Love In Every Stitch

Knitskrieg: A Call to Yarn! A History of Military Knitting from the 1800s to the Present DayBy Joyce MeaderUniform Publishing Group, 2016Joyce Meader’s fascinating exploration of military knitting starts just prior to the Crimean War in the early 1850s and meanders (and occasionally careens) through the key military conflicts of the 19th, 20th, and 21st centuries, including the American Civil War, the Boer War, World Wars 1 and 2, and then just barely touching on Korea, Rhodesia, the Falklands, and the more recent Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts. The book is driven by Meader’s British perspective, personal interests, and collection of historical knitting artifacts, rather than by a sense of historical completeness; it pinballs between events, patterns, books, pictures, music, and descriptions of specific knitwear ranging from the ubiquitous socks to machine gun covers and stump warmers, created by personalities ranging from Boy Scout troops to actresses, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts, and even Queen Victoria herself.A delightful hodgepodge of information, artifact, propaganda and personality, Knitskrieg! A Call to Yarns: A History of Military Knitting from the 1800s to the Present Day manages to transcend poor organization, unnecessary repetition, and incompetent copy editing though sheer force of personality. Ultimately, the book is held together by the tension between necessity and love, as it examines the challenges of expense, shortages and human weariness, all in the face of increasingly rapacious military need. As the Monarch Knitting Company of Dunnville told Canadian women in 1941, hand knitting for the troops represented:

virtually the complete mobilization of woman-power to the end that peace may come more quickly... Hand knitting is an opportunity to express, in tangible form, care and affection for those who are dear.

Prior to the Industrial Revolution, although some knitting was done at home, knitting guilds were exclusively the province of men. By the 1590s, there were influential knitting guilds all over Europe. Master Knitters were exclusively male and were considered to be bona fide Master Craftsmen. But by the early 1700s, knitting guilds were gutted by industrialization and knitting went back to being a cottage industry; the Master Knitters went from being men who set prices and worked trade deals to women who supported their families by knitting lace at home.One thing both the guilds and lace knitters had in common was that aspiring knitters learned how to knit as well as how to make specific knitted items by training with someone who already knew how to make them. Meader picks up the history of knitting at this point, in the 1850s and the Crimean War, when the first known book of patterns in English was written by the very prolific (and, despite her name, English) Mademoiselle Riego de la Branchardière and published by Simkin, Marshall, and Company. Comforts for the Crimea offered women of means like Lady Charlotte Bridgeman of Weston Park an opportunity to address the terrible conditions suffered by soldiers in the Crimea and their increasingly desperate need for warm clothing. Bridgeman wrote in her journal:

We are all better with the desire to do something for the poor soldiers in the Crimea & hearing that Lord Wilton, Lord Ellesmere & some others are fitting out a yacht with warm clothing & other comforts, which is to start in a fortnight, we have all frantically begun knitting muffetees & comforters, have written to ask several people to do the same & Lady B. has been buying flannel for the school to make up & stockings to be knitted.

The pattern books were expensive at one shilling or more, so they were typically purchased by women who had both money and leisure to knit. One of the challenges posed by war was that the need for knitted “comforts” outstripped the capacity of the leisured classes and the need quickly arose to get people of all classes knitting. Meader discusses the American Civil War with considerable enthusiasm, despite its being a bit of an outlier in her otherwise Britain-focussed discussion. During the American Civil War of 1861 it became evident that

hand knitted garments were more highly sought after than the inferior machine knitted versions of say socks or stockings, as the [former] survived the rigors of long marches and infrequent washing.

The desire for hand-knitted wool clothing led to the “call for hand-knitted socks” to be spread independently throughout the Union and Confederacy. At this point, knitting was not exclusively the purview of either men or women. Meader asks us to consider that since nearly half of the nation's young men volunteered or were conscripted into military service,

it is not surprising the womenfolk back at home felt compelled to play their part. As they heard harrowing stories of their men marching barefoot or suffering from blistered, swollen and infected feet from wearing boots without stockings, they were spurred to take up their knitting needles.

Women took up knitting for the troops, some personally creating hundreds knitted garments. And not just women were encouraged to knit; even “children as young as three were encouraged to do it and many were made to knit 3 inches in length on the socks before they were allowed out to play.”Although published patterns existed, a particular difficulty with getting everybody knitting is that the patterns published in the nineteenth century did not provide what we (or indeed anyone) consider all the necessary information and instructions —so the knitter had to come to the pattern already knowing what to do. The tradition of learning from an expert continued as classes were held for women who did not already know how to knit or make socks.Meader comes back again and again to wool shortages and how they were managed. She is clearly fascinated by the subject and despite some problems with repetition in the organization of the topic across multiple wars, she is able to pass on that fascination to the reader. Once there were enough knitters, the next obstacle to sending soldiers good hand-knitted clothing was the short supply of wool and other knitting supplies. Governments only wanted knitted goods made with high quality yarn, so all wool and good quality cotton knits went to the military. Knitwear to be used at home was knitted from coarse home-spun cotton that was often mixed with rabbit fur or cow hair.As wars continued, both patriotic fervor and the need for knitted clothing increased—and in a strange way, came to be regarded as almost the same thing. Concurrently, the availability of raw materials decreased. Access to materials became increasingly more centralized, and women were expected to do more and more knitting. During the American Civil War,

as long as yarn was available, women would knit, and for all classes it became more than just a pastime. Ladies associations were formed, with some suggesting that each member should be expected to knit at least six pairs of socks during a six-month period to keep their membership valid. Schools also added knitting to their curricul[ae] and at one Tennessee women's college, the principal requested that the girls be given an hour a day to knit socks for soldiers. The patriotic knitting fervor had really taken off, and girls, some under the age of 12, started to form their own clubs. Papers throughout the South constantly reminded women ‘that it was their patriotic duty to knit for the soldiers and their knitting needles were the only thing standing between soldiers and the cold.’

Despite the fashion for knitting in the 19th century, it wasn't until World War I that the “woman's work” of knitting came into its own as a necessary part of nationwide mobilisations. London’s leading fashion magazine of the day, The Ladies’ World, announced:

When our troops marched away into the unknown, with banners waving and flags flying, they were furnished by the girls left behind them with an abundant supply of woolen garments of all descriptions. The heroes that come back wounded can also be served by us with needles, knitting pins, and crochet hooks that ply busily for their benefit.

By World War II, Britain was experienced with wartime knitting mobilizations and the issues created by wool shortages. According to textile historian Karen Ballard, “Britain discreetly asked the U.S. to store the entire 1940 Australian wool clip, a critical war material... Although knitters were still encouraged to conserve wool, this agreement prevented wool shortages from developing during WWII, like those that had occurred during WWI.” Meader provides fascinating images from her collection of historical knitting artifacts and patterns that make it easy to imagine picking up the needles and casting on a sweater or sock for “our boys” at the front with wool provided by the local Comfort Association.Shortages caused knitting to become a highly organized affair, mainly controlled by Comfort Associations that raised funds to supply patterns, supplies and yarns, and arranged meetings for knitters to have some social contact while their men were away at war. These associations “industrialized” home knitting and their members produced hundreds of thousands of pairs of socks, as well as sweaters, scarves, hats, bandages and warmers of all types. But many women still wanted to knit specifically for their loved ones. It wasn't easy to function as an independent knitter:

If a woman wished to knit for loved one or a member of her family without being in a comfort group, she would have to prove to the Board of Trade that she was knitting for a serviceman. Once she had proved this she would be issued with a chit that allowed her to obtain wool without using any of her clothing coupons. The wool would be weighed as it was given to her and weighed again when she returned the knitted garment. This was to prove that it had been made by the wool provided and if there was any yarn left over it would be taken back for future use.

It wasn't just servicemen (and eventually service women) at the front who required knitwear. Hospital comforts were also in great demand:

Operation stockings, hot water bottle covers, arm warmers, stump warmers and jumpers for men to wear in bed were all invaluable items. Some of these jumpers had gaps in the front, and the back would be longer than the front of the garment. This meant that a wound dressing could be changed without the men having to take off their clothing which help in keeping them warm.

Pattern books continued to be expensive, but by World War II, instructions were much more useful than in previous wars, and knitwear could actually be made from a pattern without consulting a more expert knitter. Groups of women would club together to buy a pattern and then write out multiple copies of it. Businesses often sponsored patterns as well. In a nod to commonwealth participation in WW2, Meader shares her copy of the Lux Knitting Book. In Canada, Lux Soap ran a promotion where you could trade box tops for pattern booklets.Called by necessity, women knitted like crazy. But it wasn't just necessity that made knitting so important and popular. As anyone who knits knows well, the work of your hands isn't simply just manufactory. There's an emotional component to it:

Not only were the items sent to the front offering physical comfort to our boys they also played an important role in keeping up their morale, knowing that the item they were wearing had been lovingly made by either their mother, sister, sweetheart, grandma. Basically they were sending them a message of love in every stitch.

The problem with sending a “message of love with every stitch” is that knitters themselves eventually become a production problem as more and more young men were killed or injured and their families lost heart.Morale of both soldiers and families is one key to military success. The British Royal family was an important symbol, and their actions inspired both the military and the general populace. During the Boer War, Queen Victoria

wished to honor the bravery of soldiers fighting in the Boer War. She wanted to let them know she was thinking about them and to send a token of her own respect. For this reason she knitted scarves in khaki-colored Berlin wool and put the initials ‘V.R.I.’ on one of the knots. However, to earn one of these prestigious scarves, the recipient need[ed] to be ‘the best all-round man taking part in the South African campaign.’ This accolade could only be achieved if the individual soldier was voted for by [h]is comrades as being the most brave. Four of Queen Victoria's scarves went to British units and one to each Empire (commonwealth) country who had sent troops to the conflict.

During World War I, Queen Mary actively inspired thousands of knitters by taking on promotion of knitting for the troops as her personal project. She was commissioned by Lord Kitchener to provide 30,000 pairs of wool socks for the troops. With royalty involved, “Ladies from all classes … joined in and knitted socks by the dozen... Even the Archbishop of Canterbury offered dispensation to allow women to knit during Sunday morning sermon at church.”Knitter morale was also positively affected by different types of propaganda. Propaganda delivered through the arts promoted knitting as an act of patriotism to encourage the knitters to keep on knitting despite personal losses:

A lot of sheet music was published to encourage women to knit and also to help prevent a spell of the doldrums. In the United States there was Irving Berlin and Glenn Miller, while over here there was Arthur Askey and “I’m a Little Knit Wit” and “Knitting”... When women gathered in groups to knit they would often have someone read during the sessions that could be a story an article from a newspaper or lesson from the Bible. There were also songs written about knitting and if you had a piano everyone would sing along. As these were the days before television or radio it was down to the individual to make their own entertainment.

Ultimately, as long as there was wool to knit with, home knitters found the fortitude to continue to knit and to continue to send knitted goods to soldiers on the front lines and in hospital. Moving into more current conflicts, Meader at first appears to abandon her previous themes. She shifts gears with two very short chapters; one discussing in the role of the Red Cross in organizing knitters for conflicts in Korea, Rhodesia and the Falklands and the second profiling soldiers currently knitting and crocheting for themselves in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as knit-for-the-military projects like the Ships Project founded by Ellen Harpin. She also offers a range of modernized patterns. Making sense of antique patterns for a modern reader is one area where Meader really shines. As a historical re-enactor and a well-known supplier of reproduction knitwear to museums, television and films, she very competently draws on her experience to provide clear instructions that any modern knitter can follow. The patterns that she chooses to share are strikingly and appropriately utilitarian for wartime, but at the same time disappointing to a modern knitter who enjoys knitting as an artistic challenge as well as a practical one. The provided patterns address Meader’s passion for authentic military knitwear, but may be less appealing to the more general knitter who has no need for a stump warmer, or who has the choice to create more fashionable and colourful sweaters and scarves for everyday wear.The final section of Knitskrieg addresses the role of knitting in peace activism. Although this section is clearly outside Meader’s main interests, it does bring the discussion back to the roles of love and necessity in military knitting. Yarnstorming, for instance,

is the art of enhancing a public place or object with graffiti knitting. Most yarn stormers meet in secret and, although they liv[e] ordinary lives as everyday people, they usually meet and knit under assumed names.

Yarnstorming can send extremely strong anti-war messages and Meader once again picks up the threads of the tension between love and necessity. In yarnstorms, as well as other protest knitting, the symbolism of “knitting as love” continues to contrast with necessity - in this case, the love of humankind, and the necessity of ending wars and our ultimate hope for peace.For a reader who both values peace over war, and who is fascinated by knitting and the place of women’s handcrafts in historical contexts, A Call to Yarns falls into a problematic intellectual space. On one hand, the book is filled with absolutely fascinating stories, people, artifacts and research, and it fills a needed niche as it privileges and deeply explores women’s contributions to various war efforts as providers of uniquely female “familial-industrial” artifacts (rather than industrial artifacts alone). On the other hand, Meader’s enthusiasm for war (and war re-enactment) glorifies and romanticises rather than questions these deadly and often unnecessary conflicts. The tacked-on short chapter about peace activism in knitting doesn’t do enough to counter this impression. Nevertheless, despite these and other problems, A Call to Yarns is a captivating read that will surprise and interest an unexpectedly wide audience.____Candace Bamber is a secondary teacher and avid knitter in Toronto, Ontario.