. Percy Mears went missing in action in November 1917 and his mother, heartbreakingly, wrote to the Liverpool newspapers, as he was in the Liverpool Regiment, asking if anyone had news of him. Eventually, the Captain of his outfit wrote that he had been officially declared dead.
For those not of military age, unfit or not engaged in work of national importance, or even if they were, the early months of 1917 saw the bringing forward of a government proposed scheme – called the National Service Scheme – in which volunteers registered themselves and then they could be reassigned to any work, in any place, that the government so chose. The scheme was understandable but had drawbacks, and there was, like conscription after voluntary recruitment, a veiled threat that the scheme could lead to compulsory home labour service (indeed, this was written into the original articles penned by Neville Chamberlain, the scheme Director-General: Courier 31 March 1917).
There were other issues that really needed to be thought through: if labour could be moved around then some areas could be further depopulated and, if the work that a registered person was moved to was at a lower rate of pay than the they received currently for their employment then it would be topped-up by the government – which meant people were doing the same work for different rates of pay, which is not good for unity or morale. Millions of forms were produced with the anticipation that it would attract registrations, and many meetings were arranged up and down the country to explain it.
Locally, after a Council meeting, there had been an initial public meeting held on 15 March at the New Hall in Cannock that was advertised with the slogan: ‘We have given our men. We have given our money. Shall we hesitate to give our service?’ The meeting, according to the papers, was well attended and Cannock trotted out its great and good – social, political and religious – with the main speaker being local M.P Captain George Lloyd DSO (now sporting his military rank and decorations). The programme basically consisted of an epitome of the war up to that point and the moral pushing of defeating German militarism. When it came to the actual scheme, the work was mainly three-fold: munitions, that ‘they would be supplying the men in the trenches, and they would only be doing their duty to the country,’ coal production, and the supply of foodstuffs. A vote, at the end of the meeting, endorsed the scheme and the event closed with a rendition of the National Anthem.
National Service Scheme week in the Cannock area was held on the last week of March, and shopkeepers were encouraged to place posters in their windows to promote the scheme that was aimed at ‘all persons between the ages of 18 and 61.’ The week was to open with a public meeting, accompanied by the band of the 1st Training Reserve Battalion (16th Battalion, Durham Light Infantry) in the Market Place, Cannock, on Saturday 24 March. Meetings then followed on: Tuesday 27 March, at the Council school at Chadsmoor; Wednesday 28 March, at 7pm, at the United Methodist Chapel in Bridgtown (addressed by Mr E. Dennis M.P. and Mr D. Cawdron); with other meetings daily at Littleworth, Cannock Wood, Heath Hayes and Hednesford. These meetings offered similar addresses.
The log book for Landywood School shows that it was used to promote the scheme that week, somehow, as Henshall makes the point – and not negatively against the scheme but in his capacity as headteacher – that the use of the hall had adversely affected the school exams. No reference can yet be found to a meeting being held either in Landywood, Great Wyrley or Cheslyn Hay – which is very unlikely. As to the take-up of the scheme, it is difficult to assess; saying that, the Courier did report on 7 April, the day after the United States entered the war, that in Heath Hays ‘The National Service Scheme has not proved very successful in the township so far as enrolment is concerned, for from the reports received the forms were not utilised. There was a very poor percentage of papers filled in.’
The public retained a healthy disdain for those that could be seen, or even felt, were profiting from the war. One way profiteering was done was through the adulteration of a product, and our friend Job Arrowsmith was again fined by the Cannock magistrates – this time £20 – for watering his milk down. A second way was simply by increasing the price, and dissatisfaction was clearly shown at a meeting of the Cannock Chase Miners Federation on 1 June 1917: ‘The following resolution was passed and ordered to be sent to the Press and the Prime Minister:- “That we express and indignation and protest against the profiteering and exploitation that is going on in this district in connection with the commodities that are necessary for the industrial workers, and call upon the Government to adopt and put into operation at the earliest moment the resolution passed at the Miners Conference on the 17th last. That the Government take entire control of the food supply, and fix prices in order to secure an equitable distribution of the same amongst all classes of the people, and at the same time put a stop to the shameful profiteering at present taking place in this country.”’
The ‘shirker’ was still vociferously targeted by some of those at the front, with Wyrley Scrapper adding his thoughts in the Courier during the Third Ypres campaign in August 1917: ‘I still read that there are a batch of men squealing before the Tribunals to get out of Military Service, and I am sorry to read that the majority get exemptions. It doesn’t matter what category a man is [a physical grading from A1 to C3], of those men, who, when they knew they were liable for service, went into the coal mines, and again, as soon as the government started fetching them out of the pits, 60 per cent of them went making munitions, and to “put the lid on it,” all got a good man’s wage, and who absolutely knew nothing about munitions. Well, in fact they never saw the inside of a foundry, and yet they are allowed to stay at home and indulge in the luxury of a good home, while their pals are shedding their life’s blood on the battle fields of France.’
Scrapper went on, a little erratically: ‘They go to these Tribunals and spin a good yarn [and] come away with a further period of three months… It is time that these gentlemen realised that there is a war on. They want a lecture on the phrase “We don’t want to lose you; but you’ve got to go. Don’t have any excuse.” We have none here, and we have a right to criticize the ‘blighters.’ We cannot go up to our officer and say I won’t do any work to-night, Sir. It is more than our life is worth… Don’t squirm when you know you have got to come. It is not at a bad life. When your little children grow up and learn of the War, and read how the little children were murdered, they will say “What did you do in the great War. Daddy?” Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Some of you scorned us when we were in civvies, and tried to rule us, but that will “about turn” we get back “Compre.’ If Fritz happens to hop over one of these fine mornings, and knocks you through the kitchen floor, you’ll wonder who hit you. But if it is not you who will get it [then it’s] the little kiddies (God bless em). Well I hope the cowards will take stock of this letter.’
Conscientious objectors, it has been said, could appeal to the tribunal, however, if the appeal was dismissed then the person was deemed to have joined the military and could be liable to imprisonment if they refused to serve. This, in theory, could be a repeat sentence if they refused to serve again upon release. There was an interesting tribunal case involving a conscientious objector that took place in Cannock in June 1917, interesting in the questions put to him and the answers given.
The 31-year-old, C1 classed, appellant was employed as an attendant at the Cannock Workhouse and claimed, correctly as it can be verified by the 1911 census, that he had studied divinity and had once thought about taking holy orders before converting to the Swedenborg creed (The New Church). Our appellant was asked if he thought it a sin to join the army, to which he replied that he would not kill but would go as far as his conscience would allow in non-combative work even if that were in the army; he went on: ‘It is only persons of education who realise that if you take a man’s life you can’t give it back. The right to live is the first of all nationalities.’
Next came the entrapment question: what would he do if he saw a German in the act of killing his daughter – would he not kill him, if necessary, to save his daughter’s life? He chose the path that he would do as he would with a criminal lunatic at the workhouse – ‘by taking the implements of murder away from him.’ He then made the point that while the workhouse Guardians did not endorse his appeal, they did state that he was doing ‘useful work’ as a male attendant at the workhouse. After ‘considerable deliberation’ it was decided to give a three-month exemption provided he remained at the workhouse. No further reports of the case have yet come to light, so he may never have left the workhouse – indeed, we find him on the 1921 census as the vagrant supervisor at Swansea Workhouse suggesting it is likely that he had stayed at Cannock. He passed away at the age of 95, in 1980.
To be continued…
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