As for the officers, we were extraordinarily lucky, as one of our convoys had been down . . . to bring up stores from the Expeditionary Force Canteen . . . and had been held up by rain. However it reached us on Xmas eve, and just saved us from an almost ‘ration’ Xmas. You see no mail has arrived for nearly a month. Even as it was we had to share the men’s plum pudding, not having any of our own (We always leave anything in the way of gifts or free luxuries of any sort to the men, except in very special circumstances). But we had a real goose for dinner, not a tinned variety either, and had lots of other good foods.
Some of the other companies had turkeys but we drew for them and we failed in as much as we drew a goose. But there was really more on it than on some of the turkeys, which were rather small.14 (Capt Charles Baxter)
Like troops in Mesopotamia, those chasing the elusive von Lettow-Vorbeck around East Africa were also enjoying a lull in the fighting. This was because the Germans had slipped into Portuguese territory on 25 November, which signalled the failure of British forces, under Gen van Deventer, to prevent such a move. The Schutztruppe now numbered only some 300 Germans and 1,700 Askaris. But these were the fittest men von Lettow-Vorbeck had and for the remainder of the campaign he would rely on mobility rather than fighting strength as his chief weapon. During December the Germans re-equipped with weapons and ammunition by raiding Portuguese garrisons, the latter’s forces being too weak and disorganised to prevent this. At the same time British forces did little to assist their ally and were content to patrol the frontier, increase their hold on German East Africa and ready their forces for a new campaigning season. To prepare for this, new recruits to the King’s African Rifles were put through their paces at training camps such as that at M’bagathi, 12 miles west of Nairobi. Here Lt J. Elliott (3rd/6th KAR), the machine-gun training officer, had a more eventful Christmas than he anticipated:
Xmas 1917 and New Year 1918 were great celebrations. We did a bit of riding, running down the zebras which were in thousands near us, a bit of shooting getting a buck or two, and spent the nights trying to sleep in the heat. One night I had dozed off when I was awakened by the feeling that I was being struck by thousands of red-hot needles. I lit my lamp and jumped out into the open for the banda and every inch of me, bed and everything was a moving mass of red ‘safari’ ants . . .
Hell! I broke open the Q.M. Stores and slept under the stars that night, and I was a mass of minute red punctures the next morning, but the ants had moved on and the Mess had a good laugh at me . . .
The Governor General dined with us one night, and as there were nine Scots in the Mess the G.G. suggested an eightsome reel, and, of course, a request from him was an order. One got the pipes skirling and the other eight of us danced the reel on the mud floor with the temperature over 90 degrees in the hut. The dust rose in clouds and I can remember the G.G. standing in the anteroom hut with field glasses fixed to his eyes trying to see us through the dust.
Of course, the campaign in East Africa, like those in Mesopotamia and Salonika, witnessed many more casualties caused by disease than by enemy action. As far as possible the worst cases were taken out of theatre by hospital ship. Many of these men would spend Christmas 1917 in South African hospitals, such as No. 3 General Hospital at Durban:
Christmas Day was rather dull – just an extra good dinner and nothing more – except for a few evergreens and flags scattered about the ward. I always thought Xmas in hospital was one long orgie of merriment and was rather disappointed. We had a few small gifts from the Durbanites, of which the most useful was 10/- each from the Turf Club. There was considerably more excitement on the 27th when the tent I was in consisting of three marquees joined together, and containing about 30 patients caught fire about one o’clock in the morning and in about ten minutes was burnt to the ground. Nobody was hurt, but the difficulty was to find accommodation for us, the hospital being very full; and we sat around in a lettuce patch in pyjamas and slippers while they discussed the situation. For me they found a very comfortable bed in the Sgt. Majs tent, but most then had to share the few mattresses that were rescued from the fire on the floor of the mess tent, a hard bed but perhaps better than a bed of lettuces. The next day they scattered us among various wards. I am now in what was a drill hall . . .
The people I met at Durban last time have been to see me and I have not wanted for cigarettes, fruit and literature. Since I have begun to get about a bit I have been to see them and had some whiskey and soda and been for a very decent motor ride.15 (Sgt Roland Mountfort, 25th Royal Fusiliers)
Peace at Last! Christmas 1918
I wish to remind all ranks serving under my command that during the trying and unavoidably extended period that must elapse before the demobilization of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force can be expected, the good name of the British Army depends upon the individual conduct of each member of the Force in the various countries now in our occupation.
Courtesy and consideration to the inhabitants of these countries were never more essential, even during the period of active operations, than they are now, and I feel certain that I can rely on every member of this Force to maintain the traditions of the British Army in this respect.
In these countries special temptations exists with regard to Wine and Women. Both must be resisted. Our relatives and friends are anxiously awaiting our return home, and they will expect to find all those of us who have escaped wounds in action with our physical and our moral energies unimpaired. Treat all women with courtesy, but shun all undue intimacy. Remember that temptation, which when encountered is hard to resist, is often easy to avoid.
Final impressions are usually the more lasting; and on the behaviour of the troops during the present period will depend the final impression left by the British Army on the inhabitants of these countries.
The honour of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force is in your hands. I do not fear to leave it there.
General Sir Edmund Allenby’s Special Order of the Day, January 1919
For troops celebrating Christmas in 1918, the wishes for peace expressed by them and their comrades over the previous four years had finally come true. When the guns fell silent on the Western Front at 11 a.m. on 11 November, victory for the Allies was complete. The process began in the Balkans with the Bulgarians signing an armistice on 30 September, followed within weeks by the Turks (30 October) and Austria-Hungary (4 November).
This final march to victory had been a hard-fought struggle with the British and French having weathered a series of German offensives between 21 March and 15 July. The German gamble was played in an attempt to win the war before American manpower made itself felt on the Western Front. Transferring 23 Divisions from Russia, Ludendorff achieved a superior concentration of manpower for his offensive. However, he was forced to leave over one million German and Austro-Hungarian troops in the East to further German territorial ambitions in the chaos of Bolshevik Russia. Ludendorff’s first blow fell on the weakened British 5th Army who were thrown into confusion by the speed of the German assault. In a pattern that played itself out in each of the major German attacks of 1918, an initial successful breakthrough and advance was gradually checked by a combination of stiffening resistance by Allied forces, tiredness among the German infantry and the inability of their artillery and logistic support to keep pace with the advance. When the Germans were halted by French troops on the Marne in July, Ludendorff’s war-winning strategy was in ruins and his army no longer had any reserves of manpower to make good their heavy losses.
When the Allies went over to the offensive in August, the lead role was played by Haig’s forces. Despite suffering a manpower shortage brought on by the heavy losses of late 1917 and having large numbers of men deployed in other theatres of war, British, Dominion and Empire troops, supported by the French and Americans, went on to defeat the German field army in 100 days of offensive action, including the storming of the strong Hindenburg Line position.
Not unexpectedly, with the fighting
having finished on 11 November, many of Britain’s citizen soldiers wondered why they were still in uniform come Christmas. Such thoughts led to a growing resentment against military discipline as many viewed themselves as civilians once again:
Strangely enough now that the war is over, numbers of the men refuse to obey orders or rather they show a certain amount of independence that is most disconcerting. I had to talk to a whole company that were disgracefully abusive to their officers. I realized that any show of military authority would be fatal so I reasoned with them and told them that for the benefit of all and in order to facilitate the movement of those who were anxious to get back to England, it was necessary that they should still behave as disciplined soldiers. My remarks were greeted by cat calls and rude noises but I knew there must be a large proportion of the men who were anxious to return to England, so I announced that I should look to the men themselves for co-operation and that if there was obstruction I should have the offenders arrested and kept back. There was then almost complete silence and I had no further difficulty. (Capt Alfred Bundy, 2nd King’s Own Royal Lancasters)
The men referred to by Bundy were at Summerhill Camp outside Salonika, where soldiers not wanted for occupation forces in Bulgaria and Turkey had been kicking their heels since the end of September. But lapses in discipline were not confined to more distant theatres of war or to other ranks:
I think I will be a bit fond of staying in when I do come home. No Germany for me, thank you; I’ve seen quite enough of Germans. And I will be so pleased to say good-byeee to muddy Flanders . . .
There was a parade on Boxing Day. Two others and myself thought it was a holiday and no parade. So we did not go. Result is we do three extra parades beginning Monday, with full marching order on, after the others are dismissed. What a cheerful army. They would have had us on parade Xmas day if they could. Oh I aint arf enjoying myself. If leave continues, I think my turn comes about Feb to March. And I sincerely hope that its home for good . . . I hope you enjoyed your Xmas and had a real good time. No need to worry now, war’s over, so they say. We painted all our limbers and cleaned guns etc ready for handing in – sometime.1 (Lt Emrys Richards, 63rd Battalion, MGC)
Unfortunately, the initial demobilisation scheme, drawn up in 1917 by the Secretary of State for War Lord Derby, proposed that the first men to be released from service were those who worked in key industries. However, it was invariably these men who had been called up in the latter stages of the war. This left many of those with the longest service records at the back of the queue, which was the main cause of resentment. Soldiers from the Dominions also suffered delays, many waiting months in camps in Britain for transport home. Once Churchill was appointed Secretary of State for War in January 1919, he amended the demobilisation programme, making sure that age, length of service and wounds were taken into account when selecting the order in which men were sent home. But until then the authorities worried about unrest in the ranks as small-scale mutinies broke out in Calais and Folkestone and a demonstration of 3,000 soldiers occurred in central London. Typical of the men they were trying to appease was Gnr William Young (175 Siege Battery, RGA), who wrote to his fiancée from the village of Villers-Bocage:
We are expecting to move at any time to another village near here. They have been putting up huts for us for some time now and they are about ready I think. So they shouldn’t be so bad but it will be a good job when we can get out of it. It gets on your nerves to be messing about doing nothing when you might be at home. They have started issuing us out with a rifle now the war is over, I suppose they think we want something to look after now the fighting is over. They didn’t give us one when that was on, but I suppose that’s just like the Army. I don’t know what I want that for, but still it don’t matter, shall stand it in the corner out of the way. I have been on exchange work since being here so haven’t had to do any parades, so that is one thing to be thankful for.2
Across the various former theatres of war, officers and NCOs worked hard to provide for their men in preparation for what most realised would be their final Christmas together:
25 December 1918: Maglia:
Christmas Day was celebrated in a fashion wholly British in this small Italian village, and despite inclement weather, the arrangements made by the Battalion went off splendidly. In the morning the officers played the sergeants at football and the former were rather heavily beaten 7–3. The match however provided a good deal of fun, as the ground was in a very bad condition in many places completely under water. At 12.30 the Christmas dinners by Companies began and continued well into the afternoon. ‘A’ Coy had their real Christmas dinner the evening before owing to the difficulty in securing a room for Christmas Day. Lt-Col Bartlett DSO was unfortunately away, on leave, but when Maj P. PICKFORD DSO, MC visited the dining rooms, he was acclaimed by all ranks and toasted with musical honours, not once but many times. Scenes of joyous hilarity ensued and Christmas Day 1918 was undoubtedly the most enjoyable the Battalion had spent under active service conditions. (War Diary 1/4th Ox & Bucks Light Infantry)
As the fighting ceased, there was, in general, more of a loosening of military discipline around the celebrations, especially for those in camps awaiting the end of their military service. Drinking had always been an integral part of the soldier’s way of celebrating and many took full advantage of the changed circumstances they found at Christmas 1918:
Xmas Eve. Very gusty weather today and inclined to rain. A General Holiday. Sports which were to have taken place today are postponed to Boxing Day . . .
There was a Fancy Dress Ball in the canteen tonight but it was just spoilt by booze. A lot too much silly drinking; did not appeal to me. I went to bed early, thinking of the children in England ‘hanging up their stockings’ . . .
Thursday 26 December 1918: The Sports this afternoon were very good, all the usual running and jumping races. In the evening I went down to the Section and packed a box for home. Sgt Pat was absolutely canned [drunk]. (2 ACM Francis Blunt, 17 Training Depot Squadron, RAF Abu Sueir)
As 2/Lt Eric de Normann put it: ‘Xmas is always rather strenuous in the Army. The eating and drinking is always rather overdone – especially the latter.’3 At Marsh Pier Supply Depot, outside Salonika, where de Normann found himself that winter, the freely flowing alcohol led to an excess of Christmas spirit on the part of the men who became keen on showing the officers their vocal dexterity:
Last night we were invaded by two bands of carol singers all rather hoarse and unsteady! . . .
Most of the men didn’t go to bed last night, consequently everybody is rather tired. I went to bed at eleven, at 2 they had a debate as to whether they should sing carols outside my hut – luckily they decided I might object.4 (2/Lt Eric de Normann, ASC)
This is not to say that Blunt and de Normann did not enjoy the festive season that year. The former found his Christmas Day notably different from that he had experienced with the 2/15th Londons in 1917:
Xmas Day, Beautiful warm sunny day. Turkey, Xmas pudding etc for Xmas Dinner. Dinner supposed to cost 6/- a head but it was certainly not worth it. Excellent football match this afternoon between the staff and the pupils. This evening there was a splendid concert in the canteen which lasted until after midnight. During the evening Cobb and I took two flashlight photos of the Officers’ Mess dinner. They would insist on us joining with the champagne and other drinks. I went to bed at 1.30am tired out after a perfect day – such a contrast to a year ago, in the trenches beyond Jerusalem.
For de Normann, New Year’s Eve 1919 also brought first-class entertainment:
We had a great show here last night; the biggest social success of the Balkans! Namely a real pukka dance! Dancing was allowed this year to all sisters, and I had a bevy of Australian girls down – our mess looked awfully pretty. We had decorated it with signal flags – polished the floor – had a fine orchestra – good supper, plenty of champagne and were all as merry as larks from 8.30 till 3. I haven’t enjoyed mys
elf so much since I was in the army.5
As at military camps, the staff of military hospitals ensured the men in their care would not miss out on the celebrations. Among these was 3rd Air Mechanic John Roscoe (20th Depot Training Squadron), who was in Government Hospital, Suez, suffering from dysentery:
A tree has been fitted up in the yard, and electric lights arranged on it, while every night for the last week I have heard the staff and some of the patients downstairs singing Christmas carols. I suppose they intend to come round as Xmas waits. The music is mostly provided by the gramophone!
I went to the early morning Communion Service today. It was held in an empty ward downstairs. At 7 a.m. we got breakfast. The menu was as follows: Bread & butter, tea, 2 fried eggs, 1½ beef sausages, jam (damson). So you see we did jolly well. Even the patients on the No. 1 diet got the same breakfast, but the poor chaps couldn’t quite manage such a lot all at once, and those that ate all their own stuff were far too full up to think of helping anybody else.
The orderly came round first thing this morning with a big sack, from which he extracted small bags containing the patients’ Xmas gifts from the Red Cross. In mine I found 5 pkts cigarettes and 2 boxes matches (I gave all these away), a cardboard box of sweets (I did not give these away), a purple handkerchief, soap tablet, towel, writing paper, a Xmas card and a black lead.6
The sheer size of the British Army still in the field at the end of 1918, especially in France, meant that not all units could be accommodated in camps. Many continued to be billeted in towns and villages among the civilian population. One such unit was the 63rd Battalion of the Machine Gun Corps, which moved to the village of Elouges on 4 December:
We were very cordially received by the inhabitants and the Battalion marched past before dispersing to billets.
It was soon evident that with a little organization the Battalion would be very comfortable and it was with that idea that everyone settled down to work. All the men were very comfortable, every man either having bed or palliasse. (Battalion War Diary)
Christmas in the Trenches Page 12