Coveted Belongings and Clothing

Unless otherwise bequeathed, the belongings of the dead (civilian and military alike) were auctioned off. There were numerous such auctions, giving some idea as to what items still had value in a time when money and possessions were otherwise worthless. At the auction of Henry Lawrence’s goods, wine and brandy fetched unbelievable prices (in today’s money, for example, £6 would translate to £66) from £14 to £16 for a dozen bottles, beer from £6 to£7, while tinned provisions were going for £7 a can. A bottle of honey fetched £4 and cakes of chocolate between £3 and £4. The only regret was the lack sugar. The auctions were well attended and provided a little bit of amusement. Not everyone approved, as Captain Anderson points out: “…we had to endure the melancholy sight of seeing the clothes, &c., of dead men sold at public auction…and it was sad indeed, to observe so much appearance of actual mirth and jollity displayed by many who were present. How very little we all seemed to reflect on the truth of the words, “In the midst of life we are in death.” Here you saw the coat of your friend “put up” and tried on by one and then another; now and then, too, you heard the passing joke of the crowd as to its being a “good fit,” &c. How little did many think that probably the next auction would be over their own clothes and that too within the space of only a few days.”

One particular item, a flannel shirt, was put up for auction three separate times and finally deemed unlucky as each wearer had been shot shortly after putting it on. Another shirt, fouled with the remains of the man’s brains, sold for a small fortune – as the season turned to winter, any warm shirt was worth its weight in gold. It was not uncommon, as Anderson observed, to see two men walking together one day, bosom friends and the next day, with one of the men dead, the same friend bidding hard for the dead man’s boots.
As for apparel, the garrison was certainly less fussy about appearances, though some of the ladies complained when one woman was regularly seen cleaning her teeth wearing nothing but her underclothes! She then dared to walk around thus clothed for the rest of the day, saying it was too hot to wear anything else. As precarious as the situation was, the ladies still had time to shake their heads over this obvious outrage. However, they could all agree that the offending woman was hardly a lady, which explained away her lack of decorum.

Nor could anyone understand how Captain Barwell always turned out every day, well-groomed, and his clothes are finely laundered. Other men were reduced to simply tying tape around their legs in lieu of trousers; another managed to find a lady to sew him a suit out of the billiard tablecloth from the destroyed Residency table, striking a fine figure in bright green. It took a brave man indeed to show up in front of his colleagues dressed in nothing but a red or green shirt and his remaining long underwear, the ends of which he tucked into a pair of brown leather boots. With laundry impossible, many privates broke into the supply stores and stole the remaining ink from the public offices to dye their previously white uniforms a strange khaki colour by combining red and black ink – the dirt showed up less, and they were no longer conspicuous for the enemy. As the months wore on, even this colour turned a dirty brown. Gubbins found time to make mention of the ink – irritated at the obvious theft of government property, he ordered the ink stored in a
locked cupboard. Shortly after, the wily privates simply removed the back of the cupboard and removed the ink without having to break the lock, verily defeating Mr. Gubbins.

Maria Germon’s diary and that of Mrs Harris are a litany of sewing their husbands’ unmentionables while contriving different ways to clothe them from whatever cloth came to hand. Maria Germon at least had the satisfaction of knowing her husband did his own laundry – she failed to understand why other husbands were not as forthcoming as hers! When we look at Germon’s Post, we can only admire Charlie Germon patiently washing his clothes under a hail of bullets while the building flew to pieces around his head.