‘Manchester’s army is Manchester.’
‘Germans machine gun 450 civilians in the village of Tamines!’
‘Child raped and murdered in front of her parents’
‘Germans hang priests.’
FROM THE OPENING days of the war the government doled out so little war news that Manchester newspapers latched onto these and other atrocity stories of fleeing refugees in a desperate attempt to get news of the conflict. But, as the weeks passed, the newspapers made it clear there was no sign of an early end to the war and thus helped the population to come to terms with the prospect of a lengthy conflict that would encroach more and more on the lives of civilians.
Anti-German feelings in Manchester were further aroused in October 1914 with the arrival of fifty Belgian refugees, who were housed in Longford Hall, Stretford. ‘Simple, inoffensive peasant folks, each carrying all his worldly possessions in a small bundle to which he clung tenaciously’, their appearance aroused the compassion of the crowds who greeted them at Exchange Station. One spectator elicited a loud cheer when he called out, ‘Bravo les Belges!’. By August 1915 there were 3,000 in the city and Manchester took them to its heart. Mr H. M. Worthington put Sale Hall at their disposal as accommodation and a local fund-raising committee collected over £14,000 through donation boxes on the trams. In addition, the Manchester branch of the Serbian Relief Fund raised £6,700.
Belgian refugees were not the only ones who brought the realities of war to the city. Though Manchester was not a conventional port, it was not long before the predations of the war at sea struck the city. A German U-Boat sank the Manchester Commerce in the North Channel the day after it left Manchester on 25 October 1914, with the loss of fourteen crew. On 2 March 1915 the city celebrated a naval triumph: John William Ball, captain of the steamer Thordis, out of Manchester, rammed and sank a German U-boat in the English Channel – the first occasion a merchantman had sunk an enemy submarine. The crew won not only the acclaim of the nation but were also entitled to a reward of £1,000 from the government, £500 from a shipping newspaper and several smaller prizes. Later that month the Captain, now a lieutenant of the Naval Reserve and proudly displaying his DSC, was the guest of honour at the Manchester Rotary Club, where he recounted his exploits.
The war at sea was also a major factor in turning the people against the beleaguered foreigners in their midst. On the outbreak of war the Chief Constable, Robert Peacock, announced that every ‘alien enemy’—German and Austrian – must register forthwith at the Town Hall or face ‘severe penalties’. They must not change their address or employment or travel more than five miles from home without his permission. Nor were they allowed to own petrol or pigeons. This had a significant impact as Manchester was, outside London, the chief centre in England for continental immigrants, with over 2,000 Germans living in the city and several hundred in Salford, working mainly as pork butchers, waiters, barbers, hoteliers and musicians. There were also a number of Hungarians and 3,000 Turks, almost all men involved in the shipping business; practically every important commercial business in England had a branch in Manchester. Turks were not required to register as aliens until November when their worst fears were realised and Britain declared war on their country.
In early September 1914 Germans of military age were arrested, many taken from their homes at the dead of night. By 11 September 1914, 300 had been arrested, with a view to exchanging them for Britons in enemy hands. One German, Max Shoeke, unwisely concealed unregistered firearms in his Old Trafford home and was consequently sentenced to two months’ hard labour.
It was the following month that Manchester’s aliens felt the full effects of the war. Between 21 and 23 October, 600 men between the ages of 17 and 45, were arrested. Housed in police cells overnight, they were then ferried in chains to Exchange Station on their way to Lancaster. Though spectators at the station generally expressed approval, some were moved by the tearful separations they saw. One commented, ‘You don’t like to see a young woman crying’, but then added, ‘Think of the British mothers, wives and sisters whose young ones have been killed.’ The English wives and children of many of those interned had no means of support and found themselves plunged into hardship and in some cases destitution, while their men folk spent the bulk of the war in Knockaloe Camp on the Isle of Man.
The great bulk of aliens, however, including those with children in the British forces, were deemed harmless and allowed to remain at liberty or, if they chose, return to Germany.
The city’s Greeks were in a precarious position as Greece remained neutral until 1917. On 10 March, a meeting of Manchester Greeks at the Midland Hotel sent a telegram to the Greek President urging ‘immediate armed co-operation with the Allies’.
So far, so cordial. Then a series of events in 1915 made aliens the object of intense hatred. High among these were German attacks on civilians in the south and east of England. Though Manchester was untouched by Zeppelin raids, they nevertheless had a profound effect on the city, providing incontrovertible proof that the Germans were barbarians who murdered women and children without compunction. The air raids created a pervasive sense of vulnerability far beyond their capacity to inflict damage.
Though the first attack on British soil took place in November 1914 it was not until 16 December, with the naval bombardment of Hartlepool, that Britain suffered her first civilian casualties. The 150 shells that rained down on the coastal town, killing ninety-seven men, women and children and maiming 466, attracted enormous coverage in the Manchester newspapers and signalled the end of any illusion that civilians had about being immune from sudden death by enemy action.