Tucked away in the parish magazine for October 1917 is a letter from an A.P. Coleman recovering in the Red Cross hospital in the former Sunday school of the Methodist church on Manchester Road. It was one of a number he wrote thanking the people of Chorlton which in this case was for “the fruit, vegetables and flowers to us here, .....who are strangers in this district.”
And in its way it reinforces both the degree to which this war was supported by the voluntary efforts of people in the community and its impact on the civilian population.
It is hard today to appreciate just how far the war insinuated itself into the community. The daily war news and the lists of casualties, rationing and the increasing role of women in occupations previously held by men kept the war in focus. I guess there would have been fewer men of service age around the village and in the roads of new Chorlton. But there were those young men and women who had trained in the Voluntary Aid Detachment and worked in the hospital that went on to join the Royal Army Medical Corps and the eleven male orderlies who likewise enrolled with the R.A.M.C.
There would also be the presence of the wounded around the area. 137 men recovered in the Baptist hospital on Edge Lane during November 1914 and August 1915. Of these 117 wee British, one was Canadian and another Australian and there were also 18 Belgians. They had arrived from main line hospitals and had been wounded in France Belgium and Gallipoli, although 13 had been injured or contracted an illness at home. Most were suffering from bullet or shrapnel wounds, but had been gassed, or suffered from frostbite, tetanus, or rheumatism.
These men must have been a familiar sight in the roads and lanes of Chorlton. Most were here for about two months and in that time they may have taken to walking the fields, and relaxing in what was still partly a rural community. I had thought to include drinking in the local pubs and beer shops, but this may not have been the case. It was the practice in military hospitals at least to issue recovering soldiers with ”Hospital Blues,” which were standard issue and consisted of blue jacket and trousers, white shirt, and red tie and “was partly designed to identify the men if they left the hospital and stop them getting served in pubs.” But ours was a Red Cross Hospital and the regime was less rigid.
Never the less for most of community it must have been odd to hear our own regional accents mixed with those from Australia, Canada and Belgium. And for some who worked as volunteers it was a reminder of the greater sacrifice their family had made.
Emma Worlidge was on the hospital committee, and acted as the housekeeper. Later after the war she would be recognised for her work but in the February 1917 she had to cope with the loss of her son Oswald who died on the Western Front. In the same month the Ellwood family lost their son.
Picture, Rgina Trench Cemetery, Grandcourt, Northern France where Oswald Worlidge is buried.
And in its way it reinforces both the degree to which this war was supported by the voluntary efforts of people in the community and its impact on the civilian population.
It is hard today to appreciate just how far the war insinuated itself into the community. The daily war news and the lists of casualties, rationing and the increasing role of women in occupations previously held by men kept the war in focus. I guess there would have been fewer men of service age around the village and in the roads of new Chorlton. But there were those young men and women who had trained in the Voluntary Aid Detachment and worked in the hospital that went on to join the Royal Army Medical Corps and the eleven male orderlies who likewise enrolled with the R.A.M.C.
There would also be the presence of the wounded around the area. 137 men recovered in the Baptist hospital on Edge Lane during November 1914 and August 1915. Of these 117 wee British, one was Canadian and another Australian and there were also 18 Belgians. They had arrived from main line hospitals and had been wounded in France Belgium and Gallipoli, although 13 had been injured or contracted an illness at home. Most were suffering from bullet or shrapnel wounds, but had been gassed, or suffered from frostbite, tetanus, or rheumatism.
These men must have been a familiar sight in the roads and lanes of Chorlton. Most were here for about two months and in that time they may have taken to walking the fields, and relaxing in what was still partly a rural community. I had thought to include drinking in the local pubs and beer shops, but this may not have been the case. It was the practice in military hospitals at least to issue recovering soldiers with ”Hospital Blues,” which were standard issue and consisted of blue jacket and trousers, white shirt, and red tie and “was partly designed to identify the men if they left the hospital and stop them getting served in pubs.” But ours was a Red Cross Hospital and the regime was less rigid.
Never the less for most of community it must have been odd to hear our own regional accents mixed with those from Australia, Canada and Belgium. And for some who worked as volunteers it was a reminder of the greater sacrifice their family had made.
Emma Worlidge was on the hospital committee, and acted as the housekeeper. Later after the war she would be recognised for her work but in the February 1917 she had to cope with the loss of her son Oswald who died on the Western Front. In the same month the Ellwood family lost their son.
Picture, Rgina Trench Cemetery, Grandcourt, Northern France where Oswald Worlidge is buried.
No comments:
Post a Comment