Tommy's War: A First World War Diary 1913-1918

by Thomas Cairns Livingstone

  Saturday, 25 March

  Wild snow storm all day. Worst we’ve had for years. After tea we all went into town to the Salon Picture House and saw She and came home duly edified.24 Word to hand today of a naval duel in the North Sea between British armed liner and German raider, both sunk. The German survivors landed at Leith. German submarine also reported captured.

  Monday, 27 March

  Agnes and Tommy at a Kirk concert with Mrs Carmichael etc. I stayed at home, broke sticks etc. My beloved got home about 11 p.m. American liner sunk by the German pirates.

  Wednesday, 29 March

  Serious strikes with Clyde workers. Some of the leaders arrested.25 German destroyer rammed by British cruiser in North Sea. Not a single German blighter saved.

  Thursday, 30 March

  Wet day. Having a night of it. My father here at tea time. Hetty Cook and May Crozier here at 6.45 and Duncan about 8 p.m. Duncan brought a photo frame. Duncan rejected by military doctors. The ‘Bantams’ are now in France.26

  Sunday, 2 April

  Lovely day. Warm sunshine. We all went to Queen’s Park after dinner, took car from there to Thornliebank and car from Rouken Glen to Paisley. Green car back from Paisley, and came off at Ibrox, and went up and had our tea with the Gordons. Home 10.10 p.m. All the lampposts in Govanhill were out, so I’m afraid the Zeppelins have reached Scotland at last. Another air raid over England last night: 16 killed, 100 injured.

  Monday, 3 April

  At last, Zeppelins attacked Scotland last night. Great damage in Edinburgh and Leith: 10 killed. An air raid also on England.

  Tuesday, 4 April

  Agnes in wash-house all night. I put Tommy to bed all by myself. Great German losses at Verdun. Clyde strike ended.

  Friday, 7 April

  Dull, wet sort of day. Insured my household effects today against air raids. Cuss the Zeppelins. French beating back German attacks at Verdun. Vive la France! Ils ne passeront pas.27

  Saturday, 8 April

  The Gordons stormed our house about 6 p.m. We had an evening of mirth and song. More boats sunk. The submarine menace is getting serious.

  Sunday, 9 April

  Feeling vigorous, I went to Queen’s Park before breakfast. In the afternoon, we all went out by Cathcart and Mount Florida. Duncan here at night. He reports Donald as being very ill.

  Tuesday, 11 April

  Wind, rain and hail. Agnes over at Greenlodge to see how Donald was keeping. Another spy shot in the Tower.

  Thursday, 13 April

  Cold, windy day. Broke a few sticks à soir. Agnes went out tonight for a walk. She came back in 10 minutes. Glasgow Socialist gets three years for sedition.28 British fiercely attacked at Ypres.

  Saturday, 15 April

  This is the 619th day of the war, the 53rd day of the Battle of Verdun, and the 129th day of the Siege of Kut.

  Sunday, 16 April

  Pouring wet day. I went to church. Communion. After dinner I went over to Greenlodge to see how Donald was keeping. America doing a war dance just now.

  Friday, 21 April

  This being Good Friday, I ate a ‘Hot Cross Bun’. Germans gain a trench and two craters from British at St Eloi. Russsian army landed in France to help the Allies. French take offensive at Verdun.

  Saturday, 22 April

  According to arrangement, we all went down to Ibrox in the afternoon. Nobody was there when we arrived, so we all came home again. I cussed and swore. British regain lost ground at St Eloi, and so the game goes on.

  Sunday, 23 April

  I gave Agnes her usual cup of tea at 7 a.m. and then I went out to Queen’s Park. I’ve got the cold. Agnes got the cold. Tommy got the cold.

  Tuesday, 25 April

  German steamer tries to land arms in Ireland. Sunk. German battle squadron bombards Yarmouth and Lowestoft. Little damage. Our local fleet engages it and Germans go home. Civil war in Dublin. Post Office in hands of rebels. About 30 killed on both sides.29

  Wednesday, 26 April

  Mr McCort in at night and did the whitewashing. Agnes cleaned the paint after, and I gave her some assistance. I polished the clock. I got to bed at 1.30 tomorrow morning. Agnes between that and breakfast time. Martial law in Dublin. Sinn Fein declared illegal.

  * * *

  The Easter Rising in Ireland, organised by Irish nationalists opposed to British rule, began on 24 April 1916, when 1,600 members of the Irish Volunteer Force and the Irish Citizen Army personnel took over several key buildings in Dublin, including the General Post Office (GPO), the Four Courts, Bolands Mills, Jacobs Biscuit Factory and the Royal College of Surgeons. Pádraig Pearse and James Connolly, the leaders of the insurrection, declared an Irish republic from the steps of the GPO. The British response was rapid and violent. The 2,000 crown forces in Dublin quickly gave battle, and 20,000 additional troops arrived within two days. A gunboat sailed up the Liffey, destroying much of the centre of the Irish capital. Six days later, the uprising was over, and its leaders were then tried by military courts and executed. While a military failure, the rising was one of the most politically and culturally important milestones on the road to an Irish republic. William Butler Yeats, in his poem ‘Easter, 1916’, wrote that ‘a terrible beauty is born’, and the rising is still celebrated in popular song and story.

  * * *

  Thursday, 27 April

  Jean and May Crozier here. We had a night of song and music. All Ireland under martial law. Rebellion spreading. British submarine E22 sunk in North Sea by the Germans. This is the eleventh submarine we have lost.

  Saturday, 29 April

  Warm, bright and sunny day. Took Agnes and Tommy a circular run on the car via Rouken Glen. Notice posted up on the walls signed by the King, saying I’ve to be a ‘sojer’. Derby groups up to 41 called up for 29 May. God save Ireland. Fall of Kut. General Townshend and British Army surrender to the Turks. Another of our failures.30

  Sunday, 30 April

  Lovely summer day. Tommy got a limp today. He has been running about too much. I took a walk to town in the afternoon. Rebels getting rounded up in Ireland. Dublin General Post Office destroyed. Big fires in Dublin. Mob loots the shops. Boat firing from the Liffey. Irish rebel leader shot. God save Ireland again. Erin go bragh.31

  Soldiers inspect the interior of Dublin’s General Post Office.

  Tuesday, 2 May

  Another nice day. Factor called today and got his rent. I was at recruiting office today. Waited an hour and a half to see the doctor and didn’t see him. Five million Britons now under arms.

  Wednesday, 3 May

  Nice sort of day. Compulsion Bill passed first reading today. Three Irish rebel leaders tried by court martial and shot.32 Ora pro nobis. Big Zepp raid last night all over east coast, including Scotland. Not much damage; about 10 killed.

  Sunday, 7 May

  German official casualties 2,822,079.

  Monday, 8 May

  Sent the office boy up to Bath Street recruiting office with a letter asking permission to be examined by a medical man. I got it.

  Tuesday, 9 May

  Spring cleaning resumed in the room. Agnes does a hard night’s work. Turns very ill and it seems to be serious. White Star liner Cymric sunk by U-boat.

  Wednesday, 10 May

  Went for doctor in the morning. Agnes getting worse. I’m getting alarmed. Took a run home in forenoon. Doctor in. Agnes to stay in bed. I spent the afternoon being measured, weighed, examined, sounded etc. by the military doctors. Found wanting, so am passed for sedentary work etc. My King and country don’t want me. I made the supper and put Tommy to bed.

  * * *

  Health and illness

  Thomas and his family were frequent users of both doctors and pharmacists, thanks to an almost continuous succession of coughs, colds, neuralgia, Agnes’ frequent exhaustion and eruptions of her ‘old trouble’, Wee Tommy’s tonsils and Thomas’ own tiredness and headaches. Their relatives’ more serious illnesses bring a knowledge of the Glasgow Ro
yal Infirmary.

  Before the coming of the National Health Service in 1948, the better-off were treated at home, moving into small private nursing homes if they needed hospitalisation. For the poor, though, treatment was far less comfortable. People who could not afford house calls relied on dispensaries, which offered advice and simple medicines. For serious conditions, there were voluntary, poor law and municipal hospitals. Thomas’ income put him somewhere in the middle, in that he could afford to pay for house calls and the advice of the doctor, but if a hospital was needed the family had to rely on the voluntary sector.

  Thomas wrote that he was compelled to register with a doctor under the terms of the National Insurance Act of 1911. The National Insurance scheme, which was compulsory for workers earning less than £3 a week, provided workers with sick pay (10/- a week for up to 26 weeks) and unemployment pay (7/- a week for up to 15 weeks). It also guaranteed insured workers free medical treatment. In return, workers paid 4d a week from their wages, to which their employer added 3d and the government 2d. The scheme did not cover the spouses or children of workers.

  Doctors varied their charges according to their patients’ ability to pay. The Partick and District Medical Society drew up a scale for its members in 1920, which listed each street in the area according to the type of houses and the likely income of their inhabitants. Fees ranged from 3/- to 10/6 for a consultation, and from 3/6 to 12/6 for a visit; the charge for delivering a baby varied from three guineas (£3 3s) to 15 guineas (£15 15s). A typical doctor’s hours were from 9.30 a.m. to 10.30 a.m. and from 6 p.m. to 7 p.m. Monday to Saturday, with a half-day on Tuesday. Other times were reserved for home visits.

  In the early part of the twentieth century, there were few effective drugs. Alkalis, which made the urine less acidic, were used to treat urinary infections; plant-derived salicylates such as aspirin were used to treat rheumatism; quinine was used for malaria; and digitalis for some types of heart disease. Patients often relied on patent medicines or over-the-counter medications aimed at specific ills. These included Scott’s Emulsion, Mother Siegel’s Syrup and Veno’s Seaweed Tonic. Scott’s Emulsion was composed largely of cod liver oil, a natural source of calcium, phosphorus and vitamins A and D. It was given to children with a view to promoting healthy growth and combating colds and coughs. Mother Siegel’s Curative Syrup, which contained tincture of capsicum, hydrochloric acid and aloe, was advertised as ‘a cure for impurities of the blood’. Veno’s Seaweed Tonic, meanwhile, was promoted by Mr Veno as a cure for a wide variety of ailments, including ‘indigestion, wind, headache, general weakness, kidney trouble, weak and painful back, torpid liver, female troubles, poorness of blood and habitual constipation’.

  Dentists in Thomas’ time did little conservation work on their patients, and were generally only visited when toothache became unbearable and people were happy to pay 1/6 to have a problem tooth removed. As a result, many people lost all their teeth by early adulthood, and wore partial or complete dentures. Thomas himself has a partial denture, which he mentions in his diary in May 1913.

  Both Thomas’ father, Joseph Livingstone, and his friend Jenny Roxburgh are treated in the Royal Infirmary. This institution was founded in 1792 in a building designed by the brothers Robert and James Adam, and rehoused in a more modern replacement designed by James Miller in 1907. In between, the hospital had seen Lord Lister carry out the first antiseptic surgery, William Macewan introduce the white coat for physicians, and John Macintyre open one of the first x-ray departments in the world.

  Glasgow’s hospitals at the time of Joseph’s and Jenny’s illnesses were divided into three classes: the voluntary hospitals (general hospitals such as the Royal Infirmary), municipal hospitals (infectious diseases hospitals such as Robroyston) and the poor law hospitals (such as the Govan Poorhouse and Hospital, renamed the Southern General Hospital in 1922). There was also the Glasgow Royal Mental Hospital, which opened in 1843 at Gartnavel, and the Princess Louise Scottish Hospital for Limbless and Disabled Soldiers and Sailors, which opened in 1916 at Erskine. There were also a number of private nursing homes, for those who could afford them.

  The voluntary hospitals were funded entirely by voluntary contributions, and were managed by boards of governors elected by the contributors, with representatives of certain public bodies ‘and representatives of the working class’. Many of the buildings and wards were endowed, and named after their benefactors. Patients did not necessarily enjoy the Spartan regimes of the voluntary hospitals imposed in accordance with Victorian notions of the ‘deserving poor’ by formidable nursing sisters, who ensured that there was no smoking, drinking or swearing on the wards. However treatment was often at the hands of respected doctors and surgeons, who gave their services free in return for the high medical standing that working in these large teaching hospitals conferred. It also gave a boost to the fees they could command from their students and private patients. The municipal hospitals were under the control of the Glasgow Corporation, and the poor law hospitals under the Parish Councils and the District Boards of Control.

  The effects of the war were felt in many Glasgow hospitals. As well as building its own hospital in Bellahouston Park, the army commandeered the Northern General Hospital (later known as Stobhill Hospital) as a receiving hospital for wounded servicemen. The Royal Infirmary and other hospitals set aside a number of beds for the war wounded. In addition, the Red Cross took over the administration building of the North British Locomotive Company to form Springburn Hospital for injured servicemen. All hospitals lost doctors and surgeons to the army and navy, and many were left dependent on the old and the infirm or on medical students not yet called up to minister to the sick. Women medical students and doctors were able to step into some of the gaps this created.

  As in other professions, the war created opportunities for female doctors and nurses to work in areas from which they previously had been excluded. Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service recruited women to serve alongside the army medical service in theatres of war. In addition, the Scottish Women’s Hospitals for Foreign Service – which was funded privately after the War Office rejected the idea – established field hospitals staffed entirely by women. By 1918, there were 14 Scottish Women’s Hospitals in France, Russia, Serbia, Salonica and Macedonia, where more than 1,000 female doctors, nurses, radiologists, orderlies and drivers had given service.

  Spanish Influenza swept the world in 1918 and 1919, killing between 20 and 40 million people, more than died in the First World War. It hit Glasgow particularly hard, and was not a pleasant way to die. One contemporary account chronicled the progression of the illness:

  It starts with what appears to be an ordinary attack of la grippe. When brought to the hospital, [patients] very rapidly develop the most vicious type of pneumonia that has ever been seen. Two hours after admission, they have mahogany spots over the cheek bones, and a few hours later you can begin to see the cyanosis [blueness due to lack of oxygen] extending from their ears and spreading all over the face. It is only a matter of a few hours then until death comes and it is simply a struggle for air until they suffocate. It is horrible.

  Letter dated 29 September 1918, discovered in a

  trunk in 1959, and published in the British

  Medical Journal 22 December 1979 by Professor

  R. N. Grist, a Glasgow physician.

  Generally speaking, however, in the early years of the twentieth century Glasgow’s health was improving, at least as indicated by a steady decline in the death rate. In 1870 the death rate was 29.6 per thousand, and by 1920 it was 15 per thousand, which was the equivalent at the time of saving 16,000 lives a year. The Glasgow Corporation took a paternalistic interest in all aspects of its citizens’ lives, and provided a wide range of services that elsewhere had been left to the private sector. As scientific and medical advances made it clear that there was a direct link between clean environments and good health, the corporation began to provide sanitary services such as clea
ning the streets and disposing of refuse (from 1800), providing a public water supply from Loch Katrine (in 1859) and opening public baths and wash-houses (from 1878). All of these alleviated the worst effects of poor housing and enhanced the health of those in better circumstances.

  Smoking was already seen as medically problematic in the early years of the twentieth century. The 1908 Children Act prohibited the sale of tobacco to children aged under 16 based on the belief that smoking stunted their growth. In 1914 the American inventor Thomas Edison wrote to Henry Ford, the pioneering car manufacturer, about the health aspects of smoking: ‘The injurious agent in cigarettes comes principally from the burning paper wrapper. The substance thereby formed is called acrolein. It has a violent action on the nerve centers, producing degeneration of the cells of the brain, which is quite rapid among boys. Unlike most narcotics, this degeneration is permanent and uncontrollable. I employ no person who smokes cigarettes.’

  Despite the growing concerns about the dangers of tobacco, Thomas enjoyed his ‘thick black’ throughout the war – when supplies were available, of course.