For King and Country: Blackmore during the First World War.

An extract from the book written by Andrew Smith released to coincide with the talk by the same title given on 9 November 2018 at St Laurence Church, Blackmore, as part of ‘Remembrance 100’, a community commemoration of the end of the First World War.

Chapter 9 - Armistice

Saturday 9th November 1918. After a week when the enemy was in hasty retreat on the Western Front, on this day the Kaiser abdicated. There were rumours spreading around that the war was over. Chelmsford, on market day the previous day, was full of gossip that the Germans had laid down their arms.

David Lloyd George, the Prime Minister, would have dearly liked to have made such an announcement at the Lord Mayor’s Banquet in London, it being the second Saturday in November when the new Lord Mayor of London was paraded through the streets of the capital. Lloyd George’s speech could have run, “Today this could be the greatest day of our lives, before it all ends, before we run out of time. Tonight this could be the greatest night of our lives. Let’s make a new start, the future is ours to find”. But that would have been fake news. All he could do was to allude that it would all be over soon. Hopefully.

The war, which the parties engaged was to be long and drawn out: bogged down, quite literally in the trenches of the Western Front, did end quickly when the Germans sought an armistice, having suffered heavy losses of men, desertion, Spanish ‘flu and food shortages at home.

Herbert Asquith, the former Prime Minister, had been a victim of fake news, talking about the British victory with his wife and daughter since the very early hours. He had been told by the War Office, only to be told about 6 o’clock that the news was not true. But a few minutes later his wife learned over the telephone from an American friend that it was, truly, over.

Miss Baker of Margaretting wrote in 1983:
“The First World War came to an end at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of November 1918. It was a tremendous relief to all of us to have the fearful struggle brought to a successful conclusion although the price that was paid in human lives and suffering cannot be measured”.

The armistice was signed in a railway carriage at just after 5 o’clock on Monday 11th November. The talks were short. It was agreed that the ceasefire would begin at 11 o’clock.

News reached Paris about 9.30am, but by then the day’s business of waging war was well under way. King George V had been told by the French that the War was over before Lloyd George had received official tidings. Even when news of the ceasefire was announced there were some British and American units who were happy to go on fighting, some to avenge the Germans and some with the ambition to push the enemy back through Belgium to their own border. It was something of an anti-climax as the clock struck eleven. On 11th November 1918 the Western Front saw something like 10,944 casualties, including 2,738 dead. Nicholas Best says that was nearly as many who were killed in the D-Day landings of 1944.

People in London had gathered in crowds since first light awaiting official news. At 10.55am the Prime Minister opened the door of No. 10 Downing Street and Lloyd George announced repeatedly, “At 11 o’clock this morning the war will be over”. Crowds gathered outside Buckingham Palace, the King making a balcony appearance. Bells rang, which had not been rung since the air raids. There was no radio, television, or twitter of course to convey the news. There was no BBC.

Chelmsford heard of the armistice soon after 11am. Revd. Andrew Clark records that “The works there immediately went on holiday. The news was passed on to Great Leighs Post Office from Chelmsford, spread rapidly and the cottagers were very excited. In Felsted village, by 1pm, nearly every house had hung out a flag. Little Waltham was gay with flags”.

Revd Reeve, the Rector of Stondon Massey, wrote:
“Some in Stondon heard the distant bells at Brentwood. But it was not till the afternoon that definite tidings reached the villages and then it filtered through chiefly the form of private messages. News came to Stondon that flags were being hoisted on the Military Hospital at Ongar, and that the veteran Field-Marshall Sir Evelyn Wood VC had visited the place and communicated the splendid message to the wounded men. As soon as I had this official intelligence the Stondon Church bells were chimed with all the old vigour by Ernest Baines, our sometime sexton.”

But for some celebration did not seem appropriate, sad at the loss of friends and family.

Blackmore’s Church Council met as planned on Monday 11th November 1918. The minutes record that “Discussion took place with respect to erecting some memorials of the Great War. Mr D Wilson moved ‘That the Church Council desires to express its thankfulness to Almighty God for the establishment of peace and to record its appreciation of the sacrifice to those who served in the forces of the Crown in the war by the erection of a Cross in the Churchyard, a painted Window and a roll of Honour to be placed in the Church’. This was seconded by Mr Reed and adopted”.

With only three men in attendance, including the Vicar, it was decided to hold a public meeting to endorse support. This was held on the following Tuesday, 19th November.

During the winter of 1918/19, 150,000 people died in Britain as a result of the virulent Spanish Influenza Pandemic. Worldwide it killed more people than had perished during the whole of the War. The illness reached Blackmore and Stondon Massey in November 1918.

Revd. Reeve wrote:
“Stondon is passing through a Visitation of the prevailing ‘Influenza’ epidemic. In England Schools have been closed in many districts, and mortality has been very serious.

“Our neighbours at Blackmore and Kelvedon Common were attacked before us, but we were to be no exception. The School has been closed as from the 15th November and the sickness has found victims in almost every house. When the fever is followed by pneumonia and complications it becomes of course a dangerous visitor. The doctors are barely able to attend their numerous patients, and are at a loss to account for the origin of the scourge. It suffices to keep in check the superabundant rejoicings of Peace”.

Reeve wrote at the end of January 1919:
“Private Arthur Roast … returned safely from France. Like the rest, he is to take a 28 day furlough, and then will consider himself ‘demobilised’, sending off his military great-coat from the nearest railway station into ‘store’, while he retains his khaki suit of uniform. He had the choice of a new civilian suit or a gratuity of 50 shillings when he left active service and chose the former, which in view of high prices was probably the sensible line of action”.