In
late 2005, a call went out in the Internet knitting circles in Australia for
someone to assist a gentleman recreating an Australian World War II Army
uniform, and needing socks. Since I had knit dozens of socks I thought “How
hard can this be?” and sent off an email offering my services. Thus began an
exercise that took over six months, and not because I am a slow knitter.
First I
learned that Australian Army socks were knee-high. That’s a lot more socks
than I had knit before, although the socks I knit for myself are longer than
average for women’s socks. Australian Army uniforms today include a summer
version with shorts and knee high socks are worn with them. In WWII, all socks
were wool, despite the fact that most of the fighting was done in warm
climates. My client had tried to find similar socks but was confused when he
was unable to find any labeled “100% merino wool“ which is what he knew he
needed. What was marketed as merino wool in the 1940s is not what one would
find today with that label. I explained to him that the merino label now meant
a luxury fiber and was carefully selected for fineness. In older times all the
wool clip was combined into homogenous bales and the selection of superfine
merino for fine fashion was not as important
Then
we embarked upon a search for a pattern. There are plenty of easily-available
patterns available for American Army socks but they are not the knee high
type. My client sent me example socks, authentic ones which were minus the
heels, and contemporary ones, which are not wool and are not authentic to his
needs. I consulted with the Australian War Memorial, who after assuring me
they had such a pattern, sent me a very generic “how to knit socks” flyer
which was not what I needed. I work at the National Library of Australia and I
knew we had a sizable collection of vintage knitting patterns, since I had
helped organize them. I didn’t recall seeing a pattern for Army socks but I
thought I’d try going through the hundreds of patterns to see if I could find
anything. To my delight, one of the first Patons’ leaflets I found was a flyer
for knitting garments for servicemen. I finally had a pattern that looked like
it was designed to match the socks he had sent. Subsequently I found more
leaflets like the attached.
My
next battle was to get suitable knitting material. I tried standard sock wool
and could not match the gauge of 9 stitches per inch so I set out on a search
for finer yarn. How much finer did I need? How do you tell how fine you need
to get a certain gauge when you have to order via mail order? There is no LYS
in Canberra, where I live, that stocks a range of fine-weight wool so I went
out looking online. I ordered one after the other, and seemed to meet “not in
stock” too frequently. I had already realized I would have to dye them after
knitting since the pattern called for “Patons’ Army Sock Wool” which was
available in the 1940’s but is no longer. I finally remembered that Bendigo
Woolen Mills in Bendigo, Victoria, sold wool in weights that Australians call
2- and 3-ply (sock wool is normally judged to be 4-ply, as is most baby wool)
so I ordered some 3-ply and with size 0 needles (2.mm) I was able to get my
gauge.
So,
the knitting began. I was surprised that the pattern called for casting on 81
stitches. At a gauge of 9 stitches per inch, this made a rather skinny leg.
Did men in the 1940’s have thinner legs? Were the socks expected to stretch
over time? My client assured me he didn’t intend wearing them, so I didn’t
worry about them fitting a real person. Eight inches of ribbing at the top
(folded over) preceded the sock leg proper. From there on it was a pretty
basic 4x1 rib, with a further narrowing at the ankle and a surprisingly short
foot of 6” before toe decreases. The pattern was quite casual about the foot
part of the sock, assuming I suppose, that everyone knew how to knit the foot
of a sock. In the photo the sample sock is between my two completed socks.
When
I finally had my two socks complete, it was time to approach the dyeing. The
example socks my client had sent me looked to be a faded olive drab. He had
supplied me with dye that is sold in stores near the military bases as
“hosiery tan” and “khaki”. The khaki looked very green and the tan looked very
tan. The directions given with the dye sounded as if they were standard for an
acid dye. I dissolved the tan dye and brought my dye pot to a simmer. I had 2
test swatches that came from my gauge experiments. I put the first one in, and
began to watch since the instructions called for boiling for 20 minutes. After
5 minutes the test swatch was already too darkly colored and way too orange. I
pulled it out and tried adding the greenish “khaki” dye to tone down the
orange and tried my second test. Still the dye struck far to strongly and was
only slightly less orange than the first try. I had no more dyes to try, and
no more test swatches. I could not recall any dyes I was familiar with that
would give the colour I was aiming at, so I threw the socks in and let them
simmer for about 10 minutes before retrieving them and rinsing. They were far
too orange but I hoped when dry would be better looking. Unfortunately, they
were still butterscotch when dry. After some musing on dyes and complementary
colours, I decided to over-dye the too-orange socks with blue acid dye and it
did the trick. The colour is not as good as it would have been had I started
out with a green/tan dye to begin with, but they will certainly not shout
under the trousers of the World War II soldier’s uniform. My client informs me
that there is quite a range of colours in the authentic materials he acquires
and what was standard issue for fighting in the desert at the beginning of the
conflict was not the same as used for jungle-warfare at the end. Some of his
garments look like they started off tan and were later died green.
It has been
an interesting experience and I have great admiration for all the women during
the conflict who churned out so many pairs of socks, knitting in the dark,
with wool probably a lot less finely prepared than what we expect today, and
who were trying to make an effort to support the war effort.
Carol is an accomplished spinner and creative knitter and blogs about her
life in Australia and her work at
Swanknitter.