The impact of this mass departure on the Island as a whole was mainly an economic one. At a stroke, the farming industry - the mainstay of Island business - was deprived of over two thousand of its key workers, and the effects of this were to rumble on throughout the war. Although the farmers got by, and indeed actually managed to increase yield, they continuously cited the loss of imported labour as being one of the reasons why their sons should remain on the Island rather than join the forces. This kindled a sense of injustice: why should the town dwellers be forced to carry the burden of war whilst the farmers got rich on the proceeds? As the years passed, and the demand for manpower increased, the arguments became more divisive. "Take a bike and ride round the country, you will never credit that Jersey has conscription." one commentator remarked scathingly in August 1917: "Any Saturday afternoon you will meet dozens of young men in civilian clothes airing themselves…" In defence of their position, farmer after farmer appeared in front of the military exemptions tribunals in 1917 and 1918, claiming that without the help of their families, they would be unable to meet the quotas placed on them. Looking back now, it is obvious that the truth of the matter probably lies somewhere in between the two camp's views, and it was the Island overall that suffered due to the missing labour.

The impact on the Island's French community was, of course, far more profound. A memorial established in the French Consulate after the war was inscribed with the names of 165 Frenchmen from Jersey who fell "Pour La Patrie". It is however possible that figure is too low. During the war the French nation suffered sixteen percent of the men mobilised killed, and a further thirty-seven percent wounded. Applying these percentages to the figure of 2,450 suggests that as many as 400 men from Jersey could have lost their lives, whilst a further 900 would have been wounded. Whatever the final figure, it would have been a truly terrible toll.

Of course, these are just cold figures on a page. Who now can know the anguish and suffering behind each percent? An anecdotal account of what it might have meant to the families left behind in Jersey was provided by 101 year old "Pop" Newman , who has lived for virtually his whole long life in Jersey's St Brelade's Bay. When talking about the Island in the First World War, he recalled slowly, but lucidly, that an old French couple had lived a few doors away from him at the time, in a farm house that later became the Le Marquanderie Pub. They only had one son, who had gone off to fight in the French Army. One day a letter arrived, but because they couldn't read, they asked young Newman to tell them what it said. It contained the news that their son had been killed in action; but he shied away from telling them, saying instead that their son had been wounded. Leaving them upset, but at least relieved their son was alive, he made his excuses and left. Later, the couple asked someone else to read the letter to them, and the awful truth was revealed. "Pop" Newman didn't say what they thought of him for trying to cover up; but he did recall that within a month, both of the parents had themselves passed away. It was his view that they had died of broken hearts.

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© Ian Ronayne 2006

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