By the time the food crisis had really begun to make itself felt, another shortage had already hit the nation and once again, women were directly affected.
‘Working on Munitions to help to win the war’
Although the wartime manufacture of munitions has come to be closely associated with ordnance-making, women were involved in all aspects of equipping the armed forces. They were employed in very considerable numbers in factories which manufactured rations, sandbags and uniforms. This too was war work.
KHAKI MAGIC
Oh! Toil grimly at your weaving
At your belting and your sleeving,
At the cloth you’re cutting in that dusty room!
Hear the battle-song enthralling!
For the bugle’s clearly calling,
And the boys are wanting khaki from your loom.
They have left the women weeping,
They have left the children sleeping,
They come laughing be it glory, be it doom.
’Tis to make the brave ones braver
’Tis to prove the grave need graver,
That the boys are asking khaki from your loom.
Oh! work wisely at your scheming
At your sewing and your seaming!
’Tis a magic stuff you’re weaving in that gloom!
’Tis to make the youngsters older
’Tis to make the weaklings bolder
That the boys are wanting khaki from your loom.
Kathleen Braimbridge
By the middle of 1915, women were needed to do more than supply socks, mufflers, mittens, even uniforms. It was now apparent that the army was woefully short of all types of armaments and, with the growing demand for increasing numbers of men to enlist – initially voluntarily and from early 1916 through conscription – women had to be encouraged to enter the munitions factories.
If women’s involvement in munitions work was fundamental to the war effort, for many, it was still controversial, both in terms of the supposedly high wages they were earning (which very broadly ranged from around 30 shillings to £2 a week with deductions for lodgings and meals) and their involvement, albeit at one remove, in the destruction of life. Women were supposed to be the givers of life not its annihilators. Its contentious nature, as well as the excitement and antagonisms of women’s factory work, appears in poetry relating to and written by those upon whom, according to a popular poster of the time, ‘His Life Depends’.
Several munitions poems tap into the perception among the middle class that these war workers were simply intent on earning high wages and having a good time. Several poets, reflecting fairly widespread views of the time, failed to see, or conveniently overlooked, how many working class women were desperately in need of reasonably well-paid employment, due to high rates of inflation and the often depressed wages that wartime allowances did not keep up with. These women entered the factories in order both to feed themselves and their families and also out of a sense of patriotism – which many people erroneously believed was a preserve of the more educated sections of society.
Munitions workers were uncomfortably aware that their work was dangerous. Nevertheless, they cheerfully accepted that handling noxious materials, the ever-present danger of explosions, the frequently sub-standard equipment they used, as well as factory owners’ widespread disregard for what we now would call ‘Health and Safety’ legislation, were simply hazards of their job and they turned a blind eye the risks that they ran.
MUNITIONS WAGES
Earning high wages?
Yus, Five quid a week.
A woman, too, mind you,
I calls it dim sweet.
Ye’are asking some questions –
But bless yer, here goes:
I spends the whole racket
On good times and clothes.
Me saving? Elijah!
Yer do think I’m mad.
I’m acting the lady,
But – I ain’t living bad.
I’m having life’s good times.
See ’ere, it’s like this:
The ’oof come o’ danger,
A touch-and-go bizz.
We’re all here today, mate,
Tomorrow – perhaps dead,
If Fate tumbles on us
And blows up our shed.
Afraid! Are yer kidding?
With money to spend!
Years back I wore tatters,
Now – silk stockings, mi friend!
I’ve bracelets and jewellery,
Rings envied by friends;
A sergeant to swank with,
And something to lend.
I drive out in taxis,
Do theatres in style.
And this is mi verdict –
It is jolly worth while.
Worth while, for tomorrow
If I’m blown to the sky,
I’ll have repaid mi wages
In death – and pass by.
Madeline Ida Bedford
The poem’s callous tone suggests that Bedford may not have known that many ‘munitioneers’ were not only contributing their labour, health, and lives to the War but also their hard-earned money. Posters, a popular method of hectoring the public, urged investment in War Bonds and factory supervisors encouraged ‘thrift through War Savings Associations or by other means.’ Female workers responded; they crowded into post offices to buy war savings certificates and many also subscribed to wartime charities and benevolent funds. One factory superintendent noted that although many of the workers could not afford to eat in the subsidised factory canteens, nevertheless, ‘many [girls] invested substantial amounts in War Savings Certificates’.
This anonymous poem from a scrapbook collection of munitions workers’ poems (Munitions Being Some Verse And Sketches From A War Workers Factory ‘Somewhere In England’ Aug 1917, held at the Imperial War Museum) provides an alternative viewpoint.
WAR LOAN
We’re working on munitions to help to win the war,
Now England needs more money, so has called on us once more;
Right gladly would we aid her by giving of our own,
That’s why we are so busy putting money in War Loan:
So that our gallant fighting men can with conviction say,
‘Our women tried to aid us in every possible way.’
A number of factories published their own papers in which workers’ poems frequently appeared. These provide a contemporary view of how factory workers saw themselves and their labour. Probably referring to the Battle of the Somme – although any major attempt to break through enemy lines and hasten victory was known as a ‘Big Push’ – one self-styled ‘Hayes Munitionette’ has no qualms, and is indeed proud of the part her fellow munitionettes are playing:
BIG PUSH
The big push is in progress
At the battle front in France
And the girls of Hayes have now
The opportunity and chance
To make their high explosives
And to work at topmost speed
To fill and pack the Ammunition
The stuff the dear boys need.
It’s the first time in our lifetime
Us girls have had the chance
To help our best boys when at War
And we’ll make Hun murderers dance.
Whilst munitions workers themselves were proud that they were making ‘Hun murderers dance’, some observers were far from convinced that this was an appropriate female role. This much anthologised piece makes the poet’s views plain:
WOMEN AT MUNITION MAKING
Their hands should minister unto the flame of life,
Their fingers guide
The rosy teat, swelling with milk,
To the eager mouth of the suckling babe
Or smooth with tenderness,
Softly and soothingly,
The heated brow of the ailing child.
Or stray among the curls
Of the boy or gir
l, thrilling to mother love.
But now.
Their hands, their fingers
Are coarsened in munitions factories.
Their thoughts, which should fly
Like bees among the sweetest mind flowers,
Gaining nourishment for the thoughts to be,
Are bruised against the law,
‘Kill, kill.’
They must take part in defacing and destroying the natural body
Which, certainly during the dispensation
Is the shrine of the spirit.
O God!
Throughout the ages we have seen,
Again and again
Men by Thee created
Cancelling each other.
And we have marvelled at the seeming annihilation
Of Thy work.
But this goes further,
Taints the fountain head,
Mounts the poison to the Creator’s very heart.
O God!
Must It anew be sacrificed on earth?
Mary Gabrielle Collins
It was not only the fact of women making munitions that would prove controversial. Inevitably, in wartime some will prosper financially and several poets found the profits made by factory owners and armament kings distasteful. This point was made forcefully by Ethel Talbot Scheffauer:
SPIDERS
(To All Munitions Profiteers)
The lean grey spiders sat in their den
And they were starved and cold – –
They said – – Let there be strife among men
That we may gather gold.
The young men at their toil were brothers
Over all the earth;
The proud eyes of all their mothers
Praised them with equal worth.
There came a word in the ears of the young men,
And they believed and heard,
And there was fire in the eyes of the young men
Because of that word.
Give yourselves to be shattered and broken,
Said the spiders aloud;
And know your enemy by this token
Out of the spider-crowd.
He that has in his eyes a flame,
And in his hands a trust! – –
Him shall ye smite in Heaven’s name – –
And they played with their yellow dust.
And over the world from morn till even
The young men awoke and heard,
And slew their like by seventy and seven
Because of the word.
And every one that died of the young men
Cried with the same voice;
And the spiders at the fall of the young men
Cried from their dens – – Rejoice – –
And every mother of all the mothers
Bled from the same heart;
Yet cried to the young men that were brothers,
“In God’s name depart.”
And the spiders sat in their lighted palace
And feasted no more a-cold – –
And redly, out of a burning chalice,
Gathered their minted gold.
Ethel Talbot Scheffauer
Most women, unconcerned by the controversy surrounding their making deadly weapons, or even who was profiting from their labour, found that munitions work helped them to feel closer to their men at the Front. Helen Dircks lived in Ealing, near to several munitions factories, and may have even worked in one herself. She felt that munitions workers and soldiers were equally trapped in their new lives:
MUNITIONS
We have forgotten the guelder roses,
You and I,
The lilies
And the lilac too;
The sweet scents of Spring
Pass by unnoticed.
My life
Lies in the turning of a lathe
And yours
In the skill to fight –
Two poor cogs in the machinery of war.
And yet
I cannot help but feel
The wonder veil
Upon our meeting eyes
Hold more
Than peace could ever bring.
Helen Dircks
Irrespective of women’s motives for entering the factories, industrial and gender relationships were far from harmonious. Poems in The Bombshell Magazine of the National Projectile Factory at Templeborough Sheffield, which in 1918 employed about 5,000 women, reflect both gender and hierarchical tensions. They also draw attention to the harshness of factory life and the particular pressures upon women supervisors or forewomen, who were frequently despised by male workers and disrespected by their female subordinates. All are recurring themes in female munitions workers’ memoirs.
Parodying Rudyard Kipling’s famous 1895 poem ‘If – ’, this anonymous writer feels that she and her fellow workers now inhabit a very different world:
IF
If you can keep your head when all about you
The bells are whirring and the hammers ring
If when at first the stop and din astound you
You try to learn and understand each thing:
If you can learn and not be tired of learning
The name and use of all the different m’s
And know the look and feel of every turning
And see the refuse sorted from the guns.
If you can keep your galleys clean and flowing
Without the loss of temper or of rake
Nor come back full of indignant glowing
When fruitless hunts for Izal take the cake,
If you can urge and not be called a driver
If you can push on work – and get a smile;
If you make each woman be a striver
And feel that what she’s doing is worthwhile.
If you can bear to have your tools all taken
Each day, and never stop to curse the thief,
If when your tubs want emptying you’re forsaken
By men, who prefer a plate of beef;
If you can get one mind in all your workers
And make them feel that if they persevere
Their shop will be the cleanest – even shirkers
Must know they’ve got to do their bit or clear;
If you can make your Brushes, Tubs and Trolleys
To serve their turn long after they are done,
And never think about the last turn’s follies
Who must have scattered orange peels for fun;
If you can keep the Foreman and Machine Girls
At peace with each one of your chosen few
And see that every red band at the bench hurls
Her orange peel far from public view.
If you last the Shift of eight long hours
At night and never turn a hair ‘pro tem.,’
You’re a success, and – all the mighty powers
Will say you’re just the Forewoman for them.
Anonymous
Editor’s Note: Izal was very thin toilet paper which looked and felt like tracing paper.
Lady Kathleen Lindsay was closely connected with the managerial side of munitions work. Although her acrostic ‘Munitions Alphabet’ gives at times an idealised view of munitions work, there is significant information about the different types of work women were involved in.
MUNITIONS ALPHABET
A stands for number eleven Adapters
Their history is written in several chapters.
B is the bomb projected from trenches
And handled in workshops by hefty young wenches.
C is the cartridge case used with a shell
It makes a nice gong or an ashtray as well.
D Detonators of several grains
Are essential in fuses and useful in gaines.
E the exploder Container whose wheeze is
To be as eccentric as ever it pleases.
F is the Fuze which inspectors delight
To release in large num
bers by Saturday night.
G is the Gaine without which the fuze
Its bad reputation at Whitehall might lose.
H is the highest Explosive in guns
Which obedient to orders annihilates Huns.
I the Incendiary shell is a terror
Needing more than one proof to eliminate error.
J is for jellite, I shouldn’t advise you
To sniff it or else the results might surprise you.
K is the keenness with which the staff seek
To work fifty hours at least in the week.
L is for Lewis whose weapon the Yanks
Refused but which England accepted with thanks.
M in the Ministry labour is joy
While the Staff and their friends don’t despise the Savoy.
N is the Nine two which looks very lean
When placed besides twelve or a monster Fifteen.
O Obturator expression absurd,
It’s just like the Navy to use such a word.
P is the Primer all polished and round
Without which no cartridge case ought to be found.
Q is Q.F. Ammunition required
By millions and millions so fast it is fired.
R is the absolute certain rejection
Awaiting all items that don’t meet perfection.
S is the Shell which gives all the trouble
That properly handled should burst like a bubble.
T is the Tube and with little restriction
Its use and abuse are developed by friction.
U is the uniform just the right shade
For a trim little, neat little, bright little maid.
V is the vent sealing fiend of Percussion
Whose wayward behaviour has caused much discussion.
W is weight which judged by Statistics
Has very important effects on ballistics.
X is unknown, it’s the pay of the staff
That is working for nothing on England’s behalf.
Y is the youth on the eighth or ninth floor
Who is madly in love with the typist next door.
Z is the zest that these young people bring
To the Service of Ministry, Country and King.
Kathleen Lindsay
Editor’s Note: The ‘monster’ 15 inch shells were heavy and due to their short range were only used for a short time before being replaced with 12 inch and older 9.2 inch shells.
It is well known that a number of more affluent women became volunteer nurses to avenge the death of a loved one. Similar sentiments also drove a number of these women into munitions work. Theodora Corrin’s poem, found in a scrapbook, suggests that her munitions work links her with her beloved.
Tumult and Tears Page 4