A Broken World: Letters, Diaries and Memories of the Great War

by Sebastian Faulks

  In another letter Lieut. Dalton states – ‘Mr. Kettle died a grand and holy death, the death of a soldier and a true Christian.’

  MASS-OBSERVATION DIARISTS The Mass-Observation project was set up in 1937 by Tom Harrisson, Charles Madge and Humphrey Jennings. They recruited volunteer writers who would contribute details of their everyday lives. Included below is an excerpt from Madge and Harrisson’s book Britain by Mass-Observation (1939) about behaviour during the Armistice Silence on 11 November 1937. This was an unusual year as the service at the Cenotaph was interrupted by the shouts of ex-serviceman Stanley Storey. A newspaper report of this incident, published in the Manchester Guardian, is included here and is followed by a diarist’s report (not part of the project, but found in the Imperial War Museum); then a Day Survey from one of the Mass-Observers.

  When M-O decided to make a survey of the Silence, it was without any preconceived ideas about it. 1,000 observers were simply asked to describe exactly what happened to them between 10.30 and 11.30 on the morning of November 11, 1937. They sent in reports, which are analysed in this section.

  The survey, as it turned out, revealed the widespread feeling that the ceremony was already out-of-date and should be stopped. But this feeling would have remained voiceless without the intervention of ex-serviceman Stanley Storey. His shouts broke the silence. They were heard by millions who were listening in to the Cenotaph service. Next day this entitled Hannen Swaffer in the Daily Herald to write: ‘Armistice Day’s formal Empire service at the Cenotaph, with its Two Minutes’ Silence, should never be held again! Yesterday’s happenings made this even more obvious.’

  Five observers were near the Cenotaph, but only two of them knew that anything had happened. Of 56 who were listening in, 44 heard the interruption. The story was well told by the Manchester Guardian:

  ‘…An instant after the last wreath was in place, Big Ben struck the first note of eleven, the maroons sounded, and the silence fell like a curtain.

  For a few seconds the air was empty of every sound except the rustling of the plane leaves. And then suddenly there was a commotion on the pavement outside the Home Office and behind the line of Cabinet Ministers. The rigid line of sailors at the edge of the crowd was abruptly broken, and a thick-set, fair-haired man, bare-headed, and wearing a mackintosh, rushed out into the roadway, shouting in a high tormented voice, “All this hypocrisy!” and after it another phrase which sounded like “Preparing for war”.

  He ran forward in a direction which would have taken him past the Prime Minister, but half a dozen policemen burst through the gap after him and brought him down in a struggling heap about two yards away from Mr. Chamberlain. They piled themselves on top of him until he was invisible, and tried to muffle his shouts. But again one heard faintly from beneath the heap his cry of “All this hypocrisy”, and another incoherent sound in which one could only distinguish the word “war”.

  The Silence still held everybody else rigid and dumb. Mr. Chamberlain never moved, though all this was happening just behind him. The King turned his head slightly towards the disturbance for an instant, then looked to his front again and stood motionless. The sailors whose rank had been broken re-formed it silently. A police officer cantered up to see that everything necessary was being done, and the policemen on the ground got to their feet and dragged the interrupter back into the crowd, where they laid him down and kept him quiet. Not another sound or movement came from all those thousands of people; the Silence still held them.

  When at last it came to an end the police could be seen escorting the man away through the crowd towards Downing Street, where he was taken to an ambulance station. They were supporting rather than escorting him, for he seemed almost unconscious by this time and made no more noise.

  The crowd through which he passed remained orderly, so far as one could distinguish from a roof on the other side of the street, though there was a certain amount of shouting which was drowned by the roll of drums that followed the end of the Silence. A few excitable people are said to have shouted ‘Kill him!’ but so far as one could judge there were not many people who made any noisy protest.

  Afterwards one learned that the man was one Stanley Storey who had been confined to an asylum last February and had escaped in September. At the time, of course, this was not known, and his shout seemed rather the agonized cry of one who had found the strain of the moment and of his own convictions too much to be borne. As such it heightened one’s own feelings almost intolerably. There must be few people who can attend the celebrations of Armistice Day without having to thrust into the background of their minds the fear that all the suffering of twenty years ago has not prevented more sufferings to come…’

  From Britain by Mass-Observation,

  arranged and written by Charles Madge and Tom Harrisson (1939)

  Nov 11th.

  Armistice Day. The Cenotaph Service was broadcast and for the first time the silence was broken. A fanatic, escaped from a Mental Hospital, rushed up towards the King at the beginning of the silence shouting something about war & hypocrisy but was quickly removed. We heard it all on the wireless & wondered whatever was happening. In my opinion it’s about time this stopped, or else cut out of this glorious business of triumphant marching & bugles blowing etc. We listened to the Albert Hall do. It was wonderful – all the usual war choruses and jolly good bands – but much the best thing of all was during the service when two boys sang the first verse of ‘O Valiant Hearts’. There is nothing in music I like better than a fine boy’s voice, & these were so clear & beautiful, & they kept together so well that it sounded like one.

  When I think of a million young men killed in one blow it makes me squirm. Why can’t these people who want war think of it. And today if one person is shot there is an inquest & great fuss & punishment. A million die & yet it seems that even another million will have to be slaughtered. I remember Rev. Fowler saying in Rye Pulpit – ‘There is no glory in war!’ & how true.

  Miss M. Cooke, diary, 11 November 1937, Imperial War Museum

  Croxon

  D. S. 46

  Grimsby

  Armistice Day.

  I cannot buy a poppy, for I have not got a penny. not so rich. 11. o’ clock, what an unearthly silence. My thoughts are upon my little children in School, their heads will be bowed in reverence to our beloved dead. It is all very sad for the relatives of the fallen, for it seems a pity to keep on reopening an old wound, causing a heartache. I don’t think any body really wishes to remember the war and its horrors. I am thinking and worrying about my child’s wet feet, hoping that her leaking shoe will not soak her foot, wet feet mean bronchitis for her, unless I can stop it with my favourite medicine. Her father served throughout the war in the Royal Navy as minesweeper; his three medals I would exchange for a pair of shoes for his child. If he were here he would say I had done right.

  Somebody has just knocked at my door, (the silence is over) a gentleman with a poppy in his buttonhole has called from the County Court. He makes sure I am Mrs – He asks if this is all the home I have (looking round). It consists of three old chairs, a table, a couple of pictures, our bed. Of course they are not worth the taking. they would not raise 2/6 in the saleroom. So I am very grateful for small mercies. This warrant is for a water rate due on the house which we occupied previous to living here nearly a year ago, the amount of rate owing was 8s. 9d. now they bring it to 16 shillings some people endeavour to get rich quick. Nice time to distress any body, armistice day.

  There are a few words upon a poppy day appeal poster to this effect. Our glorious dead will not rest if we do not observe – I cannot remember the exact words, but I have often wondered wether [sic] my husband has rested at the particular times when his little children’s bed has been put in the gutter, not only once – Now, I turn to my Bible, in one chapter of James which reads Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted
from the world. It would not be God’s laws to turn a widow and little children on to the street. because they have very little money.

  E. Croxon

  ALBERT and ERNEST FLETCHER were former servicemen who also responded to the BBC’s call for war memories in 1963. Their anger at being forgotten by the country for which they fought is evident from this letter.

  FLETCHER

  WOKING

  SURREY

  SEPT 9th

  SIRS

  I WEAR MONS STAR SO DO MY BROTHER LATE DORSETS I AM LATE QUEENS ROYAL WEST SURREY WE COULD TELL YOU QUITE A LOT ABOUT GRATITUDE ETC AND BEING THROWN ON THE RUBBISH HEAP BY A GRATEFULL COUNTRY

  WE ARE ALWAYS AT HOME OLD AGE PENSIONERS AND FORGOTEN, RUBBING OUR WOUNDS

  Yours faithfully

  Albert and Ernest

  Fletcher

  SIEGFRIED SASSOON AND TONY ESSEX The following letters were exchanged between the poet Siegfried Sassoon (1886–1967) and the BBC television producer Tony Essex between 1963 and 1964. Essex was trying to persuade Sassoon to contribute lines of poetry to the documentary series, The Great War; the suggestion was that he write introductory verses to accompany the opening credits of each episode.

  October 22nd 1963

  Siegfried Sassoon Esq., C.B.E.

  Heytesbury House

  Warminster

  Wiltshire

  Dear Mr. Sassoon:

  Some time ago we had a delightful lunch with Edmund Blunden. After lunch he was calling upon you. I am quite sure he will have told you of our massive project here at the BBC, that of making 26 half hour (or longer) films telling the social, political and military History of the Great War. Apart from all the film and photographs available, we are also hoping to make extensive use of the great poetry, literature and paintings of the time, and one day your agent will doubtless be hearing from us about those poems of yours we seek to use. The whole series should be magnificent; it is certainly the biggest and most moving undertaking the BBC has ever tackled.

  I am writing to ask if you could make a personal and vital contribution to our series by creating an introductory verse for each of the 26 films in our series?

  I intend to open each film with a composite scene of ‘Grief’ (by Rodin) overlooking a battlefield, and want a six-line verse which starts on the theme of ‘I saw a million men etc…’ and ends on the theme of ‘they went laughing to death’ or words to that effect. The middle two lines should change with each programme, and be in keeping with the subject of that programme, a full list of which will be sent to you if you feel you can undertake this task for us.

  I do not need to tell you how honoured we would be to publish a new poem by you during the course of our series, and so I await your feelings on the matter with eager interest.

  Yours sincerely:

  Tony Essex Producer: ‘The Great War’

  HEYTESBURY HOUSE

  WILTSHIRE

  Warminster

  24.10.63

  Dear Mr Essex.

  E. B. [Edmund Blunden] told me about your undertaking, Naturally I would wish to be of any help possible, though I am no longer an active writer. I have never been able to produce verse to order, and am by no means sure that what you plan could be done properly by anyone. But if you will send me the schedule of programmes I will think it over, & consult EB, who might collaborate with me. It would have to be unrhymed. But would not an eloquent prose caption be more suitable? Any kind of poetizing would be out of key, of course.

  Yours sincerely,

  S.

  I do not employ an agent.

  The BBC. deals with me direct.

  November 8, 1963

  Siegfried Sassoon Esq., C.B.E.

  Heytesbury House

  WARMINSTER

  Wiltshire

  Dear Mr Sassoon,

  Thank you for your letter of October 24th. I am grateful that you will consider our task, and attach a list of themes of each of our twenty-six programmes. The second copy is for Edmund Blunden to whom I note you will be writing.

  I had a feeling I was asking rather a lot, but hope you can have a try at this – prose would not really be suitable (although, I take your point about it not rhyming – it really isn’t necessary that it should).

  What I want is something Michael Redgrave can speak at the beginning of each film which will set the theme of the particular programme and introduce the subsidiary title which will appear as the verse ends. This verse will also be printed in the ‘Radio Times’, week by week, so that viewers will know the theme and mood of the film they are about to see.

  I look forward to hearing that you might be able to manage something, and am most grateful to you for your interest.

  Yours sincerely,

  TONY ESSEX

  Producer: ‘The Great War’

  Programme 1: This programme defines the political structure of Europe, and how jealousies, dreams of power, inter-family disputes, the shift of economic balance and an interlacing of alliances gradually create a situation where War becomes inevitable. The programme ends with the assassination at Sarajevo.

  Programme 2: This programme traces the events from the Sarajevo assassination to the outbreak of war. It shows how, in stages, in the key nations, military leaders, because they are ready, gradually take over the formulation of their nation’s policy thus making a clash of arms unavoidable. Even the Kaiser drew back at the last moment, but it was too late, and fighting broke out, over a period of days, throughout Europe.

  Programme 3: This programme shows how Servia [sic] and Belgium captured the imagination by heroic resistance against tremendous power. In the West the Schleiffen [sic] Plan unfolds, the French amid appalling losses, press deep into a vast trap prepared for them, the British Army lands and marches into a lesser trap, and the youth of Europe flocks to join in before it is all over.

  Programme 4: This programme studies the gradual loss of direction and impetus in the German strategy, how the Eastern assaults grind to a standstill, and how, in the West, by adroit side-stepping under the control of Joffre, the Allied Armies survive Mons and the Retreat etc. and reform to open the Battle of the Marne.

  […]

  16th December 1963

  Dear Mr. Sassoon,

  Just a note as I wonder how you feel about our project and if it is possible that in due course you may be able to come up with something.

  More important, I write for all of us here to wish you a very Happy Christmas and a healthy, prosperous New Year.

  Yours sincerely,

  Tony Essex

  Producer, ‘Great War’ Series

  Siegfried Sassoon Esq., C.B.E

  Heytesbury House,

  WARMINSTER,

  Wiltshire.

  23rd January 1964

  Dear Mr. Sassoon,

  I wonder if you are yet able to let me know how you feel about writing for our project? I hate to appear to be pressing you, but as you probably know, the mad world of television is filled with schedules, deadlines and so on.

  Very sincerely,

  Tony Essex

  Producer, ‘The Great War’ series

  Heytesbury House,

  24-1-64

  Dear Essex.

  I assumed that my silence would be taken as dissent! Blunden agreed with me that your idea is impracticable – anyhow for him and me. Six respectable lines of generalisation might be produced, but the alteration each time of the middle lines seems to me near to absurdity. I can only imagine such cracks as

  /And now we do our best to show

  What Haig arranged with Clemenceau—/

  or

  And here Lloyd George pulls off his task with

  Doing the dirty on old Asquith—/

  Apologies for ribaldry, and best of luck.

  Yours sincerely,

  S

  30th Jan 1964

  Dear Mr. Sassoon,

  Thank you for your note (and for the couplets!)

  Put like that, I agree the idea sound
s a bit off, but I hasten to assure you this was not quite what I had in mind!! However, I accept your decision sadly and wish you well.

  Very sincerely,

  (Tony Essex)

  Producer, ‘The Great War’

  ARTHUR MEE (1875–1943) was a journalist and writer, born in Nottinghamshire. The work from which the passage below has been drawn, Enchanted Land: Half-a-Million Miles in the King’s England (1936), was a piece of travel writing which surveyed the counties of England. One chapter charts his visits to small memorials up and down the country: ‘the visible mark of the Great War in every place.’ He concludes the chapter by writing of the ‘Thankful Villages’; they were given this title because all their men returned.

  Now and then on the tour through our ten thousand villages there has come to us the thrill of joyfulness to find no sad memorials, and twenty times and more we have come upon a village thankful for all its men came back. The thrill came to us first in Somerset after we had been riding for miles on the hills that look down on Bath, and in our minds the small place called Woolley stands out as the first of England’s Thankful Villages.

  It stands superbly on a ridge, but we must wind and wind and wind through a maze if we would find this little place; there is just room to get the car between the hedges without hurting the grasshoppers, and at last we see it shining like a gem on a sunny day, a tiny church between two barns.