"Had it not been for the rum ration I do not think we should have won the war."
Alcohol in the Great War.
In this article I’m going to take a look at subject that tends to be addressed in passing references, so I thought it was time for a deep dive. I’m partial to a beer or two, and it occurred to me that I’d only ever seen snippets of information about how alcohol was used, abused and controlled during the Great War. So, I’ve spent a bunch of time churning through the books to present a history of booze in the First World War. In the course of my research, I’ve looked at the experience across the belligerent powers and focused in more detail on the British experience.
We begin by looking at the British home front.
Concerns about the effect of alcohol on the home front and, particularly, on war production led to significant changes in the way in which the people of Britain were able to buy and consume drink. As Lloyd George, the fiery Liberal politician, during his period as Minister for Munitions, said "We are fighting Germany, Austria and drink, and as far as I can see, the greatest of these three deadly foes is drink?” Another time, he maintained that drink was doing “more damage in the War than all the German submarines put together.”
How true his, and others’, fears were is difficult to say, but the measures the government took show the seriousness they took them. Of course, most things are more complicated than they look, and it was not just fear for war production that drove people to insist that alcohol would result in the collapse of civilisation as we know it. For example, Lloyd George came from the radical non-conformist tradition and had strong pre-existing views on the demon drink, so was naturally disposed to see alcohol consumption as a problem whether there was a war on or not.
Lloyd George was instrumental in convincing the King to give up alcohol for the duration of the war; I'm taking this as a sign that the King, in common with many others, was expecting a short war! The possibility, of extending prohibition to the who country was discussed in the cabinet, but wisely rejected. Instead, the duties on spirits, strong beers and sparkling wines were increased, as the government leaned on indirect taxation, instead of income tax, to shore up its finances.
Regardless of the reasons, there were genuine fears about the impact of drink on war production. Towards the end of 1914, beer consumption dropped, as prices rose due to duty increases, but spirits become more popular as incomes had also grown. The fears about alcohol affecting war production were particularly acute in relation to the all-important construction of naval ships. In April 1915, 33 men from Special Branch were sent to the dockyards around the UK to see what impact alcohol abuse was having on production. The reports were variable with riveters being the trade worst affected by their tendency to problems caused by over consumption, and this particularly affected production on Mondays. The results of the Special Branch investigation were, however, variable, with Clydebank suffering more than Plymouth.
Having decided that excise duties were to be used instead of prohibition, and having ruined the King’s dinner parties for the next four years, the government also brought in other restrictions during the course of the war. Pub licencing laws were changed to reduce opening hours (lunchtime and evenings only), beer was brewed with just a quarter of its previous strength, and the buying of rounds of drinks was prohibited by the “No treating order”, that specified that all drinks had to be paid for by the drinker, effectively preventing drinking on credit.
In one part of the country considered particularly sensitive, Gretna, where a huge ammunition factory employed 15,000 workers, the government’s Central Control Board took control of five local breweries and 363 licensed premises covering an area of 300 square miles. In this area restrictions on advertising (even displaying bottles in the windows), price controls and specific orders controlling particularly troublesome pubs were implemented.[1]
It seems these measures had some effect both locally and nationally; over the course of the war beer production fell from 37 million barrels in 1914 to 21 million in 1918. Convictions for drunkenness fell year on year from 184,000 in 1914, to around 29,000 in 1918.
Across Europe the experience varied. In line with Britain’s experience, the main concern expressed on the various home fronts was the effect on the war effort, and of wasting valuable foodstuffs on something as non-essential as drink; this tended some nations towards “temperance” measures.
In Russia, the government erred towards prohibition. All state liquor shops were shut down in the run up to the war as a mobilisation measure. No one wanted drunkenness to cause problems with the mobilisation when such strict schedules were in place. However, this measure was extended for the duration of the war on the 3rd September 1914. The maximum strength of spirits was reduced from 40% to 37% and the sale of alcohol in places of entertainment was prohibited. These measures had the unforeseen effect of removing an important government revenue stream, whilst pushing money into the hands of criminals; it seems that, if a Russian wants a drink, they'll find a way![2]
In France, banning wine was probably considered a step too far, but the dangers of Absinthe became a focus for the government. On the 16th of August 1914, the sale of Absinthe was prohibited, with its production and distribution being banned the following February. Absinthe, it seems, was particularly targeted because of its popularity (pre-war some 36 million litres had been consumed), and partly because of fears that it was linked to tuberculosis, insanity, epilepsy and, as a consequence, crime, all of which could damage the war effort. Other spirits were targeted to a lesser extent, with sales to women prohibited (!) and the maximum strength being reduced to 23%.
When the Americans entered the war, they brought with them a strong tradition of temperance, which was to manifest after the war in the 1920 Prohibition experiment. Whilst measures at home were limited, there were prohibitions already in place to protect the armed forces, with the 1901 Canteen Act banning the “sale of, or dealing in, beer, wine or any intoxicating liquors by any person in any post exchange or canteen or army transport, or upon any premises used for military purposes by the United States.”
On the Entente side, the Italian experience differed to that of Britain, France and the United States. Italy had a strong temperance movement before the war, but this was essentially neutralised with the outbreak of hostilities and the recognition that their troops deserved the “spiritual fuel” that alcohol provided.
The Central Powers were not bothered by issues of temperance. The German and Austro-Hungarian alcohol industries was left alone, except for a general decline in production caused by scarcity of the raw materials needed to produce alcohol. The Ottoman Empire didn’t even have to think about the issue, as its mainly Muslim subjects wouldn’t touch alcohol as a matter of Koranic obedience.
Temperance was not just a matter for the home front. The British Army had a strong tradition of abstinence, promoted by The Army Temperance Society, and was often strongest amongst NCOs. Concerned individuals tried to provide alternatives to the ubiquitous regimental “wet canteen”, which was a place of cheap, weak beer, such as the “garrison institute coffee shop” or “Sandy's soldiers' home”, which provided tea and coffee as substitutes for beer alongside such home comforts as comfy chairs and cheap sandwiches. This who abstained from drinking were often nicknamed "tea busters" or "bun wallahs".
Prior to the war, experiments in the British Army had shown that rifle accuracy deteriorated when soldiers had drunk even a small amount of rum and there are other examples of military inefficiency caused by alcohol[3]. Gordon Lennox, of the Guards recalled marching from the port to their first camp in France in 1914; "It was the hottest much I have ever done and hope ever shall... With the sun on our backs and no air, everyone felt the heat very much, and the men started falling out, a few at first and then more. The inhabitants in their kindness were responsible for a good deal of this, as they persisted in giving the men drinks, among which was a very acrid form of cider[4] which had dire results. I have never seen march discipline so lax before, and hope I never shall again."
Despite the best efforts to steer men away from the drink, the majority still partook, some to excess. In the year 1912-1913, 9,230 soldiers were tried for drunkenness, and we have to assume that this is the tip of an iceberg as there were lesser punishments available that wouldn’t have affected the statistics. There’s no getting away from the fact that consuming alcohol could result in behaviour that could result in punishment. Fights between units would break out in pubs once the beer had been flowing, often started by inter-unit banter that caused first offence and then fists to fly.
Away from the front lines, or when on leave, opportunities to drink might be seized upon, with little thought for the consequences. Take, for example, the case of two soldiers in the 4th Hussars who discovered that they were being billeted the British Expeditionary Force’s own warehouse, alongside the army’s rum stocks and helped themselves. The two miscreants were sentenced to three months in prison.
The men of the “other ranks” of the British army, that is those who were not officers, were prohibited from drinking spirits, with the exception of the limited amount of official prescribed rum that was available. An officially sanctioned tot of rum (one-sixteenth of a pint) was available for the men when divisional commanders, on the advice of the Medical Officer, deemed that conditions were suitably arduous. It seems that the definition of “arduous” was generally pretty loose, with most officers seeing the rum ration as a useful way of maintaining morale; a suitable reward for the men.
The rum provided to British troops was a thick, syrupy, spirit, that was brewed and distilled to an incredibly strong 80%. The British, and Commonwealth forces, were unique in providing rum, a tradition going back to the availability of cheap, plentiful rum as a consequence of the British capture of Jamaica back in the mid-17th century. The allowance was 2.5 ounces (70 millilitres) and was generally provided daily for the men whilst they were in the trenches, less frequently for those behind the lines. The spirit was provided in solid earthenware jars marked ‘S.R.D.’, an acronym that stood for ‘Supply Reserve Depot’, but the men came up with various other speculative definitions, ranging from the plausible ‘Special Red Demerara’ to the bitter ‘Seldom Reaches Destination’, ‘Service Rum Diluted’, ‘Soon Runs Dry’, ‘Sergeants Rarely Deliver’ and the rather lovely ‘Soldiers’ Real Delight’.
One other reason for drinking alcohol in the trenches was the difficulty of getting other drinks. Water was generally heavily chlorinated to purify it, so tasted bad. Tea was welcome but lighting a fire to boil water often attracted shellfire, so wasn’t worth the risk. The other problem with water and tea was that, with no infrastructure to get water to the front, it had to be carried forward in old petrol containers, and these often hadn't been cleaned out properly by burning to remove the taste of the fuel. A tot of rum in a bad cup of tea, could turn it into a good cup of tea!
The rum ration was issued by officers who supervised doling it out, observed the men drinking it (to prevent hoarding) and checked that each man who wanted it got just the one tot each. The rum ration would be mixed in with tea to make a warming drink or issued in less complicated ways, Corporal Charles Quinnell, of the Royal Fusiliers, recalled how, "the platoon sergeant would come along the trench of a night time with a big tablespoon and this mess tin full of rum. The cry was 'Open up' and you'd open your mouth and he'd pour this tablespoon of rum down your throat.”
The men generally appreciated the rum ration, and many testimonies exist about the comfort it gave. John Reith said, “[It] was a very real boon, even to a habitual char wallah like myself... It warmed us up, eased tension, and even helped soothe the inevitable toothache and abscess troubles."
The tot of rum wasn’t mandatory, but the majority of the men were happy to partake, seeing it as a highlight of their day. As Robert Graves recorded "Our men looked forward to their tot of rum at dawn stand-to as the brightest moment of their 24 hours. When this was denied to them, their resistance weakened." And Graves was certain that the sick-list grew as a direct consequence of withholding the rum ration.
The temperance movement seemed to worry about the troops drinking more than, in the view of the soldiers, was really necessary. Those trying to interfere with the rum allocation were, in the words of Edward Underhill, “fools, for it is the best thing out here. On a cold morning after a cold night a tot of rum is very good!”
Gerald Burgoyne said "A drop of rum in our tea works wonders. Sir Victor Horsley and all the drink cranks can say what they like about the issue of rum to the troops, and drink generally, but if instead of writing from the comforts of a nice cosy room they'd put a few days in the trenches I'm sure they'd change their minds. We don't want rum in the cold, or for the cold; but we want it as a 'pick me up’ when we are 'done to the wide.’”
When the rum ration was stopped for whatever reasons, it caused real resentment, as Lieutenant Maurice Asprey, of the East Kent Regiment, said in a letter home on the 26th April 1915, “They have … stopped the men’s rum ration … because a blithering lot of fools made complaints about the amount of rum being sent out to English troops. I don’t believe half of the men could have existed without it all through the winter, and even now it’s awfully cold standing too [sic] at daybreak.”
The rum ration was not really enough to get drunk on, but sometimes opportunities arose, and these, it seems, were seldom passed over! A common pattern seems to have been that the ration for a platoon would go missing, or perhaps more was issued to the ration party than was needed.
Gerald Burgoyne recounted how the ration for his platoon, intended as a St Patrick's day celebration was, instantly drunk by the NCOs alone resulting in them “'getting beastly drunk... instead of giving each man in the platoon a shot." Perhaps there was truth in the popular song “The Old Barbed Wire”, which include the verse
If you want to find the sergeant-major,
I know where he is, I know where he is.
If you want to find the sergeant-major,
I know where he is,
He’s boozing up the privates’ rum.
I’ve seen him, I’ve seen him,
Boozing up the privates’ rum,
I’ve seen him,
Boozing up the privates’ rum.
In another account Private Ernest Parker recounts how he was sent to get the rum for his section and returned with a half-full dixie (imagine a drum-shaped bucket with a lid that carried about three gallons of liquid). The men of his section were delighted and "loud in their praises, but soon became incoherent, retiring heavily into the shelter to fall fast asleep". Later, when their Captain made his rounds, he found a sentry asleep and the NCO was “severely reprimanded, but when we came out of the line no one was placed under arrest and we realised the dear old bombing officer had not reported us.”
It seems that often such incidents might be glossed over. Bernard Livermore recounts how he received his rum ration in the morning, then was given extra, as there had been casualties, and the surplus rum was shared out amongst the remaining men. Bernard was already feeling pretty chipper when a kindly officer then decided that he was looking chilly and gave him a tot from his whisky flask. This was all good, in fact a "happy, happy day" until he was sent with a message to battalion HQ; "I strode off briskly but, almost immediately, my legs let me down and I crashed."
Luckily for Bernard, his Company Sergeant Major diagnosed the problem quickly;
‘How much rum did you have?’
‘Quite a nice lot, Major. Jolly good stuff that rum.’
‘And I suppose you've eaten nothing since four o'clock last night? I know what's the matter with you.’
Bernard was sat down on the fire-step and told "Don't you dare move until you've recovered. If any officer asks what you are doing... tell them CSM Dawes found you ill in the trench and ordered you to rest. Have you got that clearly?"
Bernard got it clearly, going on to describe Dawes as 'A great man, our CSM."
Sometimes the propensity of soldiers to help themselves had tragic results. Corporal Ivor Watkins, of the Welch Regiment recollected how, "the rum was given to keep your tummy warm during the night. We never got drunk. But while we were in the Bethune sector in March, two chaps stole a jar of rum. They were dead by the following morning. They drank so much they regurgitated and killed themselves.”
Second Lieutenant Tom Adkins recalled how he was told to escort some prisoners back as a part of the Somme battle. "I came to a little dugout, and there was a body lying on the floor there. I said 'Why is that stiff down there? Why don't you get him out of the way?' 'He ain't a stiff, sir. He got at the rum jar. He's as tight as an owl.' He looked dead.”
Whilst most of these cases passed without serious consequences, alcohol was controlled tightly as drunk men in the front lines could be a danger to both themselves and those around them. Drunk men could fall asleep at sentry duty, already a capital offense on account of its serious nature, whereas men under the influence of alcohol could be careless, or worse reckless.
A drunk soldier of the Royal Fusiliers, waiting for the command to attack in September 1917 shouted out “Over the top! Over the top! We’re coming for you!” before a morning attack. Immediately an officer commanded that the man be quietened down and the noise stopped. Gerald Burgoyne, recalling the story, said, “When I went along the next day I found him very quiet. Someone had stuck a bayonet in him.”
Rum was often given as a 'stiffener' before an attack. It wasn't enough to get the men drunk but, as Private Albert Day of the 1/4 btn Gloucestershire regiment said, 'I suppose that made it a little better". And Siegfried Sasson recalled how, “the raiders had been given only a small quantity, but it was enough to hearten them as they sploshed up the communications trench.” Colonel Walter Nicholson said that Rum “saved thousands of lives. It is an urgent devil to the Highlander… a solace to the East Anglian countryman before the fight.”
On rare occasions, excesses were officially sanctioned as a precursor to combat. In these cases, it seems that the strict regulation of the rum ration wasn't observed, and these incidents are the likely causes for myths about young men being 'battle-doped' so they would venture out into the face of certain death. These, apparently, isolated incidents seem to have either been a localised decision by an officer or a mistaken over-allocation of the spirit.
For example, Corporal Dan Murray, of the Kings Own Yorkshire Light Infantry remembered how before the Somme offensive, "at about 12pm, each dugout had a gallon bottle of rum put in the dugout. Nearly every man was drunk. Blind drunk. I thought to myself, this looks to me like a sacrifice. I never touched any. I determined to keep my head. Just as well I did.
Another anonymous source recalled how, once again on the Somme, "Before the attack, there was - the only time I saw it - an unrestricted issue of rum. There was a large jar of rum being passed around, and men holding their mess tins out for it. At the request of the artillery, the attack was postponed for an hour, and the rum was still being passed around in that hour. I just had a sip, but a lot of the older soldiers were walloping it down. When we eventually went over, they were a mob of raving, screaming maniacs. Some of them even forgot to take their rifles!” Luckily, they met little opposition and took their objective. The account continues "One man said to me afterwards, 'I don't remember a lot about it, but we must have frightened the bloody daylights out of Jerry.’"
The King's regulations were abundantly clear that drunkenness on duty, was an offence and would result in the culprit being “placed in close arrest, alone if possible” and may be “deprived of his boots except when the weather is cold and he is likely to suffer in consequence.” Once under arrest, the soldier was to be given time to sober up before his offence would be investigated by an officer; "For this purpose twenty-four hours should usually be allowed to elapse before the investigation".
Whilst the regulations were clear, in practice a certain latitude was extended to the men. Whether this was, as we have seen, in the practical business of keeping morale intact, in extending a kindness to those who needed it, or in overlooking indiscretions in otherwise reliable soldiers, the regulations were often set aside.
This was particularly true on special occasions, for example, on Christmas Day 1916, Brian Lawrence recounted how "as we had a large supply of drink, I went round the company and distributed a bottle of port and a bottle of brandy to each platoon, strictly against regulations of course, but I think it marked the occasion in a fitting manner and did no harm."
Officers were not subject to the same restrictions as the “other ranks” and were allowed to buy spirits, generally whisky, to consume as they saw fit. Of course, to buy alcohol, they needed the money. Junior officers weren't paid particularly well, so were unlikely to purchase whisky all the time, however, the demand was there, and the ever-resourceful Harrods department store was there to serve that demand with an offer to ship cases of whisky to France at three shillings a bottle.
Sharing a drink with their fellow officers was a convivial, social, and bonding experience. On arrival at a unit, officers were often greeted with the "ordinary courtesies of the trenches in the shape of a cigarette and whisky and water in a tin cup."
For officers, subject to enormous amounts of stress, the responsibilities of command, and the need to maintain the bearing of an officer, many found that whisky could become a useful tool in their armoury. Lieutenant Arthur Graeme West recounted how, when under heavy shellfire, he drank “enough whisky to enable me to view the prospect with nothing but interested excitement, and really did not flinch as the shells fell.”
Edmund Campion, having found the value of a stiff whisky to steady his nerves, later saw a fellow officer shaking with fear under shellfire and gave him "a 'whacking dose of rum” to send him off to sleep in an alcoholic stupor.
Whilst whisky was the usual drink for officers, other beverages were available. Champagne was favoured by many, with one Bim Tennant noting that "when one comes in a 3am, after no sleep for 50 hours, it gives one the strength to undress." Port was another choice and a range of drinks were often an integral part of an officers' mess when things were quiet in the line. The names of British Mark I tanks that took part in the battle at Flers-Courcelette in September 1916, Chablis, Champagne, Chartreuse, Cognac, Cordon Rouge and Creme de menthe, along with other, more martial names, hint at the range of drinks that officers were capable of recalling from memory.
Second Lieutenant Stuart Cloete recounted how, "Dinner was like lunch, only more elaborate, with wine to drink, or whisky and soda, and it ended with liquors." One company of the Royal Fusiliers, looking forward to the Battle of the Somme took a range of drinks with them into the line including six bottles of vintage wine, brandy, Curacao and other essentials.
Despite their access to unrestricted alcohol, it seems the officers largely kept within limits, or, at least, were unlikely to get into trouble if they didn't. 252 officers were subject to court martial trials during the Great War, with the most common offense being drunkenness, accounting for 52% of cases. However, such small numbers probably conceal many cases of officers who drank to excess and were never prosecuted.
Take, for example, the account of Robert Graves who maintained that. "The unfortunates were officers who had endured two years or more of continuous trench service. In many cases they become dipsomaniac. I knew three or four who had worked up to the point of two bottles of whisky a day before being lucky enough to get wounded or be sent home in some or other way." The satirical trench newspaper “The B.E.F Times[5]” of the 10th April 1917 took a satirical look at the problem with an advert for "THE DRINK HABIT" and a promise that abstainers could be converted within just three days.
Graves was able to see the stress in others and later admitted that he, himself, was drinking a bottle a day during late September and early October 1915 during the offensive against La Bassée. Obviously, heavy drinking wouldn't have helped with decision-making amongst the officers but, given that much of the war was just a case of 'sticking it', it seems alcohol helped with that.
Off duty, the soldiers were able to purchase drink behind the lines, in cafés, restaurants and estimanets, but in separate establishments serving the officers and men. The authorities controlled opening hours and restricted those serving “other ranks” from providing spirits, although enforcing this wasn’t always easy. For the officers, a better class of establishment was available. We think it was Robert Graves who recounted in a letter to his old school’s magazine how, in Bethune, the Café du Globe, a place that would serve cocktails, was frequented by the officers and “every officer’s charger in at least eight divisions knows the way to its doors: from early dawn to the curfew toll they are lined up in the sunny square outside, chestnut, black, roan, bay, sorrel and mouse-coloured, waiting for their masters that are drinking inside.”
Rum wasn’t just useful for warming cold sentries and making officers feel a little braver. Private Philip Cullen, of the Oxford and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry, recalled how “'In July and August [on the Somme] the flies and the stench were terrible. It was piteously hot and the dead don't stay very long before they start to smell. If it hadn't been for Bill Healey, our second sergeant, I don’t suppose I should have been here. He saw me laying and panting, I couldn't breathe. The stench had got into my throat. I don't know where the hell he got it from, but Bill always had a water bottle full of rum. He poured it down me. I was spluttering, and it cut whatever was in my throat. I was able to breathe again."
For those tasked with the unenviable task of recovering and burying the dead, a stiff drink could be an important crutch. Private Ernest Spillett, of the Canadian 46th Battalion, wrote in a 1917 letter about his experience. “I am used to these sights, they don’t have to prime me with rum before I can handle a man; altho’ I have and do certainly drink it sometimes on those jobs but usually afterwards, to take the taste of dead men out of my mouth.”
The medicinal use of rum extended to the official medical infrastructure, with rum being an important painkiller and sedative for the wounded and dying, one soldier described the aftermath of an attack as smelling “of rum and blood.” Rum was used as an initial-treatment for shellshock, with the theory that a period of sedation might be the cure. Beyond its immediate medical uses, the rum ration may have helped to prevent soldiers from reporting sick; a Black Watch medical officer, Lt Col James S.Y. Rogers, explained to the War Office Committee on Shell Shock that 'had it not been for the rum ration I do not think we should have won the war.” It seems that the medical authorities were torn between the value of alcohol in boosting morale and concerns over the negative effects.
Away from the army, the British Royal Flying Corps was no stranger to the value and dangers of alcohol. The airmen experienced a very different type of war; away from the trenches, the opportunity for regular supply of drink existed and, with most being officers, they were not subject to the rules governing 'other ranks'.
In common with the army, alcohol was used as a social-bonding 'glue' , a lubricant to ease away fear, and a way of handling the sustained levels of stress to which they were subjected. Pilots and observers shared a core fear, that of being burned alive in a doomed aircraft. This spectre of a horrible death haunted even the most experienced airmen, Mick Mannock recounted his 'first 'flamerino' when he shot down Lieutenant Fritz Freak; “it was a horrible sight and made me feel sick." Drinks in the officer's mess helped turn these events and the repeated loss of many comrades, particularly when life expectancy for new RFC pilots was startlingly short, into an opportunity for black humour.
End of day drinks might be enough for many, but some men drank more than others. As one account goes, “show me a good, stout-hearted, cool, dependable air fighter, and I'll show you, nine times out of ten, a hard drinker... It lets them relax, it enabled them to forget and it made them sleep."
Squadron parties, or “drunks”, were organised or “happened” regularly. Little excuse was needed; combat success, heavy losses, a gallantry award to one of their number, or even the whim of a commanding officer, could result in a “bloody wonderful drunk.” Parties were occasions for raucous singing practical jokes and boisterous, often violent, games. The classic air force song 'The dying airman' includes the verse,
“And get you six brandies and sodas
And lay them all out in a row,
And get you six other good airmen
To drink to this pilot below."
Drinking culture is also evident in 46 Squadron’s signature cocktail “Health and Strength” of which Arthur Gould-Lee wrote “Everyone has to like it whether he does or not. It's made of eggs, brandy, port and several kinds of liquor. We drank it at the dinner table, one foot on the chair, the other on the table, to the toast, ‘Cheerio, Forty-six,’ yelled very, very ear-splittingly."
Once the party was underway, boisterous behaviour was the order of the day. Visiting officers were “de-bagged” (their trousers forcible removed), arse-prints were made on ceilings and moustaches might be shaved off. Violent games, such as soda siphon fights, indoor contact sports and a game known as “High Cockalorum”, which involved forming a single row of about a dozen men into a scrum and then allowing attackers to charge in and jump down onto the scrums' backs to try and collapse it[6]. Not surprisingly, injuries occurred as backs were injured, limbs got broken and broken glass flew about. This wasn't to every participant’s taste; as an American pilot said "These Englishmen sure have a funny idea of a party. They want to smash everything.”
As in the trenches, special occasions were an opportunity for a party. Sergeant Horace Hales, of 24 Squadron, described Christmas Day 1916 in a letter to his sisters. The meal began soberly enough, with "roast pork and turkey, brussel sprouts, potatoes, Xmas pudding and custard... washed down with copious draughts of BEER and lemonade.” So far, so good for teetotal Horace, but in the evening a concert was held with singing, magic shows and plenty of fruit, "and, whisper it not near the Band of Hope meeting, BEER, CIDER, CHAMPAGNE etc. As was to be expected, there were some comical and pitiable sights to be seen.” On Boxing Day it was the officers’ and senior NCOs’ turn, Horace goes on. “In the evening our concert was again invaded by the officers (who seem to prefer our evenings to those in their own mess). They turned the place upside down, broke plates and glasses, also the door off the hinges, fell through the floor, bulged the walls, went outside and came back covered in mud, having fallen in rain water pits." One man was 'drinking neat whisky and Benedictine liquor and soon became lively. By aid of grease paints they gave this man a gorilla-like appearance, which caused immense fun. He tried to kiss and cuddle the officers, who thoroughly enjoyed it, and accepted the embraces gracefully!”
Of course, not every airman drank to excess all the time as being drunk or hungover was unlikely to result in high quality flying. Sholto Douglas, commanding a squadron explained how parties were important for "my pilots to let off steam”, but had to be limited as “we could not indulge in heavy drinking and fighting in the air at the same time." Others recognised the danger as individuals, Reginald Fulljames, flying with 53 Squadron said that "life was always dangerous, and a wise man was not drunk too often."
Away from the British experience, the French Poilu[7] carried a two-litre flask, which could be filled with wine, water or coffee, depending on the soldier’s preference. Some soldiers chose to buddy up with a friend, one carrying one drink, one another, so they had options available. Wine was issued to the men, initially in quarter-litre rations (pinata) and later half a litre per day. Of course, many French men considered this totally inadequate
!
The French Army took the supply of wine to the troops seriously and the men rarely missed out, after all, wine was important for maintaining morale. Red wine was provided as the norm as it was considered more masculine than vin blanc and therefore contributed more to the men’s fighting spirit. Additional wine could be purchased and, stronger drinks were available behind the lines, sometimes purchasable from brothels alongside other services.
Whilst the French wine supply was generally assured, the quality was not. Wine ranged from types that you or I might recognise through to jellied wine that had to be heated to return it to liquid form. The wine was generally from lower quality regions, such as the south of France; the men were not getting fine bottles of Bordeaux delivered to their trenches! The wine available to the troops was called “Pinard”, basically a cheap wine or as we would say in English, “plonk”. The Pinard rapidly carved its place in popular culture, with songs, cartoons and even being beatified with the name “Saint-Pinard”, on account of its ability to bless the soldiers
.
Like rum for the British, Pinard made its way into popular culture, with the soldiers’ song “Vive le pinard!”
On the roads of France and Navarre
The soldier sings while carrying his stuff
An authentic and bizarre song
Whose refrain is “Long live the pinard!”
One! Two !
Pinard is a cheap wine
It warms up wherever it goes
Go ahead, soldiers, fill my glass
Long live Pinard, long live Pinard! [8]
For more extreme situations, a stronger spirit, such as a cognac might be issued. This was generally doled out before an attack but might also appear in particularly poor weather conditions. On the 1st of January and Bastille day (14th July) additional wine and rations were provided. In 1916, the wine ration increased again to three-quarters of a litre as a part of the French Army’s attempts to keep morale together after the Verdun battles and the dangers of mutiny within the army.
Whilst the French army was enthusiastic in embracing its drink allowance, the American army was mostly “dry”, and their 1917 Army Manual made the official position abundantly clear. “Do not drink whisky or beer, especially in the field. It will weaken you and favor heat exhaustion, sunstroke, frostbite, and other serious troubles. Alcohol muddles the mind and clouds thoughts, and so causes a feeling of carelessness and silliness that may ruin some military plan, or give the whole thing away to the enemy and with it the lives of yourself and your comrades.” In the United States, the army had been protected from temptation by a five mile no alcohol limit around military bases, but in Europe General Pershing realised the futility of enforcing this (remember, they often fought alongside the French!), and relaxed the rule, allowing his men to partake light wine and beer, but not as a part of their rations.
Sticking with the Entente, the Italian Army was subject to harsh discipline and had only two outlets available to ease their existence; sex and alcohol, both of which were generally condoned, the former through provision of military brothels, the latter by provision of a quarter of a litre of wine per day. Brandy and Grappa were supplied on a less frequent basis, when morale or fighting spirit required it.
After the Battle of Caporetto in 1917, when the Italians were roundly defeated by the German and Austro-Hungarian army, the Italians lost around five million litres of wine and 1,600 litres of cognac; which must have been a significant blow to morale. However, in an unexpected silver lining, it appears that delays caused by German and Austro-Hungarian consumption of this exciting war-booty significantly slowed down exploitation of the Italian retreat!
The German alcohol ration varied depending on the origin of the units receiving it. Bavarian regiments, for example, tended toward beer, whilst units from wine-producing region would get wine. This must have complicated the supply situation, but probably reduced production issues, as there was no need to concentrate the industry on a particular product. German soldiers would, accordingly, receive a fourth of a litre of wine, half a litre of beer or 125 ml of schnapps or brandy. Austro-Hungarian soldiers tended to be given wine.
Whilst the flavours, strength and national culture might change across the belligerents, experiences tend not to. Ernst Jünger, in his memoir 'Storm of steel' recounted how, after taking heavy losses “the last two, as sure as death, were to be found on the first evening of rest over the bottle, drinking a silent health their dead 'companions'". He went on, explaining how they "drank heavily until... we treated the whole world as no more than a laughable phantom that circled around our table.”
Whether drunk to forget, to feel a little braver, because it was cold and miserable, to dull pain, or just because it was there, alcoholic drink clearly played its role in the Great War. Despite the views about its indispensability that were expressed by men and the officers, the predominantly “dry” American, Russian and Muslim countries show that it was perfectly possible to fight without institutionalised supply of alcohol to the armies in the field; in this respect the temperance-minded moral citizens who spoke out against the supply of alcohol were right. However, it seems to me, that if your army had a tradition of supplying alcohol in the field, it became an indispensable and essential part of the supply chain needed to keep the army fighting. Examples where alcohol rations were withheld, or when supplies were patchy, show that the men of the army felt entitled to the small crumb of comfort that their drink ration brought to their often difficult existence and this directly contributed to their morale. Whether it was alcohol, cigarettes, hot food, mail from home, leave, or simply rotation away from the front lines, no one factor was critical in maintaining morale. It was possible for any given army to have varying levels of provision of these various elements and still maintain morale, but should one of these elements that had been available be withdrawn, this was the point where morale was impacted, and woe betide any government that messed about needlessly with things their armies had grown accustomed to.
Cheers, santé, cin cin, şerefe, and prost to you all!
Bibliography
Forgotten voices of the great war - Max Arthur, Buy the book
Mick Mannock, Fighter Pilot: Myth, Life and politics. – Dr Adrian Smith Buy the Book
Passchendaele Requiem for doomed youth – Paul Ham. Buy the Book
Fighter Heroes Of WW1 - Joshua Levine. Buy the book
Robert Graves – From Great War poet to Good-bye to all that (1895-1929) – Jean Moorcraft Wilson. Buy the book
No empty chairs - Ian Mackersey Buy the book
National Archives – Pubs vs the First World War. Link
Western Front Association – Alcohol in the trenches. Link
Vive le Pinard lyrics - Link
Legion Magazine – Rum in the trenches. Link
Fighting on borrowed wings: The combat experience of Americans serving with French and British units during the First World War. Kylle Nelleson. Link
https://scholars.wlu.ca/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1083&context=cmh on remarkable, so read it
Touring behind the lines: British soldiers in French towns and cities during the Great War - KRISTA COWMAN - Urban History, Vol. 41, No. 1 (February 2014). Link
National Army Museum - Army Rum Jar exhibit. Link
Kings' regulations and orders for the army 1912, with amendments for 1914. Link
Picture credits
Imperial War Museum
Université de Caen Basse-Normandie
Fotografien von Peter Scherer, Stuttgart und Aalen 1974
http://digital.nls.uk/74546402
[1] Looking at you “Cooperative Inn” at Warwick Bridge
[2] A theme that continued when fighting on the Eastern Front came to an end; the first thing the Russian troops traded their rations for was booze.
[3] The French apparently had carried out similar experiments, but being French, had determined that whilst alcohol did affect military efficiency, wine had no effect.
[4] Calvados?
[5] The BEF Times was a successor title to The Wipers Times and incorporated that illustrious periodical.
[6] Think of it as a particularly violent version of leap-frog that became a part of RFC and, later, RAF culture. It was banned in 1950 when the RAF decided it had had enough of young men complaining about bad backs.
[7] “Poilu” is the French equivalent of the name “Tommy”; it literally mean “hairy”.
[8] And the original French version…
Sur les chemins de France et de Navarre
Le soldat chante en portant son bazar
Une chanson authentique et bizarre
Dont le refrain est "Vive le pinard !"
Un ! deux !
Le pinard c'est de la vinasse
Ça réchauffe là oùsque ça passe
Vas-y, Bidasse, remplis mon quart
Vive le pinard, vive le pinard !