The Aldershot command appealed for the closing of half the publichouses, to save the men from temptation when the troops are demobilised and return with their pockets full of money.
Record of Workingham Licensing Sessions, 1917
The Army and Navy Gazette, in an article disapproving of the Prohibition Campaign, issues a terrible warning which should be printed on the door of the room in which the Army Council meets. These are its words:
“It is on record that towards the end of the siege of Sebastopol rum was made too regular an issue, with the result that almost every soldier who survived to return home became a drunkard.”
The siege of Sebastopol lasted less than a year, and that is the work of the rum issue for a few months. If rum does that in months, what will it do in years?
Into the Firing Line
Lord Kitchener is dead, but there are two things that are with us still—that rare little note that he gave to his men as they went out, warning them of drink; and that infamous note sent out by a drink firm in London, begging our people to send out drink to our men. They can guarantee it right up to the firing line, they say, and even when our shells could not get there through drink, drink seems to have found its way. It can get on to transports when the Ministry of Munitions is waiting urgently for shipping space; it can commandeer our vans and horses and trains when these mean life or death to us; it seems to get past any regulation; it goes about with the power of a king, doing its work where it will.
It is regrettable that our troops at the Front cannot get more British Beer.
Managing Director of Allsopps, July 14, 1916