They were supported by over 3,000 artillery pieces and when their soldiers broke into open country – a goal that had alluded both sides since 1914 – it looked for a moment like they might win.
But the numerous small arms and 1,000 artillery pieces that fell into enemy hands would not slow Britain’s momentum.
In ‘The First World War’, Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson point out “the prodigious accomplishments of (Britain’s) munitions industries”:
“By July (1918) the Ministry of Munitions had resupplied the army to such an extent that it now possessed more artillery than it had disposed of (in the German attack).”
Infantry weapons were also being churned out.
Manpower shortages may have meant that a British 1918 division was often half as numerous as its 1916 former self, but material advances still gave it more firepower.
The story was very different for the Germans.
Although the spring offensive was an impressive spectacle, they’d now shot their bolt, using up much of their men and ammunition in the process:
“By almost every measure of economic activity, Germany was in steep decline by 1918. Taking 1913 as the benchmark, industrial output had diminished by a third by 1918.”
A song from the period highlights the contribution of the ‘munitionettes’ in Britain (from ‘munition’ plus ‘suffragettes’) to this effort:
“The guns out there are roaring fast, the bullets fly like rain;
The aeroplanes are curvetting, they go and come again;
The bombs talk loud; the mines crash out; no trench their might withstands.
Who helped them all to do their job? The girls with yellow hands.”
The largest factory was the Woolwich Royal Arsenal, which employed 28,000 women.
Gabriel West, who started out as a worker and went on to police the site, described it in her diary:
“The first time you go around you think, ‘What an interesting place’. Then the evil smell becomes more noticeable. The particles of acid land on your face and make you nearly mad, feeling like pins and needles.”
The fumes would cause well over a dozen casualties a day, but as Laura Downs of Michigan University explains, there were far worse accidents waiting to happen:
“War work was dangerous, laborious, heavy, dirty – women were blown up in powder factories in accidents with TNT and there were several hundred deaths in both France and Britain just due to explosions alone”.
Then there were the Zeppelins.
The first of these to hit London came in May, 1915, the very first death (out of seven) being a two-year-old.
They were instantly branded ‘Baby Killers’.
West described what it was like to come under attack by one, noting that Woolwich was a prominent target:
“No end of Zepp excitements lately. A few weeks ago we heard distant guns in the middle of the night. We looked up – and there was the Zepp so low you could see the cars hanging underneath. My word we did scoot. There was a tremendous din of firing, and things began to patter on the roof. I thought I was dead that time.”
Being on board a Zeppelin was also terrifying.
In ‘London 1914-17: The Zeppelin Menace’, Ian Castle introduces Kapitanleutnant (‘Captain Lieutenant’) Heinrich Mathy and his crew.
He was “the most revered of all the Zeppelin commanders”, but not invincible, and as the British got the upper hand, enemy morale - like the airships themselves - plummeted.
One of Mathy’s crewmembers described how they all felt:
“We discuss our heavy losses… Our nerves are on edge, and even the most energetic and determined cannot shake off the gloomy atmosphere… It is only a question of time before we join the rest. Everyone admits that they feel it… If anyone should say that he was not haunted by visions of burning airships, then he would be a braggart.”
On October 1, 1916, Mathy’s craft, Zeppelin L.31, was fired upon by a BE2c biplane equipped with a Lewis gun loaded with explosive rounds.
While regular ammo had simply bounced off, these bullets, and incendiary ones, could set the great hydrogen chambers ablaze.
Every man aboard an airship by this point in the war had pondered whether, when that moment came, he would prefer to stay behind and burn or simply leap to his death
Zeppelins, though, weren’t the only menace in the skies.
Large aircraft carrying bombs - Gothas and ‘Giants’ - also conducted a number of air raids.
The last of these took place on May 19/20 near East Ham and involved 38 Gothas and three Giants.
In total, seven of the Gothas were lost during the mission.
The fate of one of those shot down is also described by Castle in ‘London 1917-18: The bomber blitz’:
“It was clear that the Gotha was going down. All three of the crew jumped to their deaths… Searchers found the body of 27-year-old Hans Thiedke on an allotment in Brooks Avenue ‘a good half a mile north east of the Gotha’. That of Paul Sapkowiak, also aged 27, landed in ‘a ditch some 300 yards south of the aeroplane wreckage’ and the body of the third crew member, 20-year-old Wilhelm Schulte, was discovered a quarter of a mile to the south ‘in the next field on the bank of a ditch’.”
One British airman remembered seeing the Gotha do “about one and a half turns of spin” after he’d shot it before it was seen finally “bursting into a sheet of flame”, the spectacle being watched by civilians who had crowded onto the streets below.
Belinda J Davis goes into the effects of all this in ‘Home Fires Burning: Food, Politics, and Everyday Life in World War I Berlin’.
Flour supplies quickly diminished, forcing people to eat more potatoes or to make ‘ersatz’ (replacement) bread out them.
People, naturally, got sick of them, though that was still better than not having enough to eat.
As the only staple, the price of potatoes soon shot up.
Rudimentary socialism didn’t help – when the government enacted price ceilings many farmers simply withheld a portion of the potato crop to feed to their pigs. (Pork wasn’t the subject of price controls).
The wealthy could turn to the illegal food trade, much to the resentment of those who couldn’t.
It’s estimated that about 700,000 people died in Germany as a direct result of malnutrition – that’s close to the number of British soldiers who died fighting.
There were also deaths from diseases like flu, which one must safely assume was also at least partially attributable to poor diet.
It seems reasonable to wonder if all this made the naval blockade counter-productive in the long run.
The social fissures that appeared in Germany would, after all, go on to fuel the murderous racial ideology of the Nazis.
Migrants who’d come from the east, many of whom were Jews, were seen as having put undue stress on the food supply.
But the real culprit is described by Prior and Wilson:
“The blockade had deprived Germany of vital strategic materials such as cotton and nitrates, the shortage of which made the manufacture of munitions more difficult. More importantly, since August 1916 almost the entire German economy had been taken over by the military.”
The war effort would be undermined by factors on the home front, but this was not the stab in the back of Nazi legend:
“So many shell factories were constructed as to leave an actual shortage of steel for the manufacture of shells. At the same time, the rail system of the Reich had begun to collapse because vital activities such as the maintenance and replacement of rolling stock had been seriously neglected by the military… (C)oal could not reach the factories for want of adequate transportation.”
And food, despite sufficient stocks, could not reach people because that network had also been impacted:
“It was the matter of food availability that, more than any other factor, led to unrest on the home front: strikes, undernourishment and the collapse of real wages, resulting in further reductions in the output of the war-related industries.”
Economically brutal as the blockade was, U-boats were also trying to starve Britain into submission, and nobody in Allied nations was forcing Germany to feed her soldiers before her civilians.
The military, it seems, accidentally stabbed itself in the back.
For their part, Jews were also alleged to be ‘shirkers’ who worked in factories rather than doing the hard graft of fighting in the trenches.
This too was demonstrably false, though even if it hadn’t been, Britain’s canaries could have testified that munitions work was no lark.
The constant threat of being blown up aside, TNT poisoning (which caused the yellow hands and ginger hair) also made life miserable for many.
An August 12, 1916, report in the Lancet entitled ‘The Effects of Tri-Nitro-Toluene on Women Workers’ details a medical investigation by the government into the matter. It does not make for good dinner-time reading.
Symptoms are classified as either ‘irritative’ and ‘toxic’, though even the former sound extraordinarily unpleasant.
In the respiratory tract, for instance, there was far worse experience than just the initial nasal congestion and accompanying watery eyes and headache.
A constricting feeling and pain in the throat and sternum soon came on too:
“Frequently a feeling of intense suffocation is complained of… Some workers complain of a dry cough, followed by sputum, described as a thick yellow phlegm with a bitter taste. In one case the cough was definitely paroxymsmal (characterised by violent outbursts), and only relieved by the expulsion of a thick bleb of the phlegm referred to.”
When looking into the torso pain, investigators found that:
“The pain is spasmodic and griping in nature, and is accompanied by nausea and often by vomiting. The vomit is described as intensely bitter, often yellow, and sometimes green. Acid eructations (that’s violent eruptions from the stomach) are frequent.”
Naturally, it eventually worked its way out both ends.
Constipation was complained of at first, but diarrhoea that was “as green as grass” soon followed, accompanied by near-constant intestinal pain.
But these ‘minor’ symptoms could be relieved, it was found, by rotating those affected out of contact with the TNT portion of the production process.
When this didn’t happen, much worse could follow.
Symptoms of full-blown toxicity included, but weren’t limited to, “continuous ‘bilious (as in bile) attacks,’… nausea, bilious vomiting, anorexia, constipation, and jaundice”.
Blurred vision, “Irregular, scanty menstruation… Dark coloured scanty urine, with occasional scalding on micturition (i.e. when it was passed)”, inflammation of nerves, swollen hands and feet and bruises that appeared on limbs without any causal trauma were some of the other signs of toxicity.
It was recommended that only non-pregnant women in their prime, between the ages of 21 and 40, be allowed to work with TNT, and that even from this age group, some individuals should still be removed:
“Judging from our series of cases, the following persons would appear to be unduly susceptible: (a) Women inclined to anaemia; (b) those who have had previous gastric or liver trouble; (c) those who sweat freely or who are unclean in person ; (d) alcoholics and those who are even slightly addicted to alcohol ; (e) those who have had previous throat or chest trouble ; and (f) persons of lowered vitality from over-fatigue, malnutrition, &c.”
For German women, however, factory work was a privilege.
The OHL (army command) had tried to draft women into war work in October 1916.
But union pressure and women themselves, unwilling to do anything that didn’t contribute to reducing their nutritional privations, pushed back.
Incentives were worked out instead, the proverbial stick replaced not by the carrot so much as the turnip.
That’s because late 1916/early 1917 would be dubbed the ‘turnip winter’, so bitterly cold was it that the potato crop failed.
Those who’d complained bitterly about potato substitutes would now get more ersatz goods made out of the hardier but less palatable turnip.
Fat was also in short supply, leading to a dearth of soap.
An overreliance on cabbage also meant that, without bathing, people began to smell. (This was also impossible because there was no fuel to heat the icy-cold water).
Against this depressing backdrop, the one bright spot was that factory floors were now ‘more feminine friendly’.
Classes were held to teach them important skills that would raise wages.
They also got more rations – 43.9 grams of meat (176.6 calories) and 14.6 grams of fat (132.7 calories) daily, compared to 35.7 grams of meat and 8.9 of fat for those in the general population.
600 grams of protein and 500 of fat are the normal proportions for a 2000 calorie diet, the basic level of food intake recommended for the average person today.
Having said that, war workers in Germany did get over 3,000 calories, the majority presumably being made up of carbohydrates – mostly turnips in late 1916/early 1917.
Those in the general populace only got 700 to 900 calories. Small wonder there were instances of scavengers ripping flesh off horse carcases.
All in all then, British women seem to have been far better off than their German counterparts.
Pat Barker’s well-researched factional novel ‘Regeneration’ - based around the meeting of the war poets Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen – features a munitionette named Sarah Lumb who is determined to keep her spirits up despite the circumstances:
“The women sat at small tables, each table forming a pool of light under a low-hanging bulb. Apart from the work surfaces, the room was badly lit and so vast that its far end disappeared into shadow. All the women were yellow-skinned, and all, whatever their colouring, had a frizz of ginger hair peeping out from under the green cap (they all wore). We don’t look human Sarah thought, not knowing whether to be dismayed or amused. They looked like machines, whose sole function was to make other machines.”
Things are more jovial off the factory floor:
“In the cloakroom, donning ankle-length green overalls, pulling on caps, dragging at a final cigarette, were thirty or forty women... After a while conversations sprang up, the women appeared more normal, even jolly for a time, until the supervisor appeared in the doorway, jabbing her finger at the clock… (A) round-faced, bespectacled, crop-haired lady in a severely tailored suit, (she) bore down upon them. ‘Do you girls ever intend to start work?’”
But the girls remain mischievously defiant:
“They watched (the supervisor) walk away. ‘Eeh, I hope a man never tries to shove anything up her flue,’ Lizzie said. ‘Be cruelty to moths’.”
In contrast, there seems to have been a more public spirit of fun during the Second World War.
This is evident in the song sung by music hall star Gracie Fields entitled ‘The Thing-Ummy-Bob’.
It features exactly the same message as ‘the Girls with Yellow Hands’ but is far more entertaining:
“She’s the girl that makes the thing that drills the hole
That holds the spring that drives the rod that turns the knob
That works the thing-ummy-bob.
She’s the girl that makes the thing that holds the oil
That oils the ring that takes the shank that moves the crank
That works the thing-ummy-bob.
“It’s a ticklish sort of job making a thing for a thing-ummy-bob
Easpeically when you don’t know what it’s for
But it’s the girl that makes the thing that drills the hole
That holds the spring that works the thing-ummy-bob
That makes the engines roar.
And it’s the girl that makes the thing that holds the oil
That oils the ring that works the thing-ummy-bob
That’s going to win the war”.
The song can be heard between 2:10 and 3:09 in archival footage of a Fields performance embedded here:
If there was a greater sense of optimism amongst women this time around, that may have had something to do with granting them the vote.
At first, though, the Representation of the People Act 1918 only extended suffrage, largely, to women over the age of 30 who were married to a property owner.
It also enfranchised non-property-owning men, who could not vote before the war.
This says Martin Pugh in ‘History Today’, came down to pure prejudice:
“The politicians had little desire to give votes to the spinsters and the young women factory workers whom they suspected of harbouring feminist views and of being career-minded.”
That perennial feminist bugbear, unequal pay, also reared its head.
While it’s true that, between 1914 and 1918, women were mandated to have a shorter working week, with a maximum of 65 hours as opposed to 96 for men, this too seems to have been part of a cynical political calculus.
As Birkbeck College History Professor Joanna Bourke has noted in an interview with the BBC:
“They (unions) say ‘OK we will have women in the munitions factories but we will not have them on the same conditions as men.
“We will firstly give them the duration [of the war]-only contracts and secondly we will divide up the tasks’.
“So instead of having one woman doing the job that one skilled man would have done, they divide it up and have several women supervised by a man.
“This means the women don’t have to be paid as much but it also means that at the end of the war the trade unions can say ‘They aren’t doing skilled jobs, kick them out and give the jobs back to our members’.”
Fortunately, the political discrimination at least ended, with the ‘spinsters’ and ‘career-minded women’ under 30 also winning the vote in 1928.
This, in turn, may have helped garner a better sense of social cohesion come 1941, when women, and some men, were conscripted into war work, expanding on the existing pool of volunteers.
Just as in the First World War, it would be no easy road.
As the BBC’s 1973 series ‘The World at War’ explains, there were certainly social strains:
“The cost of such concentrated effort (working in the high-speed war economy) was high. Familiar customs and industry were swept aside, workers put in massive overtime, which stretched mind and body to the limit, then sometimes, their patience snapped.”
‘Snapped’ in this case meant strikes, of which there were some.
But all-in-all, unlike Germany in World War 1, socialism in Britain worked well during the Second World War.
That appears to have been a result of the mutual respect and joint determination to defeat the Nazis exhibited by Winston Churchill and his cabinet member Ernest Bevin, head of the TUC (Trade Unions Council).
Bevin’s efforts to optimise the use of national labour soon paid off:
“Aircraft production had trebled in two years, and in the next two it doubled again. By now, Britain’s war economy was much more widely based and thoroughly organised than Germany’s.”
We know the result, of course – Britain and her allies winning the war on the battlefields.
This, though, was made possible by the fact that the war of production was also won by a domestic army of mostly female workers.
The stoicism and diligence they exhibited in the First World War was revived to help Britain win again in the Second.