The scale of World War One posed a massive challenge to the relatively small British Army. Initially Lord Kitchener avoided introducing conscription by inviting men to volunteer with their friends, family and colleagues to form the Pals Battalions.

Over by Christmas
Britain declared war against Germany on 4 August. At that point Britain’s professional army was badly equipped and minuscule in comparison to the conscript-heavy standing armies on the continent. It comprised just 450,000 men - including only around 900 trained staff officers - and some 250,000 reservists.

This posed a problem. While many famously expected the war to be 'over by Christmas', Lord Kitchener, the newly appointed Secretary of State for War, was unconvinced.
With conscription politically unpalatable, Kitchener decided to raise a new army of volunteers. On 6 August, Parliament agreed to an increase in Army strength of 500,000 men; days later Kitchener issued his first call to arms. This was for 100,000 volunteers, aged between 19 and 30, at least 1.6m (5'3") tall and with a chest size greater than 86cm (34 inches).

The call to arms was added to by the decision to form the units that became known as Pals Battalions. General Henry Rawlinson initially suggested that men would be more willing to join up if they could serve with people they already knew. Lord Derby was the first to test the idea when he announced in late August that he would try to raise a battalion in Liverpool, comprised solely of local men. Within days, Liverpool had enlisted enough men to form four battalions.

Civic pride
Liverpool's success prompted other towns and cities to follow suit. This was the great secret behind the Pals: civic pride and community spirit prompted cities to compete with each other and attract the greatest possible number of new recruits.

This boosted the patriotism that saw men queuing outside enlisting posts within hours of war being declared. The Times reported that it took the recruiting officer at Great Scotland Yard 20 minutes to get through the waiting crowds on 4 August; by 7 August mounted police were necessary to keep control.

Recruits marching to Waterloo Station

In Accrington, recruitment began on 14 September, with 104 men accepted for service in the first three hours. Brothers, cousins, friends and workmates enlisted together and within ten days the Accrington Pals had reached full strength of some 1,000 men. The situation in Sheffield was similar. Doors opened on 10 September and the new battalion reached full strength in only two days. The Sheffield volunteers, like so many others, were a cross-section of society, including stockbrokers, students, journalists, clerks, teachers and shop assistants.

Battalions such as the Hull Commercials shared an occupation; others, like the Glasgow Tramways Battalion, shared an employer; the Tyneside Irish had a common background. While the name Pals was usually reserved for battalions raised in the North, the same phenomenon was occurring throughout the country. In East Grinstead a sportsman's battalion was raised, including two famous cricketers and the England lightweight boxing champion; London formed a footballers' battalion and there were also units comprised of artists and even public schoolboys.

A break from the grind
The scale of the response was astounding, with around 30,000 men enlisting every day by the end of August. These numbers were too many for the army to handle alone; in the short term, local dignitaries and magistrates acted on behalf of Lord Kitchener and organised, drilled and fed the men until the military machine was ready to take over. By mid-September, 500,000 men had volunteered; another 500,000 had joined them by the end of the year.

Why were so many so keen to join? The year 1914 witnessed a rush of patriotic optimism nationwide, fuelled further by tales of (invariably fictitious) German atrocities that led to a common desire to help 'plucky little Belgium'. Most people believed that, even if the war would not be over by Christmas, it would nonetheless be relatively short. Consequently, army service promised opportunities, excitement and travel denied to most Britons of the time.

Furthermore, for many in the industrial heartlands of the North - as in Scotland, Wales and Ireland - the army promised a break from the grinding poverty of everyday life. Army life meant regular pay (one shilling a day for privates) as well as proper food and clothing, not to mention barracks that would have compared favourably with the living conditions experienced by many at the time.

To many, the army must have seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime and areas dominated by heavy industry and mining provided a disproportionate number of recruits. Recruitment continued throughout 1915, bolstered by immense social and peer pressure that partly replaced the early enthusiasm.

Recruitment poster

Tragedy on the Somme  
Once they had been formed, most Pals Battalions spent 1914 and 1915 training in Britain. But preparations were under way for a major offensive on the Somme that was intended to relieve the pressure on the French at Verdun, breach German lines and force an early victory. The offensive would take place over about 30km (20 miles) and would be the first major battle for most volunteers.

For many it would also be their last. The first day of the Somme was disastrous. The preceding artillery barrage had failed to destroy the heavily fortified German trenches and, in many cases, had not even cut their barbed wire defences. Military commanders, concerned with maintaining discipline in their new volunteer army, instructed them to walk in formation towards German lines when the attack began.

In the event, the British army walked into a slaughterhouse. The battle on 1 July marked the army's greatest single loss in its history, with 60,000 casualties, of which 20,000 were dead. The Pals Battalions suffered accordingly: of the 720 Accrington Pals who participated, 584 were killed, wounded or missing in the attack. The Leeds Pals lost around 750 of the 900 participants and both the Grimsby Chums and the Sheffield City Battalion lost around half of their men.

Soldiers at the battle of the Somme

After early optimism, news of the scale of the losses broke slowly, often only once letters from surviving officers and comrades reached the families of the dead. Casualty lists only began to reach Grimsby on 10 July and, in many towns and cities, confused rumours bred panic and anger in the affected communities. In the Accrington Observer and Times, initial accounts of success quickly gave way to pages filled with names and photographs of those killed, missing and wounded. Percy Holmes, the brother of a Pal, recalled: 'I remember when the news came through to Accrington that the Pals had been wiped out. I don't think there was a street in Accrington and district that didn't have their blinds drawn, and the bell at Christ Church tolled all the day.' Few homes remained untouched: an epidemic of grief swamped the country.

Two years in the making, ten minutes in the destroying
The Pals Battalions survived the Somme in name only. Some, like the Sheffield Pals, were disbanded altogether before the war ended. Although by early 1916 around two million men had enlisted voluntarily, enthusiasm diminished as casualties increased, and conscription was introduced in
March.

The Hull Pals marching back from the front line, smiling for the official photographer