Who does not remember the terrible rush for the last drop of drink when
Prohibition seemed to be coming with the New Year? Long queues of women
besieged the whisky shops in Glasgow. There were women of all ages, said
the _Daily Mail_, tottering in grey hairs, young wives with babies in
their arms, and men of the loafer type. “There was not a respectable
citizen,” says the _Mail_, “who did not deplore this discreditable
scene, but the remarks of passers-by provoked only torrents of insult.”
The promise of the new year and the new Government, alas, was not
fulfilled, and now in place of Drink Queues we have Food Queues. Let us
see what drink is doing among our soldiers’ wives:
Of 3000 soldiers’ wives being cared for in South London, 2000 are
splendid, while 1000 are sinking daily to lower and lower levels
through drink.
_Records of Shaftesbury Society_
A soldier’s wife, with a separation allowance of 32_s._ 6_d._ a
week, drank most of it away, ruined her home, neglected her
children, and became a lunatic.
_Records of Claybury Asylum_
A young soldier’s wife, hitherto “quite an elegant type,” is rapidly
becoming a drunkard. Women hitherto sober have not the courage to
keep from women’s drinking parties, and young girls come out of
factories and go to publichouses in little groups.
_Records of Charity Organisation Society_
Outside a public house in Dublin 15 small children were crying in
the cold, waiting for their mothers. Ninety-four drunken women came
out in 25 minutes. There were ten drunken soldiers, and two girls of
15 were thrown into the street hopelessly drunk.
_Facts in “Irish Times,” April 20, 1915_
In Dundee over 170 wives of soldiers gave way to drink last year,
and cruelly neglected their homes.
_Records of the N. S. P. C. C._
A soldier in the trenches received a letter from his little boy,
which he sent to London with a pitiful appeal for help.
“Kindly do what you can for me and the well-being and welfare of my
four beautiful children,” the poor soldier wrote. “I am enclosing a
fearful letter I have received from my poor little lad, 14-1/2, the
first and only letter I have received from him. Sir, I shall be most
anxiously awaiting your reply, for this letter is the greatest blow
I have ever received.”
This is the little boy’s letter:
Dear Dad: Just a line to let you know how everything is at home.
Mother is drunk for a fortnight and sober for a week for months
and months. I’ve stuck it now for seven months, and can’t stick
it any longer. I tried to get into the Navy and passed all the
tests, but mother would not sign the papers, for which I am
sorry. If mum would sign I could go away to Portsmouth on
Thursday, but she will not. At the present moment she is half
drunk and keeps jawing me so that I could knife meself. I’ve
lost my new job because mum would not wake me in the morning,
and nothing for breakfast, and had to get mine and the
children’s tea at tea-time. It pains me to write like this, but
I can’t help it. I now seek your advice as to what to do. I hope
_you_ will enjoy Xmas, although there is not much hope for us. I
now conclude with fondest love, X. Your heartbroken Son, Leslie.
A stream of nearly 15,000 men and women poured into 58 publichouses
in Birmingham in less than four hours; over 6,000 were women. Into
one house the people streamed at nearly 500 an hour.
_Facts in “Review of Reviews,” October 1915_
For months some wives of soldiers and sailors in Scotland were never
really sober. “We have done our best,” says a worker among them,
“going to their homes and doing all in our power, but it beats us.”
In 23 families, with 178 children born, 61 were dead.
_Facts told to Secretary for Scotland, July 1916_