The Return of the Soldier

By Rebecca West

Virago, 2010

Sam Jordison, Reviewer

Rebecca West, (Bettmann Archive)

Originally Presented in The Guardian, 5 June 2018

“I’ve aroused hostility in an extraordinary lot of people,” Rebecca West told the Paris Review in 1981. “I’ve never known why. I don’t think I’m formidable.”

West was speaking toward the end of a long, productive life. She had written troubling accounts of the Nuremberg trials, spoken up about repression under communist regimes (and had done the same for fascist ones in the decades before the Second World War), and taken to the streets with suffragettes (later falling out with many of their leaders). She had set down hundreds of thousands of sparkling words in novels, non-fiction books, reviews and journalism. And throughout it all she had demonstrated an enviable ability to set fire to everything.

Here she is on feminism, in 1913:

“I myself have never been able to find out what feminism is; I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute.”

And on female writers, in 1952:

“If one is a woman writer there are certain things one must do. First, not be too good; second, die young, what an edge Katherine Mansfield has on all of us; third, commit suicide like Virginia Woolf. To go on writing and writing well just can’t be forgiven.”

Her debut novel, The Return of the Soldier (1918) is a wonderful provocation. It took a maverick line on everything from sexual politics to class and the First World War The story revolves around a 36-year-old soldier called Chris Baldry who has returned from the front during the First World War physically intact but shell shocked. He has forgotten the past 15 years of his life and can’t remember anything past the age of 21, when he was deeply in love with a significantly less wealthy woman called Margaret. He has forgotten that he and Margaret fell out of contact, and that he married another woman called Kitty, with whom he both sired and lost a child. He has forgotten that he has carried out extensive renovations to his country estate, Baldry Court, and so loses his footing on new steps in the hall. He has forgotten the war. He is, as a result of this loss, much happier.

Reading today, this memory loss feels like a convenient plot device, but as Victoria Glendinning reminds us in the introduction to the Virago anniversary edition of the novel, problems with recollection were a frequent symptom of shell shock. By the end of the First World War, the British army faced 80,000 cases, with hundreds of thousands more young men also dealing with serious trauma. So in 1918, West was engaged with some of the toughest questions of the time.

The Return of the Soldier is more about the pity than the glory of war; references to “flooded” trenches, a sky “full of flying death” and bullets falling “like rain on the rotting faces of the dead” show that West has no illusions about “the old Lie.” But The Return of the Soldier is not a straightforward anti-war book. One of its most tragic implications is that Chris is better off “sick”—he may be delusional, but his madness makes far more sense than the real world. This idea is made explicit by the doctor who arrives to see him toward the end of the book:

“It’s my profession to bring people from various outlying districts of the mind to the normal. There seems to be a general feeling it’s the place where they ought to be. Sometimes I don’t see the urgency myself.”

What does Chris win by going back to war, or even by staying in his unhappy marriage? Weighed against this are the demands of his wife, the exigencies of a society at war, and the idea that “the truth is the truth and he must know it.” Yet the novel is ambivalent at best about his return to military service.

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On the way to this unsettling conclusion, West packs in all manner of subversion. There are hints of lesbianism and adultery, as well as the eternal taboo of incest. She undermines the idea that women should exist merely to promote men’s happiness, and she pours gelignite into the foundations of the class system by making her narrator, Jenny, a terrible snob. Here is her view of the much poorer Margaret:

“She was repulsively furred with neglect and poverty, as even a good glove that has dropped behind a bed in a hotel and has lain undisturbed for a day or two is repulsive when the chambermaid retrieves it from the dust and fluff.”

And so it goes on, blasting assumptions old and new, and West carried out this work of destruction at the age of just 24 and in less than 200 pages. If that isn’t formidable, tell me what is.

Sam Jordison

Getting Those Naval Mutinies Straight

Sailors Demonstrating at Wilhelmshaven, 10 November 1918

I'm pretty sure that some of our readers share my difficulty in sorting out the causes of the Russian and two German Naval mutinies of the Great War. Through the miracle of the internet, however, I discovered a September 1939 article in the United States Naval Institute Proceedings by Lt. Commander John D. Hayes that clarified things for me. Here are the pertinent sections from the article. By the by, Hayes's article also included commentary on a 1931 Royal Navy affair, which I've deleted from this presentation. Also his article did not address the March 1921 Naval Mutiny against the Bolsheviks that was crushed by Lenin and Trotsky.

Lt. Commander John D. Hayes, U.S.N.

Sailors of Kronstadt Say, "Death to the bourgeoisie."

The Russian Naval Mutinies

“The same as you, sir.” 

Reply of a sailor in a loyal Russian destroyer when asked by his commanding officer what he thought of the Revolution.

The story of the Russian naval mutinies of 1917 is rather the story of the disintegration of a navy. The mutinies paralleled the revolution and were an integral part of it. There were two major mutinies, one at the naval station at Kronstadt, near Petrograd, and another a few days later among the vessels of the Baltic Fleet at the winter base in Helsingfors, Finland.

The mutiny at Kronstadt was coincident with the February revolution in Petrograd. During the first two days of this revolution Kronstadt remained quiet in a state of suspense. On February 27, the day that the guards regiments in Petrograd mutinied, the military forces at Kronstadt did the same and by midnight a naval mutiny had commenced.

By 5:30 a.m. sailors were going through the officers’ quarters gathering arms and ammunition. At this time Admiral Viren, the commandant, was arrested by the mutineers. He was shot shortly afterward while trying to address the men. The mutiny blazed a bloody trail throughout the day. The outsiders who incited it endeavored to keep it in hand, but altogether 78 officers and petty officers were murdered. Most of the rest spent long months in prison only perhaps to face a firing squad. The Kronstadt soviet was formed and it immediately became a spearhead of the revolution.

The mutiny in the Baltic Fleet at Helsingfors broke out about 8:00 p.m. on 2 March, the evening of the abdication of the tsar. But for a few radio messages and what information had passed by word of mouth, the fleet was without knowledge of the momentous events that were taking place in Petrograd during the previous six days. The commander-in-chief, Admiral Nepenin, had been requested by the leaders of the Duma to agree to the abdication of the tsar. He did so. Later, because of the temper of the men of the fleet, he sent a message to the tsar, begging his abdication in the hopes of preventing a mutiny. When the tsar did abdicate, Nepenin did not announce it to the fleet. Nevertheless, it became generally known.

Whether the abdication was a signal for a mutiny or whether it had been previously timed is not known, but at 8:00 p.m. its commencement was indicated in most battleships by a red light at the masthead. In two of the older battleships and in a number of other ships it immediately took a bloody form in murderous reprisals against officers, warrant officers, and some petty officers. In the four dreadnoughts, however, there was no bloodshed. The crews only demanded that the officers surrender their arms. In the flagship of this division, Rear Admiral Bakhirev ordered the officers to deposit their pistols in his cabin but he refused to turn them over to the crew. The crew of the yacht Krechet, in which Admiral Nepenin flew his flag, remained loyal. In the cruiser Diana the mutiny was quiet and took place only at the instigation of the crews of the battleships. No general mutiny took place in destroyers. The next day, under pressure of men from other ships, destroyer crews carried out nominal mutinies consisting of disarming their officers and confining them to the wardrooms. In the minesweepers mutiny broke out coincident with that in the battleships but was of a less brutal nature. Several officers on shore at the time were killed. Altogether 38 officers met their death on that fateful night.

The following day was quieter. However, Admiral Nepenin met his death on the second day at the hands of a mutineer in the uniform of a petty officer. The command of the fleet then passed into the hands of Admiral Maksimoff, a bombastic opportunist who professed to be in sympathy with the Revolution. By this time, a soviet was formed in Helsingfors under the leadership of a sub-lieutenant named Garfield, a member of the Bolshevist party. Thereafter the mutiny was directed from shore.

At a general mass meeting that afternoon, attended by most of the crews and many of the officers, Rodichev, a high official of the new provisional government, together with a deputy from the Duma and two members of the coming powerful Petrograd Soviet, spoke on the necessity of ceasing all tumult and keeping order and discipline. Somewhat calmed, the men returned to their ships and nominally resumed their duties.

Kronstadt Sailors March in Petrograd

At Reval (now Tallinn, Estonia), the winter base of the smaller craft of the Baltic Fleet, the February Revolution and the abdication of the tsar passed without affecting the internal organization of these units. The same was true of the few ships at the Muhu Strait. But the steady pressure of the Revolution and propaganda from other parts of the fleet gradually undermined the discipline in these vessels. Mutiny broke out in July during the recurrence of revolutionary fervor following the failure of the Kornilov coup. There were few killings, however. The mutiny was more a creature of an inevitable fate which even the men themselves would have been powerless to stop.

Then began the gradual disintegration of the Baltic Fleet. Ship soviets were formed. Their purpose at first was only the general welfare of the crews. Then they took over questions of policy and finally they were giving orders to all the officers including the captains. There was also formed a central soviet of the Baltic Fleet known as “Centrabalt.” This committee was quite revolutionary and contained many outsiders. It took over the administration of the Fleet and later abolished the office of commander in chief. Reforms were made by it which were both revolutionary and ruinous. Rating badges and shoulder marks were abolished, long service men and warrant officers were discharged, and the names of all of the ships were changed.

No outbreak of mutiny occurred in the Black Sea Fleet. There the men had sterner stuff to deal with. The commander-in-chief of the Black Sea Fleet was Admiral Kolchak, then the youngest and most promising officer of flag rank in the Russian Navy and afterward a leader of the anti-Red forces in the civil war of 1919–20.

After the February Revolution and the abdication of the tsar, Kolchak informed the provisional government of his allegiance and called upon the officers and men of the fleet, naval stations, and forts on the Black Sea to support it. All loyally agreed, and at his instance the men of his fleet chose 300 of their number to tour Russia in an effort to bolster the morale of the Army and the rest of the Navy.

This move was countered by Lenin, who sent a delegation of Kronstadt sailors to Sevastopol. The latter were more successful, and on June 8 the sailors of the Black Sea Fleet mutinied and ordered the officers to give up their arms. Such a request was too much for Kolchak. He refused to see the men’s deputies and called the crew of his flagship aft. He told them that the Japanese after the fall of Port Arthur respected the sword which had been given him for military courage and had allowed him to keep it. Now his own men wished to take it away from him. “Well, you shall not get it. I shall not give it to you either dead or alive,” and he threw the sword into the sea. This action sobered the men, but Kolchak told them that he considered them unworthy of his command. He left for Petrograd, where he endeavored without success to get the provisional government to bolster the prestige of the officers in both military services.

Kolchak prevented a repetition of the bloody reprisals of the Baltic, but he could not and he knew he could not prevent the disintegration of his fleet. After he left discipline broke down and though the fleet carried on in a manner for about six months its fighting value gradually faded. The paradox is that while the Baltic Fleet was saved for Russia, the vessels of the Black Sea Fleet fell into the hands of German or Turkish naval forces.

The German Naval Mutinies

Sailors of SMS Prinzregent Luitpold say, "Long Live the Socialist Republic"

There were two mutinies in the High Seas Fleet of the German Navy during the World War: the unsuccessful mutiny of 1917 and the mutiny a year later which resulted in the collapse of German arms. Both grew out of a boredom with the monotonous duties the fleet was called upon to perform.

The mutiny of 1917 was one of a series of small demonstrations of insubordination that happened to go farther and have more serious consequences than the rest. For months among the crews of certain battleships there had been an undercurrent of mutinous feeling which the officers were either ignorant of or chose to ignore. Such pitiful exhibitions of breakdown of discipline as wholesale “bulkheading” [complaining],  boat falls being cut, firing mechanisms falling overboard, and hoses being “accidentally” turned on officers were occurring with painful regularity. Most of these disturbances found their cause in the quality of the food, which was bad throughout Germany during 1917 due to a poor harvest and the British blockade.

These disturbances over food resulted in a concession from the government permitting the formation of a committee in each ship chosen from the lower ratings that would represent the crew in matters regarding food. It was a dangerous concession. In the battleships Prinzregent Luitpold and Friederich der Grosse wily agitators and professed revolutionaries gained control of these committees.

The amount of revolutionary literature that found its way into the fleet increased tremendously. Most of it was paid for with British intelligence money. Soon the idea of a sailors’ union developed and with it the possibility of a general strike. This was broached aboard various ships and with incredible speed the idea spread through the fleet. Connections were made with the USPD, the Independent Social Democratic Party of Germany, which favored a revolution as a means of ending the war. The union became an established fact although still weak and formless. Centrals were formed in many ships, and in the Friederich der Grosse there was a fleet central with an energetic stoker petty officer named Sachse at its head.

The wiser heads among the agitators wished to wait for the union to acquire strength and gain the confidence of the lower ratings of the fleet and also to obtain funds from Berlin. The crew of the Prinzregent Luitpold could not wait. On the evening of July 31, the third firemen’s watch learned that they were to be deprived of an expected liberty and motion picture performance scheduled for the following day. During the night they boldly posted on the bulletin board an announcement that if they were deprived of their liberty they would go without leave. Thus 50 of them proceeded to do the next morning. When they returned to the ship, 11 were placed under arrest.

That evening a meeting was held in an empty freight car in the dockyard. The leaders of the various ship centrals were present. There under pressure from the representatives of the Prinzregent Luitpold it was decided to test the strength of the union. A sympathy strike for the 11 men would be declared in the Prinzregent, and the other ships would support it.

The next morning the sailors of that ship proceeded to carry out their strike. Six hundred men left the ship and paraded through the streets of Wilhelmshaven advertising their purloined freedom. But as soon as they returned aboard, the Prinzregent got under way and anchored in Schillig Roads. On 3 August, the centrals again had a meeting and at noon the next day the strike of the sailors’ union began throughout the Fleet. In 12 of the 24 battleships and in the cruiser Pillau duty was refused. Rioting reached such a state in the Friederich der Grosse that she was sent to join the Prinzregent Luitpold at Schillig Roads. In the Kaiserin no watches were stood, the executive officer was hooted, and the officers' storeroom was raided. Similar scenes took place in the König, Markgraf, Kronprinz Wilhelm, Grosser Kurfürst, Westfalen, Rheinland, Helgoland, Ostfriesland, Posen, and Pillau. Of Squadron IV only the Kaiser remained quiet.

This outburst was indicative more of the general temper of the men than of the strength of their union. It was a demonstration of feeling which was without planning or co-ordination and which soon expended itself. The work of the mutineers came to nothing for the authorities were forewarned and were ready for the mutiny even before it commenced. The leaders were all arrested and to prevent the feeling from spreading ashore, where the consequences would have been more serious, the entire fleet on the afternoon of 5 August got under way for Schillig Roads.

The mutiny was punished with a heavy hand. Leaders in most of the ships received sentences of from two to 15 years. Of those in the Friederich der Grosse and Prinzregent Luitpold, five were sentenced to death. Von Scheer confirmed the sentences of two who were connected with the Berlin revolutionaries, which parties he considered responsible for the whole affair. The sentences of the other three were commuted to 15 years imprisonment.

Refusing to Sail from Kiel

The Admiralty and the fleet command wanted more than just the breakup of the mutiny and the punishment of its leaders. They wanted the USPD exposed. Had the government been strong this might have been done. But the case against this party was ill prepared, and the government only succeeded in aligning the liberal groups against itself.

More positive factors than punishment and suppression eradicated all mutinous tendencies in the High Seas Fleet for more than a year. These included a new admiral in Squadron IV, a good harvest, fleet activity in the Baltic, the Russian collapse, and submarines exceeding their allotted tonnage of Allied shipping destroyed.

The 1918 mutiny had its beginning in the High Sea Fleet, but it was carried to its culmination in the shore station at Kiel. The first demonstrations of insubordination took place in Squadrons I and III when orders were issued for the fleet to put to sea on 28 October 1918, to give battle with the British in the one final effort of the German arms. The men knew the war was already lost and they refused to go to what they considered would be suicide. The sortie had to be abandoned, but with the aid of loyal destroyers and submarines the mutineers were arrested, 350 from the Thüringen, 150 from the Helgoland, and 180 from the Markgraf. Disturbances took place in other battleships at the same time.

The prisoners from the Thüringen and Helgoland were sent ashore at Wilhelmshaven, where a naval guard released them. Those of the Markgraf were taken off at Kiel, to which port Squadron III proceeded after the cancellation of the sortie. Their confinement offered a splendid excuse for agitation, and soon agitators both ashore and afloat were haranguing the men to free their comrades of the Markgraf. The mutiny soon reached tremendous proportions. Admiral Souchon, the naval governor of Kiel, was unable to cope with the situation. This popular officer had commanded the Goeben and Breslau during their escape from the British in the Mediterranean in 1914. In 1917 he transformed mutinous Squadron IV into the most efficient battleship unit of the fleet, and he had but lately arrived at Kiel. Now he could not believe that his beloved navy was crumbling beneath his feet, and he allowed the mutiny to get out of hand by refusing to realize what was taking place. It was Gustav Norske, a Social Democrat member of the Reichstag, who had traveled to Kiel and took over the situation, saving Kiel from a reign of terror.

The sailors of Kiel ignited the fires of revolution throughout all Germany. On Saturday, 2 November, the first signs of mutiny appeared. By Monday, 80,000 men had broken the bonds of discipline at that station. By Wednesday, every battleship except the ever loyal Kaiser was flying the red flag. The radio station at Kiel spread the news of the mutiny throughout the world. Thousands of sailors immediately left the naval town for all over Germany; for fear of retaliation, especially from the army, to see friends and families, or to be done with the war. The day after “Red Monday” at Kiel, Hamburg was aflame with revolution; by Friday the revolution had reached Munich; on Saturday the Kaiser abdicated. Two days previous an armistice had been asked of the Allies.

The political consequences of this mutiny were momentous. Germany might never have been forced to accept the ignominious terms of the Armistice had the Navy still existed as a loyal fighting unit, but it is heartening to know that in the tumult of their world crashing about their heads many sailors of Germany kept their pride and their faith. The battle cruisers did not succumb to the Reds until after the Kaiser’s abdication. In the destroyers, submarines, and zeppelins, and in many of the cruisers, the imperial flag was never lowered. The Derfflinger, on the day of the ignominious surrender, still flaunted a smart ship in the face of the Englishmen who had once felt the bitter lash of her guns. A naval battalion helped Norske save Germany from the Bolshevists during the crucial month of January 1919, and not to be forgotten are the 200 officers and 1,600 men, the shell of a once proud navy, who remained at Scapa Flow to carry out on 21 June 1919 the signal, “Paragraph 11—Acknowledge,” [that initiated the final scuttling of the High Seas Fleet.]

Sculptures in Kiel Recalling the 1918 Mutiny

Comparing the Mutinies

In comparing the German mutinies with the Russian, it is of interest to note that whereas competent leaders arose quickly among the mutinous Russian sailors, the German mutineers were unable to handle the situations they had created. Accustomed to being led, they found themselves helpless after the first outburst. On board ship the mutineers usually surrendered; at Kiel, they forced leadership on the civilian, Norske. This tends to prove that the German mutinies were less revolutionary than charged. Actually they were spontaneous outbursts from a long smoldering flame. On the other hand, long training in revolutionary thought had prepared the Russian sailors, and their leaders were already among them when they struck.

Editor's Notes: 

1. Lt. Commander Hayes (1902–1991) continued his naval service through two wars, retiring as a rear admiral in 1954. Afterward, he continued writing prolifically on military affairs and seapower.

2. The above, of course, is a major abridgement of Commander Hayes's original article. Because of its length, I could not include major interesting sections, especially his reflections on the relations between officers and sailors, why battleships were the most volatile ships primed for mutiny,  and how easily discipline on a man-of-war can be undermined. The full article can be read HERE.

Source: "Three Modern Naval Mutinies", United States Naval Institute Proceedings, September 1939

On the Receiving End of the Paris Gun: St-Gervais-et-St-Protais Church

 

The Church Today

Located at 13 rue des Barres in the 4th Arrondissement,  St-Gervais-et-St-Protais Church suffered a great tragedy on Good Friday, 1918. During their spring offensives of 1918, the German military deployed a terror weapon against Paris. The Krupp arms works had developed an early "super gun" that could bombard Paris from 75 miles away. The officially designated Wilhelmgeschütz (Kaiser Wilhelm Gun) was one of the most remarkable artillery pieces ever built.

One of the Paris Guns

Commonly known as the "Paris Gun" (not "Big Bertha"), shells from the three pieces deployed rode to 25 miles in the stratosphere before plunging to earth. Consequently, it was very inexact as to where they would land.  From March through August of 1918, three of the guns shot 351 shells at Paris from the woods of Crepy. Casualties of the gun's use are estimated at 256 deaths and 620 wounded within the city. 

The Damaged Church

Of this total, 88 killed and 68 wounded on 29 March 1918 alone when a shell landed on the church of St-Gervais-et-St-Protais, causing its collapse while a Good Friday service was in progress. A memorial in the church remembers the victims that day. 

Memorial to the Dead of That Day

Eyewitnesses: The Battle of Amiens Opens — 8 August 1918

A  Battered Amiens at the Time of the Battle

Prelude

Letter from Wolfgang Panzer, Reserve-Infanterie-Regiment Nr. 56, to his parents and siblings on 3 August 1918

The situation here is more peculiar than anywhere on the front line. In Artois and in French Flanders, villages even kilometres behind the first position were nothing but piles of rubble, and it still occasionally fills me with dread when I look at the map and retrace our steps this spring through the scenes of carnage from the Battle of the Somme.

Everyone in our fatherland should have been there, and then they’d perhaps be better able to judge whether it was a wise move to retreat at the Marne. We look upon the events without surprise and without the slightest fears, and I thank my creator for giving us leaders who have the courage and the sense of responsibility to confidently surrender what could only be retained through senseless bloodshed and for no purpose at all. So, we’re remarkably untarnished, while the enemy, in a blind fury, drives one division after another to their destruction. Everything will turn out for the best. That’s all for today.

Your loving Wolf.

Ammunition Column

Extract from Field Marshal Haig’s diary – 7 August 1918

At 2.45 pm I left for Fléxicourt [sic], where I had a talk with General Rawlinson. Everything is going on without a hitch and the Enemy seems in ignorance of the impending blow! I then went on to HQ Canadian Corps at Dury and saw General Currie commanding the Corps. The latter said it had been a hustle to be ready in time, but everything had been got in except 2 long-range guns. The platforms were ready for them and they would be got in by tonight. Last night was our most critical moment. If the Germans had bombarded the Canadian zone, we could not have retaliated last night.

Tonight the situation is quite different and we are ready!

General Sir John Monash’s message to the troops the day before battle

For the first time in the history of our Corps, all five Australian Divisions will to-morrow engage in the largest and most important battle operation ever undertaken by the Corps. Because of the completeness of our plans and dispositions, of the magnitude of the operations, of the number of troops employed, and of the depth to which we intend to over-run the enemy’s positions, this battle will be one of the most memorable of the whole war. The work to be done to-morrow will perhaps make heavy demands upon the endurance and the staying powers of many of you; but I am confident that, in spite of excitement, fatigue, and physical strain, every man will carry on to the utmost of his powers until his goal is won; for the sake of AUSTRALIA, the empire and our cause.

Mark-Series Tanks Advancing to the Front

The Opening Day

Marshal Foch, Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Armies, to General Debeney 

It is well understood that the French 1st Army must reach Roye as early as possible, and reinforce the IIIrd. When the result has been obtained, the situation itself will indicate what is to be done: halt or move forward again.

It is precisely because one cannot settle it today that no option must be ruled out. With this aim, never must any Infantry Division be sent to the rear. Those which can no longer advance are to be bypassed, pass to the second line, and provide support until the result desired by higher command is obtained.

Therefore: Move quickly, march hard, maneuvering as you advance: support from behind with everybody until the result is obtained. If these conditions are fulfilled, losses will be avoided in a few days.

Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas-Louis Tremblay, 22nd Battalion, Canadian Expeditionary Force, Diary

Last night was quiet; the enemy doesn’t seem to suspect that a terrible attack is imminent. Thousands and thousands of men have been concentrated into our front lines and formidable tools of war are at the ready, awaiting the signal to unleash a terrifying campaign of bombardment against the enemy. Finally at 4:20 this morning, the storm surged with incredible violence and under cover of this steel sheet blowing everything up in the enemy trenches, our infantry advanced, supported by tanks. 

Private Southey, Australian Corps 

The morning of 8th August started very foggy indeed, and as our barrage opened, a tremendous barrage, we were wondering how we were going to get on. But, forward we pushed, and met comparatively slight opposition. Some Germans surrendered quickly, others fought to the end. As we pushed on wondering where we were, the sun broke through and we began to see the countryside that we hadn’t seen for quite a time. It was unscarred, all sorts of cultivated land, and we began to feel, ‘By Jove, the war’s coming to an end. We’re getting through.’ And we had a feeling of great uplift about the whole job.

9.2 Inch Howitzer Preparing to Fire

Tank Commander Wilfred Bion on 8 August 1918 

At 9.50pm Handley Page bombers were due to start flying along the front; the noise of their engines was supposed to cloak the roar of the tank engines so the enemy would not become suspicious. Soon we heard the characteristic pulsating tone. Just then from two miles away we heard the roar of the first tank engine starting up. The tanks, after the first one, helped to screen each other. As each engine started, the driver throttled down to slow speed so that the roar became a diffuse murmur, and the murmur became an undifferentiated noise like traffic on the roads; it was just possible to believe that the enemy would be deceived.

A Canadian Motorized Machine Gun Unit Advancing

Paul von Hindenburg, German Army Chief of Staff,  Extract from Memoirs

On the morning of August 8th our comparative peace was abruptly interrupted. In the southwest the noise of battle could clearly be heard. The first reports, which came from Army Headquarters in the neighborhood of Péronne, were serious. The enemy, employing large squadrons of tanks, had broken into our lines on both sides of the Amiens-St. Quentin road. Further details could not be given.

The veil of uncertainty was lifted during the next few hours, though our telephone lines had been broken in many places. There was no doubt that the enemy had penetrated deeply into our positions and that batteries had been lost.

On this August 8th we had to act as we had so often acted in equally menacing situations. Initial successes of the enemy were no new experience for us. We had seen them in 1916 and 1917, at Verdun, Arras, Wytschaete and Cambrai. We had only quite recently experienced and mastered another at Soissons. But in the present case the situation was particularly serious. The great tank attack of the enemy had penetrated to a surprising depth. The tanks, which were faster than hitherto, had surprised Divisional Staff in their headquarters and torn up the telephone lines which communicated with the battle front.

I had no illusions about the political effects of our defeat on August 8th . . . The failure of August 8th was revealed to all eyes as the consequences of an open weakness. To fail in an attack was a very different matter from being vanquished on the defence. The amount of booty which our enemy could publish to the world spoke a clear language.

Men of the 12th Division

Aftermath

Canon Frederick George Scott CMG DSO, Senior Chaplain – First Canadian Division

Here and there I met wounded men walking back, and many German prisoners. In the fields in different directions I could see rifles stuck, bayonet downwards, in the ground, which showed that there lay wounded men. I found that these were chiefly Germans, and all of them had received hideous wounds and were clamoring for water. Poor men, I was sorry for them, for I knew it would be long before they could be carried out or receive medical attention, owing to the rapidity of our advance. I made my way to each in turn and gave him a drink from some of the water bottles which I carried round my belt. I think all the Germans I saw that morning were dying, having been wounded in the stomach. After attending, as far as it was possible, to their bodily needs, I endeavored to minister to their spiritual. As they happened to be Roman Catholics, I took off the crucifix which I wore round my neck and gave it to them.

They would put up their trembling hands and clasp it lovingly, and kiss it, while I began the Lord’s Prayer in German. This happened many times that day. One man who had a hideous wound in the abdomen was most grateful, and when he handed me back the crucifix he took my hand and kissed it. It was strange to think that an hour before, had we met, we should have been deadly enemies.

Commemorative Tablet
 Basilique Cathédrale Notre-Dame d'Amiens

Diary entry of Herménégilde Duchaussoy, Mayor of Amiens, 1916–1919

Thursday 8 August: 

8 August will remain famous in history as the start of a battle which will last three months, first of all freeing Amiens, showing the attrition of the German armies and finally giving us victory.

Saturday 10 August

The communiqué of 10 August becomes, for all the inhabitants of Amiens who have fled, “the finest serial to be continued”. Our troops have captured Pierrepont. During the day, after taking Davenescourt, we attacked south of Montdidier, then set about Faverolles. I had tears in my eyes as I read the communiqué, it is victory and moreover the liberation of Amiens, so one is going to be able to return. We will no longer be refugees! For me, there is no home left, our house being uninhabitable. We will have to look for somewhere else to put up the family.

Source: Selections from the program for the Centenary Commemoration of the Battle of Amiens, 8 August 2018

The Day a Rookie Shot Down an Ace

 

Adversaries: Avery and Menckhoff

On 25 July 1918, 1st Lt. Walter Avery of the U.S. 95th Aero Squadron shot down veteran German ace Oberleutenant Carl Menckhoff (who had 39 victories) near Château-Thierry, France on his first combat mission. He had previously flown with a French squadron charged with the defense of Paris, but had no dogfighting experience. His first dogfight marked Avery's first aerial victory, forcing Menckhoff to crash-land and leading to his capture. Avery described the fight in his war diary:  "Both [my] guns jammed," Mr. Avery wrote in his diary. "While clearing the jams he got on my tail and put two bullets in my left wing. . . I did a retournment and with the resulting speed was able to stand vertically on my tail and give him a good burst. He started to lose altitude and went down in a tight spiral. I followed him, shooting, and saw him crash in the woods." Menckhoff had survived and been taken prisoner by French soldiers.

Aftermath

After Avery had landed,  he clipped a fabric letter "M" from the side of Menckhoff's Fokker D.VII as a souvenir, though he sportingly left Menckhoff's prestigious Pour le Mérite ("Blue Max") medal with him. Carl Menckhoff subsequently escaped from the French prisoner of war camp—post Armistice—and made his way to Switzerland, before returning to Germany.  After some legal trouble with the Nazi regime, he returned to Switzerland permanently to raise a family, never mentioning the war. His son was never aware of his father's wartime achievements. 

After shooting down another opponent, Walter Avery was, himself, shot down and wounded in October. He also finished the war as a POW. Upon his return he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. Besides his listing as a  Harvard graduate (1917), there is not much to be found about his later civilian activities.

In Another Century

The piece of fabric sat ignored in a trunk for 60 years until Avery died in 1978.  In May 2007, Avery’s daughter, Bette Avery Applegate, tracked down and met Menckhoff’s son, Gerhard Menckhoff.  During a poignant ceremony, she returned the fabric "M" piece cut from the WWI aircraft to the German pilot's family.

Sources: U.S. Military Forum; The Aerodrome; Harvard Alumni; Washington Times

Love, War, and Sexuality — Only in Paris

Show Catalog

Venue

In 2007, the Hôtel national des Invalides in Paris, presented a delightful exhibition on this topic, Amours, Guerres et Sexualité – 1914–1945, which I had almost forgotten about until I was checking over some old files recently. I had a particular interest in the program since three of our past contributors, Tony Langley, Bert Govaerts, and Olivier Pierrard, not only attended the opening, but made contributions to the displays. Here are the statement of intent from the sponsors and some examples of the specimens displayed, some of which were from my pals.

How and in what ways did the two world wars affect intimate relationships between men and women? At the crossroads of the history of wars and the history of gender, the exhibition Love, wars and sexuality 1914–1945, explores the question through the collections of the Army Museum, the Museum of Contemporary History-BDIC and with the collaboration of researchers from the National Center for Scientific Research. Objects, official and film posters, postcards, paintings, photographs, private correspondence, diaries, press clippings, literary works: in total, more than 400 items have been brought together for this exhibition on a theme that is, it must be said, a first for the Army Museum. Far removed from the "Make love, not war" of the pacifists of the 1960s and '70s, the aim here is to see under what conditions one could do both, or failing that, dream of one and do the other, in the context of a sexuality that was in any case disrupted and placed under strict military control.

Sexy Lady with Poilu Doll

The Line at a Brothel

Romantic Trench Art Shell Casings

Home on Leave

German and French Illustrations with the Same Theme

Touched by the Great War: Remembering Sam Neill

 

Sam Neill (1947–2026)
With Fellow Cast Members of Reilly: Ace of Spies

By Your Editor/Publisher Mike Hanlon

On 13 July, New Zealander and distinguished actor Sam Neill died of pneumonia at age 78.  Over a highly acclaimed half-century, Neill played numerous memorable roles, including a dinosaur chaser in Jurassic Park,  a Soviet naval officer in the Hunt for Red October, and the Anti-Christ in Omen III.  I suspect, however, that most of our readers remember him best as Reilly: Ace of Spies from the 1980s TV series, which featured a lot of  action from the run-up to World War One and post-revolutionary Russia. Mysteriously, the series' chronology of episodes left out the 1914-1917 war years when Reilly was quite active here in the United States and (according to some legends) operating behind lines on the Western Front.  But, even with these gaps in the timeline and—shall we say—some dubious historical stretchings and speculations, the 12-episode series was stupendously entertaining for history enthusiasts.  Sam just "killed" the role of Reilly and he was strongly supported by a top-notch cast playing familiar historical figures, excellent scripts, evocative music, and bevy of  enchanting and sometimes dangerous lady companions for our hero. 

Sam Neill Visits His Grandfather's Grave at Lijssenthoek Cemetery, Flanders

You could watch that whole television series and most of Sam's movies, however, and never learn he played a major part in his nation's remembrance of its achievements and sacrifices during the struggles of 1914–1918. Multiple members of his family were casualties in the war. His grandfather,  Lieutenant Colonel Robert John Fitzgerald Ingham, Royal Garrison Artillery,  was killed at Messines in 1917. This was an absence that deeply affected Neill's grandmother and left a permanent mark on his family. He also lost a great-uncle and his grandfather's cousin, Lt. Guy Bridgeman, MC, of the New Zealand Field Artillery, who died from illness back home after being badly injured in action.

Sam Neill Before the Sphinx, Anzac Cove, Gallipoli

Neill regularly put his show business expertise to use in supporting commemorative events for the war.  In 2005, with Jeremy Irons, he served as an English language narrator for the Turkish documentary Gallipoli, which examined the 1915  campaign from both sides. Then in 2015, he wrote and presented Why Anzac, an exploration of the realities of the First World War and the Anzac tradition. It was during his location filming that he visited his grandfather's grave in Flanders for the first time. 

Sam Neill at the Podium in His Last Public Appearance

ANZAC Day Commemoration,  April 2026

Right up to his death, Sam also actively participated in remembrance programs in New Zealand and Australia.  Above he is shown reading Laurence Binyon's poem "For the Fallen" at the Sydney Opera House. A video of his reading can be viewed HERE. 

Rest in Peace, Sam

Notes:

1.  The entire documentary Gallipoli can be viewed on YouTube HERE

2.  Sadly, I have been unable to discover a site in North America where his documentary Why Anzac can either be streamed or purchased.  If you have a lead, please share it in the comments.

Censorship and Propaganda in World War I: A Comprehensive History by Eberhard Demm

By Eberhard Demm  

Bloomsbury Academic, 2019

Pip Gregory, Reviewer

The Highly Productive U.S. Committee for Public Information
Leader George Creel on Right

This review originally appeared in the Kent University Blog, 19 November 2019

Eberhard Demm’s Censorship and Propaganda takes on a vast task in attempting to provide a comprehensive insight into First World War propaganda. There is an abundance available out there, across all combatant nations, and its relationship with censorship adds further levels of complexity. There are studies that address aspects thereof, but tying that all together is a daunting task. Demm’s new book builds upon his fabulous articles for the Online Encyclopaedia 1914-1918, plus a number of other works. This new and highly comprehensive volume presents a depth of analysis around propaganda; its design, influence and those who controlled and contributed to it, as well as considering its impact, and legacy that has otherwise been lacking in other studies. Naturally, within Demm’s study of both censorship and propaganda there are aspects for which there is more evidence available, namely the propaganda, and others less so, but what evidence Demm has found he has utilised effectively to demonstrate the value of the widespread of wartime propaganda and its partner in (avoiding) crime, censorship.

Despite the book’s title suggesting equal attention to both propaganda and censorship, the actual discussion is a little one-sided. There is far more analysis of the propaganda, following Demm’s deeper interests for ten of the twelve chapters, with only one chapter outlining censorship specifically in any real detail. That said, the nature of censorship by its very self means the removal of details, and for the historian, piecing those details back together again can be an impossibility. A couple of other chapters link the censor to the propaganda explicitly, while most outline their paired union throughout the war. Nonetheless, the propaganda Demm has chosen is widely varied, and not just another assessment of propaganda posters, of which there are many; this incorporates posters, cartooning and caricature, the theatre, films, operettas, toys and music and the propagandistic influence of each on the public.

In France, Censorship Was Personified by Anastasie

Trying to remain ‘comprehensive’ does mean that there is a lot covered at speed, and sometimes the jumps between nations can be a little disorientating. However, Demm’s relaxed approach to the material eases the reader in, keeping them interested as well as looking for the next anecdote woven into the texture of the book as a whole. There are anecdotal snippets scattered among the more in-depth narratives of statistics and detail, but these as a whole keep the reader conscious of the minutiae that might otherwise have been lost in such a comprehensive volume.

Several chapters open with a quotation or theory relating to their themes, then support or challenge these as the chapter develops. For instance, chapter one begins with a Lloyd George quotation about why the public are not shown the truth through official channels, since, ‘[t]he correspondent don’t write and the censorship would not pass the truth’ [sic]. While chapter three considers the Manichean approach to propaganda along a clear divide of good vs evil, tied to Augustinian principles of who has God on their side. However, Demm’s analysis remains open as right or wrong differed along personal lines depending on which side of the conflict the propagandist supported. Censorship and Propaganda is a welcome addition to analysis in this field, as so many studies of propaganda often fall on one side of the conflict or another and are better able to see their own side as opposed to the opposition’s clearly.

Order HERE

Although this volume provides a significant basis for future works in specifically detailed research on the propaganda of individual nations, for those not looking for explicit detail, it delivers the necessary grounding to raise interest in such analysis without being hindered by innate bias. As such, Demm’s powerful writing continues to inspire and open the way to new thinkers on this topic, no matter their nationality.

Pip Gregory