separation allowances discouraged married men. Others with dependants also took time to put domestic affairs in order. There was a particular link with employment, possibly as many as 480 000 men losing their jobs by the end of August 1914. Many others were placed on half time in the prevailing economic uncertainty at the outbreak of war. In Bristol, for example, 10 per cent of the work force was laid off in July 1914, and a further 26 per cent placed on short time. In August, the Local Government Board instructed charities to refuse relief to those eligible for enlistment. Nine out of every ten men laid off in the city enlisted, and Bristol’s unemployment fell by a full 1,5 per cent.
Significantly, enlistment dropped away rapidly once large government contracts were placed in the autumn for clothing, boots, munitions and other war essentials.
In the case of the South West, the abundance of the 1914 harvest, with small farming owner-occupiers prepared to offer incentives to labourers to remain on the land, contributed to significantly low rates of enlistment compared to the national average. In Cornwall, while extraction industries such as china clay and tin were suffering economic depression from falling prices, the labour force was used to economic cycles of boom and slump, and men appeared prepared to await better times rather than enlisting.7 In Scotland, it has been suggested that enlistment might be seen as a continuation of pre-war emigration.8
As might be expected, as young men tended generally to enlist before older men there was a direct correlation between average age and enlistment. From the beginning, there was also a degree of protectionism for key workers such as railwaymen and Admiralty employees who were «badged» with war service badges from December. Others enlisted under peer influence, joining because their friends had done so. The most obvious manifestation was the success of the «Pals» battalions, of which 115 were raised including the «Accrington Pals», Glasgow Corporation Tramways Battalion, «Grimsby Chums», and «Newcastle Commercials». Some reasons why men enlisted simply defy categorisation. Some may simply have enlisted on impulse. Sidney Rogerson of the 2nd West Yorkshire Regiment recalled his batman enlisted in an alcoholic haze after seeing a friend off to the front, but never recalled doing so, and «‹when the sergeant comes and claimed› him next morning he was as surprised as his wife was annoyed».9
A short war was anticipated. The reality was not only massive casualties, but also competing demands for manpower between the armed forces, industry and agriculture, as the conflict became one in which it was just as vital to out-produce as to out-fight the enemy. The manpower pool rapidly declined, with ever more desperate efforts to comb out every possible fighting man. The effective limit of volunteers was reached by December 1915, by which time it was clear that conscription must follow through a process of exhaustion. But conscription had long been an anathema in Britain. There was a long and agonised debate, the organisational milestones being the Householders’ Returns in November and December 1914, the National Register in July 1915, and the Derby Scheme of October to December 1915. The results of the latter finally forced Prime Minister Asquith’s hands. The «Bachelor’s Bill» in January 1916 deemed all single men and childless widowers between the ages of 18 and 41 to have enlisted. The wide discrepancies in medical examination and the numerous exemptions granted by military service tribunals resulted in fewer recruits than anticipated. Consequently, conscription was extended to all men aged between 18 and 41 in May 1916. Further extensions saw the combing out of more men, including many previously judged unfit, in April 1917; the conscription of allied citizens living in Britain in July 1917; and removal of yet further occupational exemptions in February 1918. The German spring offensives resulted in the extension of conscription in April 1918 to those aged up to 50, with provision to call up men to the age of 56 if the need arose, and also to extend conscription to Ireland.
In theory, conscription should have equalised the burden after 1916 but as elsewhere conscription was selective. There were always going to be men exempted by virtue of physical fitness, occupation, or even nationality. Medical boards exempted over a million men in the last twelve months of the war despite pressure on doctors to lower rejection rates. Of the 2,4 million men medically examined in 1917 and 1918, only 36 per cent were physically fit for service overseas. Rejection rates reflected pre-war deprivation but, in part, there was also an application of suspect criteria as to what constituted fitness: physical ability was too readily equated with stature. There was also social prejudice with Jews and, especially, Russian Jews automatically rejected as inferior. The military service tribunals that pronounced on claims for exemption have been perceived to be unduly influenced by military demands, and hostile to claims for exemption on conscientious grounds. It is clear, however, that they were ever mindful of local economic vitality, not least in rural areas, consciously mitigating national policy directives, and indulging in their own interpretation of economic interventionism.
Whatever the reasons for enlistment, the effect of what occurred in August and September 1914 was that certain groups were more willing to enlist than others. Seen from the perspective of sectoral distribution of occupation, some in Britain bore a proportionally high share of the military effort. By February 1916, Board of Trade sampling surveys, though not entirely reliable, suggested that whereas over 40 per cent of those engaged in the professions, entertainment, finance and commerce had enlisted, less than 30 per cent of those in industry as a whole, agriculture, or transport had done so. Thus, overall, «men engaged in commercial or distributive trades were in uniform and at risk for longer periods and in relatively larger numbers than were industrial workers, transport workers or agricultural workers».10 The cumulative effect of the way in which conscription was applied meant that there was no material change in the social composition of the British army after 1916. Later sampling surveys therefore show each of the occupational sectors remained in approximately the same relationship to one another with regard to the proportion of manpower enlisted in 1918 as in 1916. Variations within particular sectors such as manufacturing also remained unchanged.
Turning now to the adaptation of the army to citizen soldiers, naturally, there was an attempt to divest soldiers of civilian values and «recreate them in the army’s image» by inculcating appropriate military values. But citizen soldiers «were not social blanks waiting for the army to write its will upon them».11 While it was quite feasible for long-service regulars to be conditioned, it was far harder to separate the temporary soldier from civilian values. Initially, civilian perceptions and a lack of familiarity with military disciplinary codes saw unrest in the New Armies, though more trouble was ameliorated by volunteers’ patriotic enthusiasm, and the kindness of the public towards them. For many men, however, there was a degree of shock on arrival at camps in the autumn of 1914, and with the lack of equipment and organisation found there. Long hours spent in drill, physical training and route marching were immensely taxing. Problems were exacerbated by wet weather in October and November that badly affected the more exposed camps before hutted accommodation was ready. Equally, existing barracks and depots quickly became overcrowded. Grievances were readily communicated to families, the local press and to MPs. There was delay in issuing uniforms, men still appearing for some weeks in civilian clothes, or the so-called «Kitchener Blue» serge that began to be supplied in late September, and which led to men being ridiculed as looking like postmen, tram guards or convicts. Broomsticks and poles substituting for rifles were commonplace.
While the war clearly exposed men to experiences very different from those at home, it could never sever the link of a citizen army with civilian life, nor could it eradicate the social or regional diversity that had existed in civilian society. At the same time, the nature of civilian life was not unhelpful. Wartime bonding was often a continuation of the kind of social links familiar from workplace, schools, youth organisations, societies, and clubs. A sense of community and social cohesiveness was well engrained through the shared experience of adversity, and a spirit of mutual support epitomised by such organisations as the friendly societies. There was also a predisposition in British working-class popular culture that made light of hardship. It might be characterised as a phlegmatic acceptance of fate or sheer bloody-mindedness, but was commonly observed with a sardonic, vulgar humour. This ideally complemented the significance of the small «primary group» in maintaining morale, groups in any case sharing hardship, a common culture
