Sgt. Frank L. Carbaugh's 1918 Poem "The Fields of the Marne"

Sgt. Frank L. Carbaugh, 7th M.G. Battalion, 3rd Division

By Connie Ruzich

Frank Carbaugh was a Doughboy from Greencastle, a small town in central Pennsylvania.  A non-commissioned officer with the 7th Machine Gun Battalion, Carbaugh was wounded at the Second Battle of the Marne late in July of 1918. While in hospital, he wrote a poem that looks ahead to the war’s aftermath.

  The Fields of the Marne

The fields of the Marne are growing green,

  The river murmurs on and on;

No more the hail of mitrailleuse,

  The cannon from the hills are gone.

The herder leads the sheep afield,

  Where grasses grow o'er broken blade;

And toil-worn women till the soil

  O'er human mold, in sunny glade.

The splintered shell and bayonet

  Are lost in crumbling village wall;

No sniper scans the rim of hills,

  No sentry hears the night bird call. 

From blood-wet soil and sunken trench,

   The flowers bloom in summer light;

And farther down the vale beyond,

  The peasant smiles are sad, yet bright.

The wounded Marne is growing green,

  The gash of Hun no longer smarts;

Democracy is born again,

   But what about the troubled hearts?

                                                      —Sgt. Frank Carbaugh

Battle of Marne (detail) by Harvey Dunn (Smithsonian)

The poem imagines a time when peace has returned to the world, yet so many French soldiers have died that women must continue to work in the fields. They till the land that has been fertilized by the bodies of the slain. At the site of the Battle of the Marne, snipers, sentries, and sounds of gunfire have been replaced by the song of night birds and the green of newly grown grass. Though wounded and scarred by battle, the land is healing, and Democracy rises like a phoenix from the ashes. 

 But there are some hurts that can never be healed—the broken hearts of those who mourn.

 “The Fields of the Marne” was first published in Stars and Stripes on 16 August 1918. A brief note under Carbaugh’s name simply stated, “Written while lying wounded in hospital; died August, 1918.”  Franklin L. Carbaugh was 22. Nearly three years later, in May of 1921, his parents met the train that brought their youngest son's body back to Pennsylvania for burial in the family plot at Cedar Hill Cemetery in Franklin County. 

An anonymous source later posted an account of Carbaugh’s death and its effect on the men who knew him to the Benton Scott County Democrat of Benton, Missouri. The details of the story suggest that it was also sent to his mother by those who were with Frank during the last weeks of his life:

Sergeant loses his last fight.

Soldier wins admiration of comrades through cheerfulness in hospital.

He was game till the end.

Four operations were too much for strength of non-com who was wounded in action at Chateau-Thierry.

An American Hospital in France.

"No, they're not going to bring the sergeant back to the ward, boys."

These were exactly the words the nurse used. But the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes said more.

The little group in the ward, which had been playing cards on one of the beds to forget the tension they felt while the sergeant's operation was taking place, stopped suddenly, all attention, all hungering for good news.

"You don't mean the sergeant's gone, do you? exclaimed one.

"Yes, boys, the sergeant's gone. Four operations were just too much for his strength. He never regained consciousness."The little group of patients and the nurse were silent.

The chap with one leg gone had half a deck of cards in his hands. Dazed, he relaxed, and the cards fell to the floor, scattering over half the ward. The chap with one leg gone never noticed them.

"Gee, the sergeant's gone," he said huskily, "He sure was a game boy." 

"He was the best fellow I ever knew," said another, "and the cheerfullest, too. I've seen them dressing his leg time and again, and gosh! but it hurt. But did the sergeant ever say anything? Not the sergeant--he never batted an eye.""Just to think," mused a third, "it wasn't half an hour ago when we saw him go out. I shouted, "Good luck, Sarge," when the stretcher was carried through the door, and he smiled and said, "Thanks, I'll be back in a few minutes with you." 

The sergeant was Frank Carbaugh of Greencastle, Pa., a member of the Seventh Machine-Gun Sanitary detachment. No mother ever reared a braver boy.  The sergeant, who was a mathematics teacher before the war, was wounded when his outfit was rushed into action near Chateau Thierry. None of his bunkies knew just how, because, as one of them explained, "The sergeant wasn't the kind of a fellow who'd talk of himself. You can bet he was wounded doing something for somebody, though."

They did know that the sergeant lay out in the open a long time after he was wounded. Medical records show that his left leg was badly slashed, and they operated at the first hospital he reached. But gangrene had set in, and four operations had followed in an effort to save him. They have had lots of brave patients that doctors and nurses and patients admired alike in that hospital, but never one just like the sergeant, who said little, was always joking and cheerful, and never had a complaint. The rest of the boys in the ward would do anything in the world for "the sarge."

The little group sitting on the cots, with the nurse, had been talking of the sergeant for a long time when one of the boys said, "You ought to write to his mother, Miss Cutter. The sarge thought the world of his mother." " I'm going to," replied the nurse. "You boys write out what you think of the sergeant, and I'll send that, too."

This article by Connie Ruzich was originally published in her own blog Behind Their Lines: Poetry of the Great War (LINK) and by the World War One Centennial Commission.  Images from Find a Grave, the Smithsonian, and Behind Their Lines.

The Birth and Fading Away of France's Union Sacrée

The French people by August  1914 were facing a coming war with shock, sadness, and consternation. But—unbeknownst to most Frenchmen—the process of unifying a French society, long suffering multiple fractures, had subtly begun even before the war or even the assassination of the Archduke. 

On 4 August 1914, President Raymond Poincaré formerly asked political parties, trade unions, and religious groups agreed to set aside their sharp domestic differences, stop strikes, and unite behind the government and military to defend the country against German invasion. French socialists and trade unions, who had previously promised to oppose a capitalist war, chose patriotism over internationalism following the assassination of pacifist leader Jean Jaurès. A key symbolic moment had occurred when France's most ardent nationalists stood alongside Jaurès supporters at his funeral the day before.

The  first sign that the new policy was broadly accepted came immediately, when the French parliament unanimously voted for war credits, with socialists fully backing the national defense effort. This Union sacrée (sacred union) would temporarily bridge the deep gap between the officially secular French Republic and the Catholic Church. As a gesture, in the Chamber of Deputies, Edouard Vaillant, who took part in the Commune, the Paris popular uprising that followed the defeat  of 1870, shook hands for the first time with Albert de Mun, who had  been an officer in the French army that suppressed it.

As the authors of France and the Great War, 1914–1918 observe: "This process began even before the war, with the reconciliation between the army and the Republic.  Peace broke out in 1914 between the Republic and its other great foe in  the Dreyfus Affair, the Catholic Church. Still overwhelmingly Catholic, the French in and out of uniform flocked to churches as mobilization  began. Pope Pius X, with followers on both sides of the war, desperately sought neutrality and issued vain appeals to both sides to make peace.  But French Catholicism rallied to the national cause from the outset." 

A Catholic Priest Serving as a Soldier in the French Army

In  August 1915, the Catholic clerical journal La Revue du Clerge Français  captured the tone of the mobilization perfectly, by effortlessly uniting the  cause of God with the cause of France: "France cannot lose. The world would be denied that of which she is the exquisite  adornment, the Church that of which she is the tireless apostle, and God himself  the service of a generous knight."

Unification also took place in the political sphere. Left-wing parties, trade unions, and socialists agreed to stop striking and support the government. This unity allowed France to mobilize millions of soldiers, while stabilizing the war economy.  Even socialist leaders joined the wartime government cabinet for the first time.

President Raymond Poincaré Visiting the Front

The pure form of Union sacrée, however, did not last the entire war. High casualties and shortages on the home front took a big toll on the nation's morale. By 1917, workers began striking again for better pay and conditions. Defeatists and radicals intensified their corrosive efforts throughout the war years, contributing to the post-Nivelle Offensive mutinies in the ranks. Still, the early months of the sacred union kept France from fracturing from within during the critical opening phase of the war.

Georges Clemenceau had supported the patriotic defense of France against Germany, but he viewed the passive political truce of the Union sacrée as weak and insufficient, arguing that a mere political truce among parties lacked the hard-driving force needed to actually win the war. Upon becoming prime minister in November 1917, he discarded the concept for guerre intégrale (total war), demanding active mobilization, aggressive prosecution of radicals, and zero tolerance for defeatism.

Sources: Encyclopedia 1914-1918; France and the Great War, 1914–1918; Wikipedia; European History, 1890–1945

Rhode Island, USA, Goes to War

Like Much of America, Rhode Island Had Been Caught
Up in the Pre-Entry Preparedness Movement –
Preparedness Event in Providence, 3 June 1916

The State of Rhode Island is smallest U.S. state by area, measuring just 48 miles long and 37 miles wide. Known as the Ocean State, it features roughly 400 miles of coastline. Its capital and largest city is Providence. Its population during the First World War was about 606,000. For World War I, Rhode Island furnished 28,817 servicemen  to the U.S. war effort, with 612 losing their lives. The state served as a vital naval and military hub, particularly through Newport Naval Station, and later faced the devastating impacts of the 1918 Spanish Influenza pandemic. Local civilian volunteers, including staff from Rhode Island Hospital and Brown University, organized ambulance corps and staffed overseas YMCA canteens. 

Military Contributions and Mobilization

Over 28,000 Rhode Islanders served in the Army, Navy, Coast Guard, and Marine Corps. Through the draft and volunteer enlistments, the bulk of these men served throughout the various branches of the Army, the remained in the other services.  With the National Guard deployed, independent chartered organizations like the First Light Infantry stepped up to protect state infrastructure. 

Artillery Piece and Crew from the 103rd FA in France

The unit with the greatest concentration of Rhode Islanders was the 103rd Field Artillery of the new 26th Yankee Division.  The 103rd Field Artillery was formed on 5 August 1917 by combining National Guard Units from Rhode Island, Maine, New Hampshire, and Connecticut.  Rhode Island's Battery A,  had been cited for its work on the Mexican Border incident as "the most efficient National Guard Battery in the United States," and became the nucleus of the regiment's Batteries A, B, and C, and Troop M, Rhode Island cavalry, became its Headquarters company. Added to these were 476 National Guard Coastal  Artillerymen, 246 of them from Rhode Island. The 26th Division was arguably the longest-serving American unit serving on the Western Front fighting in every major campaign of the AEF.

Trainees at Naval Station Newport

The Strategic Importance Importance of Rhode Island to the Nation's War Effort

Narragansett Bay became a massive theater of naval operations. Naval Station Newport served as a major training base for thousands of sailors. Coastal fortifications like Fort Wetherill in Jamestown were aggressively reinforced with heavy artillery to guard against German U-boats, which were actively hunting offshore.  In July 1917, the Navy established a coastal patrol boat base on Block Island at Hog Pen Basin to monitor enemy activity and German U-boats off the New England coast. 

Rhode Island, as a great industrial center, played a large part in increasing war production in which hundreds of companies were involved. Cities like Woonsocket and Pawtucket ran around the clock to produce tons of wool and fabric, famously helping to clothe a vast portion of the U.S. military.  Rhode Island, the "jewelry capital of the world," repurposed its precision manufacturing tools. For example, the Gorham Manufacturing Company paused silver making to produce hand grenades and munitions.

An outstanding example of speeding up the war effort was provided by the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corporation. Starting from scratch on 17 November 1917, the company started constructing a factory at Field's Point in Providence to make large boilers for United States' ships, in short time they had shipped their first boiler and eventually established a speed record of producing a boiler a day.

Victory Parade

World War I Victory Parade, Providence 

On 11 May 1919, Providence, Rhode Island, held a massive spring Victory Parade to welcome home local World War I soldiers and sailors. An estimated 52,000 spectators turned out as military units marched down Washington Street and through Kennedy Plaza (then known as Exchange Place).  A temporary decorative arch was erected in the center of the plaza featuring a replica of the Winged Victory of Samothrace on top. The arch bore the words: "TO THE MEMORY OF THOSE WHO WENT FORTH AND RETURNED NOT WHOSE SOULS ARE MARCHING ON."

The Struggle to Build a War Memorial

Rhode Island's World War One Memorial

With the war over, the leaders of Providence began to consider what would be a suitable memorial to honor those who had defended their country so well. It was first proposed to erect a memorial building with an auditorium, but the price tag of $2,000,000 was too high. Many proposals later, it was finally agreed to have artists and sculptors submit sketches in competition. As a result the design of Paul Philippe Cret for a fluted 150-ft  shaft monument was approved in 1928. At long last, on Armistice Day 1929, the people of Providence gathered in the newly named Memorial Square to join with Senator Jesse H. Metcalf, Governor Norman S. Case, and others, to dedicate this "tribute in granite" in honor the memory of those who had served, and particularly those who had given their lives. The female figure at top represents peace.

Sources:  Rhode Island Yearbook, 1969; Rhode Island A Bibliography of its History — “Rhode Island in World War I”; Small State — Big History; Rhode Island State Archives

Musical Footnotes to a World War

Maurice Ravel at Verdun

One of Maurice Ravel's  last major works was the Piano Concerto in D for the Left Hand, written for the Viennese pianist Paul Wittgenstein (1887–1961), who had lost his right arm in the war.

Edward Elgar wrote his last masterpiece, Concerto for Cello and Orchestra in E minor, Op.85, in 1919 to lament the terrible deaths in the Great War.

The premiere of Gustav Holst's The Planets Suite, with that standard of war film and documentary scores "Mars - The Bringer of War", was held on Sunday, 29 September 1918, in London's Royal Albert Hall.

Weapons of War: The Automatic Pistol Caliber .45, Model 1911 in Action

 

From Gentleman at Arms Jack Savage Wildman

Two Medal of Honor Recipients

On the morning of 8 October 1918, elements of the 328th Infantry, 82nd Division, United States Army, were pinned down by German machine-gun fire. Seventeen men, under the command of Sgt. Bernard Early, were ordered to outflank the machine guns. Shortly after they left their own lines, they came across a German officer and several soldiers having breakfast. Believing that they were surrounded, the Germans surrendered. However, before Early could detach a man to take the prisoners back through the lines, intensive machine gun fire swept the patrol. Eight American soldiers survived. Sgt. Early was seriously wounded. As the remaining non-com, Cpl. Alvin York took command of the patrol. While the remaining Americans covered their prisoners, trying at the same time to avoid enemy fire, York spotted the location of the German guns, about 30 yards away. In addition to his Model 1917 Enfield rifle, he also carried a Colt .45 automatic* pistol. The German gunners peeked over the tops of their Maxim guns to avoid hitting their own men.

* Our readers surely grasp that this weapon is not a true "automatic", i.e., you cannot hold down the trigger and fire off the full clip. However, since the usage applied by the original manufacturer (and by our contributor) was "automatic" rather than the more accurate "semi-automatic" we will not change their terminology.

With the appearance of each face, framed in its "coal-scuttle" helmet, York's Enfield spoke. One shot equaled one dead gunner. York was from the Tennessee mountains, where firearms were used to put food on the table. Mountain folk were frugal, making each shot count.

Unnoticed by York, several Germans moved forward, locating York's position. Out of sight, they counted the shots from York's rifle, establishing the pattern of his shooting. They counted a series of five shots from his Enfield and rushed York to gain the advantage of the few extra seconds it took to reload the rifle.

As the Germans charged, they came into easy pistol range. York brought the .45 automatic into action, stopping the patrol in its tracks. He continued shooting and advancing, killing a total of 25 German soldiers and capturing 132 by himself. York was promoted to Sergeant and awarded the Medal of Honor.

Alvin York and Frank Luke

On 29 September 1918, Second Lieutenant Frank Luke, Jr., of the United States Army's 27th Aero Squadron, flew over an American balloon squadron dropping a note, "Watch for burning (German) balloons" just beyond the German lines. As predicted, observers saw the three explosions of three balloons. Luke did not return. It was not until after the war that a grave's registration unit learned the conclusion of Luke's "3-kill" attack.

After destroying the third balloon, Luke was wounded and his SPAD was so shot up that he could barely control it. Nevertheless, he maneuvered his airplane to strafe German infantry columns. He crash-landed and was immediately surrounded by Germans. Rather than surrender, he drew his .45 automatic pistol and started firing at the Germans. They returned his fire, killing Luke immediately. Frank Luke was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously.

These two events are among the best known involving the use of John Browning's Colt .45 automatic pistol*. This tough, durable pistol has been used by the U.S. Armed Forces for 80 years. Soldiers have sworn by it and sworn at it. It has a heavy slide and bolt that slams back and forth with each shot, in addition to its strong recoil. Many have found it awkward to use. However, with adequate training, it will serve the user very well.

Browning Brothers Gun Shop, Utah Territory, 1882
(John Browning Third from Left)

John Browning's Creation

John Browning was born in 1855, son of a gunsmith, in Ogden, Utah. His rifles, pistols, machine guns and shotguns have dominated the field of fire arms for almost 100 years. It was in 1896 that John and his brother, Matthew, approached the Colt Firearms Company in Hartford, Connecticut. They reached an agreement for Browning to work with Colt as an independent designer of firearms. For the first 15 years, they developed probably the most enduring firearm in military history: the Government Automatic Pistol, Caliber .45. Browning and Colt worked closely with the U.S. Army Ordnance Department. Models were field tested by active-duty soldiers, and extensive laboratory tests were made.

Soldiers stationed in the Philippines reported that the .38 caliber pistol then in use was almost useless against the hard-charging Moros. These tribesmen wrapped themselves in tough leather bindings. Swinging their razor-sharp Kris like a windmill, their bodies absorbed two, three or four shots. On reaching the line of U.S. soldiers, they usually managed to kill one or two soldiers before the .38 shots had their effect and they fell in battle. The soldiers wanted more impact; more stopping power.

In addition to reports from the field, the ordnance department made tests with various cartridges and loads. In order to develop a pistol with the greatest impact possible, studies were made by firing into soft wood, clay, carcasses of animals, human cadavers, and live animals.

A look at the ballistics of the Colt .45 and the Parabellum (Luger) 9 mm cartridge highlights the basic differences of these cartridges.

The Colt .45 bullet is a big, slow-moving projectile. When it strikes a target, a great deal of energy is transferred from the bullet to the target. This provides the "knock-down" quality for which the gun is so famous. Officially adapted by the U.S. Government in 1911, production proceeded at a slow pace. Peacetime budgets are never very large. When the United States entered the Great War, there were about 60,000 Colt .45s on hand. The bulk of them had been manufactured by Colt, with a few thousand manufactured by the U.S. Armory at Springfield, Massachusetts.

Guns made for these production runs were all stamped UNITED STATES PROPERTY on the frame. The slide carried the inscription MODEL OF 1911 U.S. ARMY on both Army and Marine Corps issue. Those manufactured for the Navy were stamped MODEL OF 1911 U.S. NAVY until 1915 when they, too, were labelled US Army. Production runs increased when the Great War started and continued to increase through 1918. By May 1918, it had increased to 1,000 per day. The summer months of 1918 saw an increase to 2,200 per day. The vast majority of these guns were produced by Colt or the U.S. Armory at Springfield, MA. Remington UMC produced about 21,000. Plans were made for many other companies to start production of the .45 automatic, but the war ended before they were tooled up for production. Since the number available for the Doughboys was less than required, the troops in France were also equipped with the less satisfactory Model 1909 Colt .45 revolver.

A number of foreign companies or governments were licensed to manufacture the Colt-Brownings in a variety of calibers. It is interesting to note that Colts at one time were produced under the direction of the Nazi government. In 1915 the Norwegian government was licensed to manufacture the pistols. When Nazi troops occupied Norway in World War II, they ordered the government arsenal to start production. The Nazis planned to use the pistol to arm their occupying forces. However, only about 1,000 guns were produced in 1941 and 1942.

After the Great War, the Army's Ordnance Department evaluated the Colt .45's combat performance. They recommended the following changes:

1. Wider front sight to develop "Patridge-type" of sights, allowing the shooter to quickly align both front and rear sights under various lighting conditions.

2. Longer hammer spur. Both Changes 2 and 3 work together to prevent the web between the thumb and the forefinger being pinched between the hammer and the safety spur when the gun is fired.

3. Longer grip-safety spur.

4. Arched spring housing fills the shooter's hand and checkering backstrap provides a better grip.

5. Relief cuts in the frame around the trigger allowing easier access to the trigger.

6. Shorter trigger with knurled face to avoid the trigger finger from slipping.

These changes were put into production on 15 June 1926 as AUTOMATIC PISTOL, CALIBER .45, MODEL OF 1911A1. This is the version of the weapon displayed at the start of this article.

WWI Era Doughboys with Their Colt .45s

The pistol remained in service through World War II, the Korean War, and the War in Vietnam. The old war-horse proved to be particularly useful in the tunnel fighting that went on in Vietnam.

The enduring reliability of the Browning-Colt .45 military model is reflected in the fact that about 50,000 pistols "disappeared" from the 380,000 made between April 1917 and November 1918. Including prewar production, about 100,000 of the 520,000 pistols bought by the Government disappeared in the total six- ears between the first orders and the conclusion of the war. A good thief knows a good thing when he sees it!

In recent years, the growing need to standardize the ammunition used by all the NATO governments led to selection of the 9 mm Beretta. The Armed Forces are now in a transition period phasing out the old Colts. The U.S. Marine Corps ran tests on the Beretta and found after extensive firing, some of the frames cracked. However, the switch-over continues.

Sources and thanks: Thanks to weapons expert Sam Lisker of the excellent website, coltautos.com, for the Colt .45 illustrations. An earlier version of this article appeared in RELEVANCE, Journal of the Great War Society.

Charlie Chaplin at War

Charlie Chaplin Raising War Funding in The Bond

Charles Spencer Chaplin (1989–1977)  came from a show business family. Charlie was thrown on his own resources before he reached the age of ten as the early death of his father and the subsequent illness of his mother made it necessary for Charlie and his brother, Sydney, to fend for themselves. He was a relatively unknown British stage performer in British music halls when he first arrived in America in 1910 with Fred Karno's vaudeville troupe. American film producer Mack Sennett quickly spotted him as a promising talent and offered him a job. By late 1913 his vaudeville contract commitments had be met, and he signed with Sennett's Keystone Studios.

On the Way to America, Charlie in the Life Preserver

When World War I broke out in August 1914, Charlie Chaplin was still considered a  newcomer at Sennett's operation in California. He had just started his film career a few months prior as he was actively developing his iconic "Little Tramp" persona. The tramp had first appeared in Kid Auto Races at Venice in February 1914. He was an immediate star in America, but distribution of his films to Europe was stalled by the outbreak of war. By 1915, however, his meteoric rise to global fame was well on its way. Before the war's end, he would be operating his own studio.

First Appearance of the Little Tramp, 1914

As a British subject, Charlie Chaplin faced intense public pressure to enlist from his home country and began receiving white feathers, symbolizing cowardice for not fighting. When Great Britain initiated conscription in early 1916, the military did not choose to call him up.  When America entered the war and began its own draft, Charlie dutifully registered, reported for a physical, and was declined on the basis of being underweight. Nonetheless, he faced criticism from factions in both countries—led in England  by the relentlessly jingoistic press of Lord Northcliffe—for the duration of the war and afterwards. None of which came from serving troops, who loved his films. Meanwhile, Charlie fully committed his reputation and enormous show-biz skills to supporting the war effort.

At a Bond Rally in Washington DC, April 1918

Most notably, he produced films and made public appearances in support of the Liberty Bonds program with a strong patriotic themes.  His one contribution that could be labeled as propaganda was a short film titled The Bond. More remembered, is his comedic classic Shoulder Arms, in which Charlie—as his tramp character—joins the AEF and survives boot camp, the army bureaucracy, and the Kaiser and his army. It proved to be his most popular film to date with the returning Doughboys among its biggest fans. His numerous war-supporting public appearances peaked in April 1918.  Chaplin, Mary Pickford, and Douglas Fairbanks dedicated the month to traveling by train across the United States to sell Liberty Bonds.  On 8–9 April 1918, they appeared on Wall Street  outside the Sub-Treasury Building (now Federal Hall), drawing a historic crowd of over 20,000 people.

Shoulder Arms Made Charlie a Millionaire

Post-Armistice, Chaplin had overcome the smear campaign with the white feathers over his war service. Especially in the United States, his cinematic work and relentless war bond fundraising buried the earlier criticism.  For the next half-century, however, controversies of a different sort would follow him. These included high-profile marriages to teenage girls, explosive divorce trials with shocking allegations, a messy paternity suit, and political targeting for his pro-Soviet and Communist advocacy that led to his forced exile from the United States. While on a 1952 sea voyage, he received word that his re-entry permit into the United States had been revoked. He settled in Switzerland for the remainder of his days and died in 1977 on Christmas Day.

Sources:  War History Online; Charliechaplin.com; History.com; Internet Movie Database

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.

Order HERE

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