offence and 5 shillings for the second, rising to a punitive 10 shillings if the offence had been committed within three months of a previous lapse.
On the continent men were paid in local currency, and although exchange rates varied, a franc was worth 10d in mid 1916, and there were twenty-five to the pound at the end of the war. Transactions were complicated by the fact that while
Banque de France
notes were good throughout the country, small-denomination notes issued locally were met with a curt
pas bon ici
outside their area of origin. In 1917 a Christmas turkey, at 3s 2d a pound, cost 30 shillings, arguably better value than an up-market Parisienne lady of the night who charged a subaltern £8 for the pleasure of her company, leaving him to muse on the cost of living â and the cheapness of death.
PROLOGUE: TOMMY ATKINS
In 1815 a War Office publication showing how the
Soldierâs Pocket Book
should be filled out gave as its example one Private Thomas Atkins, No. 6 Troop, 6th Dragoons. Atkins became a sergeant in the 1837 version, and was now able to sign his name rather than merely make his mark.
By the 1880s the expression âTommy Atkinsâ was in wide use to describe the prototypical British soldier, and Kiplingâs poem
Tommy
summed up the nationâs ambivalence about her defenders.
⦠Then itâs Tommy this, anâ Tommy that anâ âTommy, âowsâs your soul?â But itâs âThin red line of âeroesâ when the drums begin to roll â¦
⦠For itâs Tommy this anâ Tommy that, anâ âChuck him out, the brute!â But itâs âSaviour of âis countryâ When the guns begin to shoot; Anâ itâs Tommy this, anâ Tommy that, anâ anything you please; Anâ Tommy ainât a bloominâ fool â you bet that Tommy sees!
During the First World War the nickname was widespread, with derivatives like Tommy cooker, for a small trench stove, talking âTommyâ, to describe other rank repartee, or even âTommynessâ, to define certain attitudes and behaviour. When British and German soldiers yelled greetings or insults across No Manâs Land it was always âFritzâ and âTommyâ.
A corporal writing in 1914 caught the man in all his lights and shades: âSometimes Tommy is not a pleasant fellow, and I hated him that afternoon. One dead German had his pockets full of chocolate. They scrambled over him, pulling him about, until it was all divided.â An engineer officer saw a large Frenchwoman fall into a canal, to be tugged to the bank by âtwo tommiesâ who, in their eagerness to help, pulled her dress up over her head, demonstrating that knickers were not then universal in rural France. The expression was, of course, prohibited. A divisional commandersâ conference in October 1915 affirmed that: âThe use of the word âTommyâ to be absolutely barred. The term is never permitted in a good regiment.â
The order had as much effect as so many others, and the nickname persisted, sometimes as Tommy, sometimes as Atkins, and once, memorably, as âMr Atkins, gentlemanâ, used by an officer who saw soldiers helping refugees with gentleness and generosity. Nicknames are not always popular with their recipients, and such was the case with Tommy. Many soldiers felt patronised by it, and its English implication grated on Scots, Irishmen and Welshmen. But Sergeant Charles Arnold, himself a quintessential Tommy, declared that:
Tommy Atkins â full private â is, when all is said and done, the one who won the war. He won it by sheer dogged pluck â¦Â When is something going to be done for the man who isnât a general or a guardsman or an Anzac, nor even a London Scot but just a clodhopper from Suffolk, or Devon, or Durham â the man who obeyed orders and stuck it out? Of this man little was heard, possibly