Great Wyrley’s Great War: 1914 (1 of 2)

This is, after the introduction and the first section on the Wyrley area prior to the Great War, the second section on Great Wyrley and the Great War, and examines, in two parts, the war months of 1914. It looks at the initial responses in Wyrley, Cheslyn Hay and other areas, to recruitment, fund-raising, food economy, as well as local support and understanding of the war, along with its views of friend and foe alike. Please remember, as stated in the introduction, the evidence used is not confined to Great Wyrley, and further military, along with national events, are used for context.

1914: The War Months

The War in Brief (British Perspective)

A rather sobering line can be found in the Cannock Advertiser of 8 August 1914, the first edition printed after Britain had entered the war on 4 August, that depressingly stated: ‘The black clouds of a European war which have been gathering ominously for weeks have at last burst… the deep underlying causes have been gathering strength for years.’ In truth, there had been little reported in the Cannock press up to the point, even in the pages devoted to the epitome of national news, as perhaps the speed of events over the final fortnight had left the local weekly papers a little behind. Great Wyrley people were not oblivious of events, however, as their understanding of these ‘black clouds’ would likely have come more so from the daily national newspapers as tensions increased.

In order to put the domestic events covered here into context, let us start with a summary of the international, national and military events for the war months of 1914. After the assassination of the Archduke things appeared to calm, although this was far from the case behind the scenes. Austro-Hungary turned to Germany for support as they prepared an unacceptable and humiliating ultimatum knowing that Serbia could not accept. Austria received the unequivocal support of the Kaiser and opted to declare war on Serbia on 28 July. Serbia appealed to Russia, the mother state for Slav peoples, for help when Austria attacked a few days later. British calls for mediation were supported by all except Austria and Germany.

Russia mobilised and so did Germany, and a German declaration of war against Russia followed on 1 August. Russia was allied to France and so Germany faced a war on two fronts if France decided to become involved – which it was obligated to do, and did so. Germany pre-empted a French assault by declaring war on France on 3 August and marching into Belgium to outflank the French in a lightening move to knock France out of the war before turning to face Russia. Belgium, particularly the garrisons of Liege and Antwerp, supplied the first war heroes and the epithet ‘gallant little’ became attached to any mention of the country.

The invasion of Belgium prompted the British to join the conflict on 4 August, which instigated two rushes: financial and military. The war started over a bank holiday that was extended to cover the fact that a financial crisis was unfolding, and the London Stock Exchange had to close its doors on 31 July for the first time in its 117-year history. The banks were concerned over falling share prices, frozen markets and were fearful that there would be a run on them – as in, depositors seeking to withdraw their savings in gold sovereigns – which, if sufficient numbers did, would bankrupt the institution. What was known of the banking crisis locally is difficult to say as the war overshadowed it, and while no run on any local bank was reported in the Cannock press the Staffordshire Advertiser ventured a little more by saying, in its 8 August edition, that the banks in Stafford had been closed from the previous Monday to the Friday, but had not experienced a ‘run’ when they re-opened.

The Bank of England started to issue and circulate en masse banknotes for denominations under £5, so they could be used in daily transactions and save the gold and silver coinage (indeed, gold never returned); this they achieved, remarkably, within two or three days and Great Wyrley people, like everywhere, had to get used to a change in the monetary system possibly only overshadowed by decimalisation in 1971. The only real mention in the local papers was a paragraph in the Cannock Advertiser on 8 August reassuring everyone that paper money was ‘as good as gold.’

The military rushed men to the front immediately where their first serious engagement saw them put up valiant resistance at both Mons and at Le Cateau, but they were required to fall back to avoid being outflanked. The German plan (the Schlieffen plan) to encircle Paris was finally checked by the French and British at the Battle of the Marne in the September, then, falling back after the Battle of the Aisne, the Germans dug-in along the Chemin des Dames ridge and trench warfare began.

Further north, in October, the Germans launched a major offensive against the British at Ypres, Belgium, but were repulsed with heavy costs on both sides – indeed, as their young recruits were mown down by the old British regulars, the Germans would later call it the ‘slaughter of the innocents.’ After Ypres there was a continual line of unsophisticated trenches from Switzerland to the English Channel.

The British Army’s land war, usually starting as smaller contingents in larger Empire-led or Allied-led forces, would widen from the western front: with Indian troops, they joined a much larger Japanese force to blockade the German leased Chinese port of Tsingtao from August to November that year; after the Ottoman Empire had joined the war, the British, with a much larger Indian force, were landed in Mesopotamia (Iraq) to safeguard oil supplies, which they did after securing Basra in the November; similarly, to protect her trade routes, the ‘Force in Egypt’ was established, again predominantly with Indian troops at first, to protect the Suez Canal from attack in the August. An African campaign was also well underway in 1914, predominantly prosecuted by Indian, African and South African troops.

Faith in the Royal Navy, in the eyes of the public, took a hammering in the opening months of the war: after its initial success at Heligoland Bight in August, the following month saw the Aboukir, Hogue and Cressy, along with nearly 1500 men, sent to the bottom by a single U-boat while on patrol in the relatively safe waters of the North Sea; Admiral Cradock’s squadron was lost at Coronel in the November, although this was reversed when Von Spee’s squadron was in turn destroyed in the December off the Falkland Islands. Nevertheless, the year ended on a sour note after questions were asked of the Navy as to how German ships could steam up the coast and shell Whitby, Scarborough and Hartlepool with little reply. While Wyrley was not in danger of attack from the sea, the British public were now vulnerable – and felt it.

The Local Home Front: Understanding and Supporting the War

It is a moot point as to how well those at home understood what conditions were like at the front, but one way that non-combatants began to empathise with what was happening, especially as news and letters from the front were censored, was through direct contact with returning men. This was not about those killed in action, as they stayed abroad, or welcoming home men on leave as leave wasn’t given in those early months, but local communities coming face-to-face with the wounded.

While local hospitals (Walsall, Wolverhampton, Lichfield and Hammerwich) started to swell with the wounded brought by ever more visible trains, lorries and ambulances – indeed, the Courier reported on 3 October on those heading through Wolverhampton – the general public could only experience those patients dressed in blue fatigues, those fit enough to convalesce at home, or the increasing number that had been discharged as unfit for further service.

The local newspapers often, and enthusiastically, printed the details of men like Private Frederick Simpson: Simpson, of Watling Street, Bridgtown, had been a regular in the Grenadier Guards before the war and would make more than one edition of the local papers as he had received seven separate wounds from shell splinters while trying to retrieve a fallen comrade during the First Battle of Ypres. Simpson, having first made the papers on his return to Blighty around 14 November, made them again at Christmas when he was reported as being back at home and, no doubt, telling his stories.

We do have one extraordinary local account of someone from the home front that decided to act upon his need to seek the war experience: in October 1914, John Lazenby, a Walsall travel agent, decided to go and visit the recent battlefields on the Marne. Lazenby managed to travel in an official capacity with Doctor Harry Shore, Walsall Medical Officer for Health, and both wrote accounts for the Walsall Observer (7 November 1914). Lazenby never got to the battlefields as he was stopped by the French before he got there, but was happy to embellish his experiences for the benefit of the readers; however, to give him credit, while his account is jingoistic he did not turn away from the devastation caused by the ‘barbarity of the Kaiser’s Hun,’ and the war graves he came upon.

While it is understandable that soldiers would accumulate war memorabilia to recall their own experiences – for example, Private Albert Godwin, a member of the Bridgtown Cricket Club, retained the walnut sized piece of shrapnel that wounded him at the Aisne – Shore made an interesting point in his account regarding the non-combatant understanding of war through collecting battlefield souvenirs. Shore complained that he never got hold of any as the French had secured any fragments of shrapnel, while ‘enterprising farmers in the district had hidden away dozens of German rifles, helmets etc., awaiting a favourable opportunity of bringing them to light and securing a good price from curio-hunters.’ Clearly, according to Shore, not everyone sought souvenirs to experience war – they were lucrative, too.

It is a general view that the war was enthusiastically greeted by all – and if you take the photographs of those people that took to London streets on 4 August, those men that joined-up within days of the declaration or, more locally, the 20,000 Cannock Chase miners that offered to pay sixpence fortnightly to the new National Relief Fund while the war lasted, then it is easy to see why this view is held. While it was received by many this way, it has to be remembered that taking to the streets may have been through a natural curiosity or seeking to the need to be involved in a sweeping and momentous event rather than actual celebration – while contributing to a welfare fund may come more from humanity than patriotism.

Many did greet the war with enthusiasm, but there was also hostility that was not just based on pacifism: Queen Mary was not against the war, only that it was over ‘tiresome little Serbia,’ the Bank of England begged the politicians to keep Britain out of it over fears that it would ruin the economy, and international socialism was against the war on ideological grounds; saying that, the Labour party, the Suffrage movement and the Liberal Manchester Guardian newspaper were committed to the war effort once war was declared.

Criticism of the conflict was acknowledged, and the Cannock Advertiser on 8 August conceded that there were ‘not a few in the district who regarded England’s participation with complete scepticism.’ Richard Cooper, Walsall MP, openly acknowledged the same at a local recruitment drive at one Walsall football match before making an appeal for unification in a speech that was reported in the Walsall Observer (17 October 1914): ‘[that men in the crowd] might have some criticism in their breast, but he reminded them… no matter what was said before the war, and no matter what was going to be said when it was over, there was going to be no carping criticisms to-day.’ As a microcosm of Britain, the day Great Wyrley went to war was likely the most united it would be, at least in veneer, until the armistice.

The Local Home Front: Views of Germany

While the local Cannock newspapers were controlled over what they could print (more the news they themselves received), they took more of on an active role regarding public morality, or as the Courier put it on 5 September ‘the justice of our cause,’ with the degradation of Germany and Germanic culture ever present. Demonising the enemy is no surprise and was carried out rigorously from the moments the first shots were fired in 1914, and would be reported either as direct news or through printed letters from the front (assuming these were genuine): Darlaston soldier Edward Ralph Edwards, a reservist who was recalled in 1914, wrote to friends (the letters are preserved at the Walsall Local History Centre) condemning the ‘German sneaks’ that machine-gunned the company stretcher-bearers – this the ‘sneaks’ had done after the medics had retrieved a wounded German soldier, but during in the process of retrieving a British one.

Attacks on Germany in the newspapers at the opening of the war centred around cultural barbarism (what were would describe today as ethnic traits), their savagery over their conduct (war crimes) and breaking the moral code of war (dirty tricks). As such, the Cannock Courier opened-up in its ‘notes on news’ on 5 September with the destruction of the cultural ‘treasures’ of Louvain, countless accounts of the murdering of Belgian civilians (especially women and children) and, for the dirty tricks, the Cannock Advertiser had printed on 12 August that the Germans had flown white flags and then fired on the Belgian soldiers.

However much these propaganda stories were based on truth – and there is no doubt Louvain was sacked and Belgian civilians were shot – hysteria was building up regarding the fear of any ‘alien’ at home, and there was a witch hunt on those that had German ancestry or were simply believed to have pro-German sympathies. Deformation went on at a high level, with even large companies libelling each other: in September, J Lyons & Co (Lyons Tea) brought an action against Lipton’s Tea and advertised in the Courier to announce it. Lyons stated that Liptons had accused them of being ‘German’ and that anyone buying their tea was, in effect, trading with the enemy (a crime in itself) – Lyons said they were, in fact, an all-British company, with all-British directors, 14,000 all-British shareholders and their produce was sold by 160,000 all-British shopkeepers.

There were cases close to home that highlighted the feeling against Germany, and with the first examined here just how accusation or rumour could be used to undermine an individual: Walter Gask was a butcher living on Watling Street, Bridgtown, and back in 1885 he had married Bertha Sewell; on 5 September, Gask had to take to the pages of the Cannock Advertiser to publicly state that he was English as whispers, likely over the origins of his surname or rumours over his wife’s Christian name, had clearly come to his attention and were affecting his business. The census shows that Gask had been born in Leicester, to parents also from Leicester, while Bertha had been born in Manchester, to parents originally from Coventry.

The second case shows how aliens were controlled as soon as war commenced: on 29 August 1914 the Cannock Advertiser carried the story of Ernst Braun, a 50-year old tailor who was originally from Konigsberg, Prussia. Braun had been arrested in Cannock after entering the police station to request a permit to stay in the workhouse. After casually mentioning that he was a German and that he was heading to Birmingham for employment, where he worked 10 years previously, he was arrested and charged for being more than 5 miles from his place of registration without a valid travel permit. He had come from Hanley and had a permit to travel to Stafford, but not onwards to Cannock. He was sentenced to 6-months imprisonment, the hard labour remitted, with a recommendation for deportation afterwards.

There were attempts at calming the rhetoric: the Reverend Rushbrooke had spent the first months of the war interned in Germany and, at a lecture in Walsall at the end of the year (printed in the Walsall Advertiser, 16 January 1915), called for reason to prevail and to offer sympathy to those registered aliens that held no ill-will to the country they lived in; this, it seems, was a forlorn hope – for even the First Lord of the Admiralty, Louis Battenberg, was forced to resign within months of the war starting due to his Germanic heritage.

Enlistment, War Service and Shirking

The question of enlistment was another moral crusade for the newspapers. Despite the popular view held by many of the initial volunteers that ‘it will be over by Christmas,’ which was one shared by some senior military staff, the Secretary of State for War, Lord Kitchener, knew it would be a protracted affair and forecast that that the war would go on until 1917 and would need a million men. To start, Kitchener called for 100,000 volunteers, however, by the end of 1914 over a million men would come forward nationally; Staffordshire, however, was not the most forthcoming county, with only 19,668 having volunteered by early December – and, according to the Staffordshire Advertiser, seemingly less from South Staffordshire than the North.

One of the ubiquitous cartoons (rather than straight-forward appeals) pulling on patriotism and duty.  P Ford. 2018. Cannock Library.

In order for married men (yes, including Great Wyrley) – or those single men with dependents (including common law families) – to join the army they needed security for those dependents, as army pay was a lot less than they were used to; indeed, it could be as low as a shilling a day for the basic infantry soldier. This security would come, excluding charity and incentives from employers, through the state as it immediately started a separation allowance scheme; this scheme involved the stoppage of a part of the soldier’s pay – destined for the dependent – along with a considerable top-up from the Government. The allowance a dependent would get would depend upon the rank of the soldier and regiment they were attached to, along with any further dependents (such as children). Initially, a separated wife would receive 11/1 (11 shillings and 1 penny) a week along with 1/9 for a child, but this was swiftly raised to 12/6 a week and 2/6 for any child. This was for subsistence, not luxury. Children were considered as such until the age of 16 for girls and 14 for boys – the 2/6 became 2s after the fourth child.

Army service was not limited to the regulars and territorials in 1914, as a third force – a sort of Dad’s Army of its day – was also created in response to the opening of hostilities. The Volunteer Training Corps (VTC) were initially not considered a part of the Army, so volunteers were expected to purchase their own uniform, equipment and weapon – which amounted to around £7, a figure difficult for working men to achieve. Further, they could not wear khaki and so if an individual purchased a military-styled uniform then it was one of Lovatt green. In truth, other than a GR (Georgius Rex – King George V) armband they could actually wear what they liked.

The Volunteer Training Corps would evolve through the war, but it was initially targeted at three kinds of men: those under 19 years, who would then be expected to join-up at that age; those that were of military age, then 18-38 years, but were in reserved occupations; and those then considered too old for military service. The object of the force was to train men in the military basics (drill, shooting etc.) in case of an invasion and to take on home duties that could deflect much needed manpower, such as the guarding of vulnerable points of infrastructure at risk of sabotage. A Walsall battalion was raised swiftly.

The military’s logistical problems in 1914 were not confined to kiting-out the wave of new recruits, but also where to house and train them. The issues of housing and training would have local consequences, and the news was carried in the local Cannock newspapers of 21 November that made public knowledge that an area was being cleared of furze at ‘Penkridge Bank’ on the Chase for a military camp; indeed, a Wolverhampton firm was awarded the contract to build 2000 huts (for 20-30 men each), along with a railway. The local papers covered the issue further on 26 December, with the Courier stating that a more than satisfactory water supply had been planned and that the number of troops that maybe accommodated had actually been underestimated: ‘it is evident that the authorities have awaked up to the fact that the Chase is a very suitable place for a camp.’ Indeed, a second camp was planned for Brocton.

Initially, it is not hard to imagine that many local businesses, particularly the drinking establishments, in places like Rugeley, Hednesford, Cannock, Stafford, Walsall and even Great Wyrley, would likely have been very enthusiastic at such news – the jingle of coinage clouding sober judgement on the problems that the mass movement into the area of such numbers of men could bring – men that were being caged-up for long periods, away from their families, while they trained.

As much as calling men to arms was a crusade for the Cannock newspapers, so was the opposite – calling out the shirkers, slackers, cowards and deserters. The local view of what constitutes a coward, shirker and other terms will be charted over the war, for it changes over the duration as the effects of war became more visible; while some men cared little, for others it would be the fear of a lasting reputational damage (remember the recruitment poster: what did you do in the Great War, Daddy?) that pushed some reluctant men into joining the army, some to opt for short-term humiliation rather than face complete character assassination, and some to self-destruction.

The White Feather Brigade was started by Admiral Fitzgerald, but was mainly executed by women that thrust white feathers, as a symbol of cowardice, into the hands of men not in uniform; this simple criteria, of not being in uniform, could actually see feathers dished out – although this did not seem to matter to those doing the dishing – to actual soldiers, men that had attested and were waiting to be mobilised, those invalided out, those engaged in war work (which is why a war service badge was later introduced), or those that had tried to attest but were rejected for service as unfit.

The movement was the subject of more than one correspondent in the Cannock Advertiser and, to be fair to the newspaper, they did print different perspectives. Writing on 12 September Old Soldier was very clear: ‘let a Brigade be formed in Cannock and Bridgtown… to bring such slackers who hide behind their mother’s skirts to a sense of their duty.’ The following week, George Higgins replied in an equally emphatic way to the contrary; Higgins had perhaps been targeted himself, and stated that if a local brigade was formed in Cannock he hoped that the men that received such feathers would ‘forget for a few seconds that chivalry exists.’

Having undertaken considerable research on individual soldiers, those that fell short of army discipline usually did so while training or away from the front, however, there was a palpable fear of the accusation of cowardice – even accusations from non-combatants – when at the front. Private W Kimberley, of the 2^nd South Staffordshire Regiment, and a native of Wimblebury, was wounded during the retreat from Mons; Kimberley’s wound, however, was not from bullet or shrapnel but a broken ankle that he sustained while scaling a 12ft wall. Something had clearly rattled him, however, for even though his condition was serious enough for him to return to England to convalesce, he wrote to his friends stating that: ‘I am no coward; I shall go back again and fight like a British soldier.’

The Controlling of the People

Almost immediately, and it was said that Winston Churchill coined the phrase, the official policy of the government was to adopt a ‘business as usual’ approach. The principle was to simply continue, whether we are talking of an organisation or private individual, as though nothing extraordinary was going on. The idea was to maintain stability and this was understandable, however, it was also somewhat naïve as within days of the outbreak of war the Defence of the Realm Act (DORA) was passed.

DORA (it was subsequently added to over the duration of the war) would drastically curtail the civil liberties of every person in the country. Today, we would think of the Act as authoritarian, anti-democratic and, irrespective of the period in question, the suspension of habeas corpus, allowing imprisonment without a trial, is a very dark practice. Saying that, things are never that easy: first, as already mentioned, Britain was not a democracy in 1914 and so many could not view the Act from that perspective – just as an attack on the ‘fundamental rights of free citizens’ (as a correspondent described it in the Courier, 29 December 1917); and second, while criticism is always fair, it loses its sting if it does not come with the provision of an alternative course of action.

The Act basically sought to protect against anything that could compromise Britain and its allies or assist the enemy, whether deliberately intended or not, in any way; therefore, while it gave some clear instructions as to what was to be considered illegal, other matters were quite subjective. The Act impacted on individuals and institutions alike and would seem to cover everything from the sublime to the ridiculous, with the death penalty as its ultimate sanction. Let us start with some examples of what seem to be the idiotic, however, we need to put the Act into the context of its time and offer, if not agreement, some understanding as to why these rules were put in place with the aim, it is suggested, more to deter than to punish.

There was, from the beginning of the war, a fear of Zeppelins that was disproportionate to their actual threat and the first DORA showed this by seemingly going a little over-the-top with some of its legislation: as such, it would become illegal to burn garden waste on your Gorsey Lane allotment or for the local kids to fly a kite on Middle Hill – just in case any enemy aviators, who just happened to be overhead at that specific moment, spotted them and used them for a bombing target.

While this seemed a little harsh, there was a real fear: for while Wyrley streets initially remained fully lit there had been a reduction in the lighting levels within Walsall – as demonstrated by the Chief Constable’s report to Council: ‘In accordance with a circular from the Home Office dated 21 October… to prevent the use of powerful elevated lights or sky signs which might attract aircraft… I caused electric lights to be reduced at the Theatres, Cinema Shows, particularly outside, and arranged with the Electrical Engineer to place caps over the electric street lights [sic].’

Moving away from the Zeppelins, had the children of Landywood School been discouraged from playing conkers in their school playground to promote the war effort – and there is no entry in the school log book to say Mr Henshall formerly instructed the children such – it would seem laughable; however, as horse chestnuts were used for the production of acetone, and that was needed for making shells, then you can understand that a ban would have actually made sense. Indeed, scouts, guides and school children were employed in gathering them all over the country, and while there were no Great Wyrley or Cheslyn Hay scout or guide troops until just after the war, local children most likely gathered them as an instruction to do so was printed in the Cannock Courier on 29 September 1917.

Another prohibition, and one that would have been felt in Cheslyn Hay’s New Inns, was the need to obtain a permit for pigeon breeding/racing: this action seems bizarre, but becomes understandable when coupled with the spy hysteria whipped up by the national press and wide-circulating magazines like John Bull with which the war opened. This prohibition was, of course, about the sending of secret messages, but the public complied: the Cannock Advertiser reported, on 7 November 1914, that 800 pigeon keepers had registered with the Cannock magistrates (so including those at Great Wyrley) by that date.

It is easy to demonstrate how the Act was very subjective: it stands to reason that it would become a crime to photograph or sketch any military installation, however, you could put yourself at risk by taking a pencil and paper near any site that could be deemed of importance, and so you could be taking a chance if you sketched the flight of canal locks at Churchbridge or the workings of Harrison’s mine; further, loitering was now a breach of the Act, however, it is a question of just how long does it take before you could be approached for loitering, and would it be sooner if this loitering was near to a sabotage target like the railway under Shant Bridge?

The Act also allowed the government to take possession of land or requisition buildings for the war effort, and while there is no evidence that this happened in Great Wyrley, Whitehall School in Walsall was used, likely as a stabling point for troop movements, through 1914 – to the frustration of a head-teacher that saw her children’s education suffer.

Another authoritarian part of the Act was the immediate introduction of increased censorship that targeted what people said, what people wrote and what people saw. The first two were actively encouraging self-censorship, while the latter was a blatant control mechanism to steer the public into what was considered the right way of thinking; to be fair, many were willing to be steered and more were already there.

Conversely, when convenient, there was also a complete lack of censorship: local newspapers had always reported on, humiliating them by name and address, those that were dragged before the Magistrates Court irrespective of innocence or guilt, however, in 1914 they would go on to name those that they deemed moral or immoral with regard to what they considered the nation’s need; as such, wounded soldiers and prisoners of war would be identified and praised, several examples being used in this narrative, while those that went absent were openly shamed – as with ‘William Hassell (24), of 11 house, 12 court, Lower Rushall-street [Walsall]… was charged with being a deserter from the South Staffordshire Regt.’ (Walsall Observer, 12 December 1914).

Censoring what people said was not just about them giving away information that could be valuable to the enemy, more famous in its ‘careless talk costs lives’ incarnation during the Second World War, but was also aimed at saying things that could undermine public morale even it was the truth. Cannock correspondent An Old Miner, writing in the Courier in February 1916, supported this stance and stated: ‘every word has to be truly weighed. Every action guarded, even truth must hide her head, at times, lest she run it against the broad interests of the nation [sic].’

Letters were open to censorship, especially those to and from the front, however, just how rigorous this was is open to debate. Sergeant Jervis from Cannock proves the flexibility of this censorship when he wrote a letter home that was published in the Cannock Advertiser on 14 November 1914, for while it gave no military secrets away it could be argued that it should have been censored as it was both graphic and morale sapping: ‘Hell upon Earth… a mate and five others killed… I was buried in a trench with a serious head wound.’ Perhaps not the greatest read if you were thinking of joining-up.

One form of censorship, both subtle and unequivocal, would come through cinema newsreels and the martial films they screened. The Cannock Picture Palace was a good example of this where, in the October, they screened the Battle of Louvain as anti-German propaganda and The Great Spy Raid which fuelled the fear of German spies that were believed to be at large in the country. The Central Cinema at Blackfords screened a film on the Victoria Cross in the November, no doubt to instil patriotism and encourage volunteering. Another form of controlling what people saw was through mass advertising campaigns; poster campaigns, on German barbarism and recruitment for example, were aimed at both men and women and their success with phrases such as ‘Women of Britain say – GO!’ and ‘Daddy, what did YOU do in the Great War?’ can be proved as they can still recalled today.

Control was mainly exerted through the newspapers. Initially, journalists were kept away from the front and news was passed to them through official channels to disseminate, however, it must have become obvious to most in Great Wyrley that what they were being fed was simply too good: at the same time the local papers were using headlines such as ‘Germany getting the worst of it… dead Germans in mounds [at Liege],’ ‘German cavalry avoid engagement,’ ‘Germany routed with the bayonet’ and ‘Germany admits defeat,’ questions must have been asked by the public that if this was the case, and ironically the Cannock Advertiser headline was accurate, why were the British retreating from Mons despite the ‘splendid work by our soldiers?’ Further, the Admiralty seemed to be more open than the Army as the sinking of HMS Amphion, the first casualty of the war and in which Walsall man William Henry Cash was to be the only telegrapher saved, was fully reported.

To Be Continued…