Thousands rushed to sign up for service as war loomed
IN this series of columns constructing a history of Glasgow, we have now reached one of the most far-reaching convulsions in the city’s history, World War I.
Some people still call it the Great War, even though World War II saw many millions more killed than in the 1914-18 conflict. I prefer to use the term World War I, and no matter what you call it there is no doubt that the war monumentally changed Glasgow and Scotland forever.
In the years prior to the war, the process of societal change was under way as Glasgow became the fulcrum for political and industrial transformation in Scotland. The growth of trade unionism and progressive politics was already well under way by 1914, and from all my researches I can only conclude that World War I accelerated that process in Glasgow and on Clydeside generally.
I must mention one cause which had united Liberals and the growing Labour movement just prior to the war, and that was Home Rule for Scotland, with Glasgow again a centre of agitation for what would have been devolution 90 years before it happened.
As far back as 1894, Henry Dalziel, the Liberal MP for Kirkcaldy Burghs, had proposed Home Rule, putting this motion to the House of Commons: “That it is desirable, while retaining intact the power and supremacy of the Imperial Parliament, to establish a Legislature in Scotland for dealing with purely Scottish affairs.”
It got nowhere then, but in 1895, the Commons voted for a similar resolution: “That it is desirable to devolve upon Legislatures in Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and England, respectively, the management and control of their domestic affairs.” It was the first successful use of the word ‘devolve’ in Parliament.
Such was the clamour for Home Rule that by 1913, the Liberal Government of Prime Minister Herbert Asquith was itself proposing a Home Rule bill. This bill proposed by William Henry Cowan MP passed its second reading by 204 votes to 159, but did not proceed further due to the outbreak of war.
The internal politics of Glasgow, Scotland and the UK were effectively suspended when it became clear in the summer of 1914 that war was brewing. Indeed war had looked likely for some years as the six Great Powers – Britain, France, Russia, Italy, Germany, and Austria-Hungary – indulged in squabbles among themselves over issues in Europe and their various empires and colonies. Eventually, it was clear that there was a looming conflict between the alliance of Germany and Austria-Hungary – their ally Italy stayed neutral – against the Triple Entente of the UK, France and Russia.
Some politicians and monarchs intervened to try and stop war, but both Germany and Britain had long ago begun an arms race with Clydeside benefitting from several naval orders.
Russia was then still an empire under Czar Nicholas II, and backed Serbia’s demand for independence with particular emphasis on Serbian territories then held by the Austro-Hungarian empire.
On June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, and his wife Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg, were shot dead in the Bosnian capital Sarajevo by Serbian nationalists, led by teenage student Gavrilo Princip who fired the shots that killed both victims.
Ironically the Archduke had been a major promoter of peace between all the powers but as July wore on, the Central Powers of German and Austria-Hungary joined together with the latter declaring war on Serbia. That triggered Russia and France to mobilise their troops, followed by Germany.
No diplomatic negotiations were successful and on August 1, Germany declared war on Russia which refused to demobilise. France backed Russia so Germany declared war on France and invaded Belgium to gain access to France. Britain warned Germany to retreat out of Belgium and when Germany refused, Asquith’s Government declared war on August 4 ostensibly because of the 1839 Treaty of London which
The Highland Light Infantry, long recognised as Glasgow’s own regiment, had men queuing up to be recalled
guaranteed Belgian independence and its neutrality.
Kaiser Wilhelm, inset, was stunned because he had convinced himself Britain would not go to war on Belgium’s behalf over the sake of what he called “a scrap of paper.”
In truth, Asquith and his ministers were convinced Germany meant to crush France, and that would put an ambitious empire right across the Channel. The stage was thus set for the trench warfare on the Western Front.
The reaction to the declaration of war was almost feverish in the Second City of the Empire.
As news came in of little Belgium’s valiant but vain attempt to repel the invasion, thousands of Glaswegian men rushed to sign up for the services, especially the army.
It is a staggering fact that by the Armistice in 1918, half of all of Scotland male population between the ages of 18 and 45 had enlisted.
The first Glaswegians to be called up were the reservists and territorials.
The Highland Light Infantry, long recognised as Glasgow’s own regiment, had men queuing up to be recalled.
Eventually, over the course of the war, the HLI itself would raise a staggering 14 territorial battalions and 11 reserve and service battalions to add to their two regular battalions.
Though reservists and territorials were compelled to join up, at first there was no conscription – so many volunteers signed up, with recruiting halls besieged across Glasgow, that the new War Secretary, Field Marshal Lord Kitchener, devised a system of volunteer armies that had units often made up of volunteers from particular localities or workplaces – the ‘Pals Battalions’ as they became known.
It all happened so quickly. The Cameron Highlanders were among the first troops to embark for the Continent as part of the British Expeditionary Force and they took part in the first encounter between British and German troops at the Battle of Mons which began on August 25.
Meanwhile, in Glasgow the recruitment process was well under way. The 500 reservists in the Glasgow tram service were called up just two days after the declaration of war.
The notice to them stated: “We are sorry that circumstances have arisen under which you have had to change your uniform this morning.”
It was a neat line in irony, and Glasgow would need a lot of its traditional humour over the next four years.