The Return of “New York’s Own”

"New York's Own"
Two Stalwarts of the 77th Division in France 

By Keith Muchowski

In late March we wrote of New York City’s Madison Square Victory Arch and the homecoming parade for the 27th Division. As spring 1919 proceeded there were similar parades in New York and across the nation for the ever-more arriving troops. It had been a busy six months for Rodman Wanamaker, chairman of  New York City mayor John Hylan’s Committee of Welcome to Homecoming Troops, and his team of nearly 5000. 

Boarding the USS Agamemnon for the Journey Home, 29 April 1919 

From early December 1918 until late April 1919 over 300 ships carrying more than half a million men had arrived in New York Harbor. Nearly all of these returnees received some form of recognition and welcome. For some units this included formal parades. There were at least five full-scale processions, including spectacles for the Harlem Hellfighters in February, the 27th Division in March, and the 69th Infantry Regiment in April. As we noted, the 27th had a raucous, even tragic, welcome home on 25 March in which two parade watchers were trampled to death and almost three dozen injured. Officials had learned their lesson and were determined that when the 77th Division marched six weeks later there would be no repeat. 

Parade Ticket for 6 May 1919

The 27th may have been the “New York Division,” comprised mainly of men from across the Empire State, but the 77th was “New York’s Own,” consisting of recruits primarily from within the five boroughs themselves. The unit was so dynamic that it had not one but two monikers: the “Liberty Division,” complete with a blue-and-gold Statue of Liberty insignia; and more colloquially the “Melting Pot Division,” in recognition of the “hyphenated-Americans” who made up such a large percentage of the men. Many in the ranks of the 77th were either immigrants or first-generation Americans whose parents were born in the old countries. These boys hailed from Little Italy, the Lower East Side, and other ethnic enclaves, where they grew up living in tenements, playing in the streets, and swimming in the East River. All told, over two dozen nationalities were represented within the Liberty Division.

It wasn’t just their backgrounds and many languages spoken that captured the public’s interest; the Liberty Division fought in some of the hardest-fought campaigns of the Great War, including in the Oise-Aisne and Meuse-Argonne Offensives. By Armistice Day nearly 2,000 were killed and four times that number wounded. The division included the Lost Battalion, the romanticized unit in which Major Charles W. Whittlesey and the 500-plus men under his command were trapped behind enemy lines, hunkered down under German fire, and separated from their own division, for five harrowing days.

The 77th Division Passing Through the Madison Square Victory Arch

After threat of inclement spring weather things cleared on the morning of Tuesday 6 May 1919 in time for the 27,000 men of the 77th Division to parade before a crowd estimated at two million. Not that all of the parade watchers got to see the procession. Fearing a re-occurrence of the the tragedies that marred 27th Division’s parade, police blocked off numerous sight lines and kept hundreds of thousands of viewers behind barriers, sometimes too far away even to glimpse the marchers as they wound their way from Washington Square Park up Fifth Avenue to 110th Street where Central Park ends. There were many complaints later but thankfully no repeat of the events of 25 March. Those who could see [through the crowd] witnessed the soldiers passing “in compact formation, one mass of men, following another, turning the great highway into a river running bank-full with olive drab and steel” as the New York Times described it in the next day’s edition.

In reference to the “melting pot” nature of the division the Times averred that the parade was a “Wonderful Demonstration of [the] War’s Americanization” and added further down that “These New York boys, though drawn from nearly every race on earth, made a dashing and magnificent picture.” The reporter singled out Sing Kee, “the highly Americanized Color Sergeant of the 308th Infantry,” for special praise. (See photo below.) Lau Sing Kee, as was his full name, was a Chinese-American and Californian who earned the Purple Heart, Distinguished Service Cross, and Croix de Guerre for his actions in the Argonne, where he remained at his post for three days despite being gassed and shelled intensely.

The Divisional Color Guard

The parade for the 77th Division in early May 1919 was the last large-scale Great War commemoration in New York City and signaled the end of a particular moment in the history of the conflict. By mid-spring most Doughboys were stateside and, if not officially discharged, then on the verge of mustering out. While all this was going on, negotiators in Paris were brokering the Versailles Treaty. Victors and vanquished signed the controversial agreement in the Palace’s Hall of Mirrors on 28 June, opening a new chapter in the war’s complicated legacy.

Keith Muchowski, an academic librarian, public historian, and professor at New York City College of Technology (CUNY) in Brooklyn, recently completed a manuscript about Civil War Era New York City. He blogs at thestrawfoot.com.

Our Monthly World War One Online Newsletter

Our May 2019 issue of the St. Mihiel Trip-Wire is now available at:

http://www.worldwar1.com/tripwire/smtw.htm

(Click Refresh/Reload if the May issue does not appear.)

American Troops Parading in Vladivostok, Russia

This month's issue contains material on:

1.  We have a number of articles and images on the Paris Peace Conference and Versailles.

2.  Behind the Literary Lines: Jame Joyce at War

3.  Film Classic: La Grande Illusion

4.  A Detail from the Pantheon de la Guerre

5.  Failed Field Marshal Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf

6. General Oskar Von Hutier and the Legend of Hutier Tactics

7. Cartoon: "Mars, God of War, Vanquished"

8. American Women Go to the Battlefields

9. Our usual features, including my Editor's Log in which I editorialize on the Peace Conference

10.  Ways to subscribe to Worldwar1.com's free publications

This Month's Recommended WWI Flick

Also, please note that our Musical CD and Over the Top Magazine Complete Collection DVD can be ordered through the website.  This is your opportunity to support our efforts in providing this otherwise free body of World War One material in the Trip-Wire and our daily blog Roads to the Great War.

Have a great springtime,

Mike and the Editorial Team

Remembering a Veteran: Major Carl A. (Tooey) Spatz, U.S. Air Service

General Carl A. Spaatz was the first chief of staff of the U.S. Air Force, Washington, D.C.  He started his career in 1914 as an infantryman, but transferred quickly to the budding army air operation — just in time to serve in the Great War.

The general was born in 1891, in Boyertown, Pa. In 1910, he was appointed to the U.S. Military Academy. He graduated June 12, 1914, and was commissioned a second lieutenant of Infantry. He served with the 25th United States Infantry at Schofield Barracks, Hawaii, from Oct. 4, 1914, to Oct. 13, 1915, when he was detailed as a student in the Aviation School at San Diego, Calif., until May 15, 1916. 

In June 1916, General Spaatz was assigned at Columbus, N.M., and served with the First Aero Squadron under Gen. John J. Pershing in the Punitive Expedition into Mexico. He was promoted to first lieutenant July 1, 1916, in May 1917 joined the Third Aero Squadron in San Antonio, Texas, and in the same month was promoted to captain. 

General Spaatz went to France with the American Expeditionary Forces in command of the 31st Aero Squadron and, after 15 November 1917, served in the American Aviation School at Issoudun continuously, except for one month at the British Front, until 30 August 1918. In this period, he received a temporary promotion to major. 

He joined the Second Pursuit Group in September 1918, as pursuit pilot in the Thirteenth Squadron, and was promoted to flight leader. He was officially credited with shooting down three Fokker planes, and received the Distinguished Service Cross. In 1919 he served in California and Texas and became assistant department air service officer for the Western Department in July 1919. He reverted to his permanent rank of captain on 27 February 1920 but was promoted to major on 1 July 1920. Spaatz became a brilliant innovator between the wars, commanded strategic bombers in two WWII theaters, and eventually earning the post of first chief of staff of the U.S. Air Force.

The Battle of Mont St. Quentin-Peronne, 1918,

By Michele Bomford

Big Sky Publishing, 2015
Peter L. Belmonte, Reviewer

Australian Troops Approach the Crest of Mont St. Quentin

Lost between what many consider the turning point of the war, the Second Battle of the Marne in July 1918, and the start of Marshal Ferdinand Foch's big push beginning with the American attack in the Meuse-Argonne in late September, is the Australian attack on Mont St. Quentin-Peronne on the Somme river in late August to early September. Bracketed as it was by French, American, and British successes in July and August, and the start of the final push, it's easy to understand why the relatively small-scale offensive has not been given much attention. Australian historian Michele Bomford handily rectifies that situation with this fine book, a revision and expansion of her previous work, and a part of the Australian Army Campaign Series, published by the Australian Army History Unit in Canberra.

Bomford covers in detail the series of attacks by the Australian Corps against the German positions in the Mont St. Quentin-Peronne area from about 30 August through 5 September. The author rightly states that by this time the nature of the war had changed. The Allies were now on the offensive, and "open warfare" was to be the order of the day. This represented a departure from the standard practice of Lieutenant General Sir John Monash's Australian Corps. This would not be a "set-piece battle devised after days or perhaps weeks of meticulous planning and which utilized every available mechanical resource then available to the Allies on the Western Front" (p. vi). Rather, this was to be a mobile, free-flowing series of quick attacks.

Monument to the Australian 2nd Division on  Mont St. Quentin

This book can be considered a primer on the Australian military in 1918. The author assesses Australian command and staff structure and concludes that by August 1918 it was operating at peak efficiency. Australian tactics had evolved to better operate in a mobile warfare environment. Bomford includes full-page "side bars" of weapons including rifles, bayonets, machine guns, hand grenades, mortars, artillery pieces, and airplanes. She also emphasizes the accomplishments of junior officers and enlisted men, rightly giving them credit for initiative and perseverance. Accordingly, the author records specific acts that earned men the Victoria Cross, the United Kingdom's highest award for battlefield bravery. Many men are highlighted in sidebars. Bomford also provides a brief but interesting analysis of how British commanders viewed this battle and its place in the larger events of August and September 1918.

It is interesting to note that even at this late stage in the war the Australians experienced some of the same problems that the Americans, comparative newcomers, experienced. Poor command and control, insufficient and often ineffective artillery support, tactics issues, and out of touch commanders, all plagued the Australians to varying degrees during these battles, yet Bomford retains the proper perspective and does not indulge in unrealistic criticism. Frankly, American historians can learn a lesson from this author's circumspection and understanding of the problems that confronted Great War commanders.

Those who appreciate good maps in military history books will be absolutely delighted with this book. Several large-scale maps highlight the action and make the narrative easy to visualize. The only real drawback to this book is its lack of end notes. Usually, but not always, a reader can easily determine the origin of a quotation in the text. Those who like to read about small-unit actions will enjoy this book that often covers the battle, fought by an entire corps, at the battalion level. This book is highly recommended as an important and readable addition to World War I historiography; it well illustrates a battle that could be considered comparatively small but important.

Peter L. Belmonte

Ireland's First World War Veterans: Shunned, Ostracized, Murdered

A Battalion of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers Stands Inspection in France

Over 200,000 Irishmen served in the British Army in the war. Ex-British servicemen and their dependents constituted half a million people in the Republic of Ireland, a State of just 3.3 million. For the Irish who returned home, their fate was compounded by the political situation. These men were shunned, ostracized from Irish society and in many cases murdered by the IRA, but that is only part of the story. The fate of ex-British servicemen after the war has been the subject of fierce debate. Approximately 120 were killed during the War of Independence and Civil War. Were they killed because of their service in the first World War?

The historian Peter Hart, in his book The IRA and its Enemies, suggested as much. Paul Taylor, the recent author of the book Heroes or Traitors? Experiences of Southern Irish Soldiers Returning from the Great War, 1919–39, maintains instead that they were targeted for being loyalists rather than ex-British servicemen.

Dublin Armistice Day, 1924
A Celtic Cross War Memorial to Be Sent to France Is Dedicated

Yet, other First World War veterans went straight into the Irish Volunteers/IRA after returning from the front, taking up arms against the army they had fought for. The best known of these was Tom Barry, mastermind of the Kilmichael Ambush in Co Cork in 1920. According to historian Stephen O’Connor, 226 members of the British forces served in the IRA during the War of Independence. More significantly, O’Connor estimates, at least 24 had senior positions and seven commanded brigades. O’Connor concludes: “Ex-servicemen had a disproportionate impact on the IRA’s campaign in comparison to their actual numbers in the movement.”

Source: The Irish Times, 10 November 2018

The French-Kitchener Meeting of 1 September 1914

Sir John French and the Earl Kitchener

One of the most momentous meetings of the Great War occurred just before the Battle of the Marne and may have been utterly essential for its success.  The key participants were two British field marshals. The BEF commander, Field Marshal Sir John French, concerned at heavy British losses at the Battle of Le Cateau, was considering withdrawing his forces from the Allied line. By 31 August 1914 Joffre, President Poincaré (relayed via Bertie, the British Ambassador) and Minister of War Field Marshal Herbert Horatio Kitchener (1st Earl Kitchener of Khartoum) sent him messages urging him not to do so. Kitchener, authorized by a midnight meeting of whichever Cabinet ministers could be found, left for France for a meeting with Sir John on 1 September.

As the retreat from Mons had continued, Sir John French had slipped deeper and deeper into what certainly appears to have been  depression.  There is no doubt that he was mercurial,  and  exaggerated  casualty  figures  from  Le  Cateau  were  certainly worrisome.  His  orders  specified that although he was to cooperate with the French, he was not to put the B.E.F. at risk of destruction if he could possibly avoid doing so.  His trust in the French was shaken by what he regarded as a tendency to retreat without warning, thus leaving the flanks of the B.E.F. uncovered. His  command of the French language was not good and interviews with Allied commanders had not improved relations. Convinced  that  disaster  loomed,  he  resolved  to  remove  the B.E.F. from  the  battle  line  for  regrouping,  reinforcement,  and  resupply. The French, desperately trying to cobble together a resistance and desperate to organize a counter-thrust, were appalled. Sir John was unmoved and drove his men to the point that medical reports told of threads  in heavy knit socks having literally to be pulled from the flesh of wearers' feet. He  intended  to  move  the  B.E.F.  to  safety behind Paris.  The two best biographers of Sir John French are George Cassar and Richard Holmes, and although both show respect and sympathy for him, neither offers much defense beyond depression for his actions in the retreat from Mons.

The man who had to sort out the situation was Britain's best-known soldier at the beginning of World War I—Field Marshal Herbert Horatio Kitchener, who had been appointed Secretary of State for War  on 7 August  1914.  It was to him that Allied pleas for the B.E.F. to stand its ground went, and he was French's political boss.  His attitude about French was less than enthusiastic.  French  felt that Kitchener treated him virtually as a subordinate in the field and had ideas of taking command.  On  1 September,  Kitchener went to Paris and wearing his full field marshal's regalia, met with French and effectively ended the  retreat. French,  in  his  memoir of 1914  condemns  Kitchener  for undermining  his  authority  and  asserts  (French's  is  the  only  account  of  the conversation) that Kitchener actually approved of the retreat. Although French has some support, most of those who have discussed the situation have agreed that Kitchener was simply trying to put some starch into French and get the B.E.F.  back  into  the  battle. The result was that the B.E.F. reversed its direction and moved into the Battle of the Marne.

Sources: The Battles of the British Expeditionary Forces: 1914–1915, Fred R. van Hartesveldt; Wikipedia

World War I Battlefield Surgery: Outstanding Video from Britain's National Army Museum

Captured at Kut-al-Amara: A Letter from a Prisoner of War

Column of Prisoners Taken at Kut-al-Amara

The author of this letter, Captain Ian Martin, served as a doctor with the Indian Medical Service in the First World War and in late 1915 was based in the town of Kut-al-Amara, 100 miles south of Baghdad.

Early military successes in Mesopotamia had fostered a belief that Baghdad could be captured with relative ease, but Major General Charles Townshend’s 6th (Poona) Division of the Indian Army failed to seize the city from the Ottoman forces and retreated to Kut. The Turks besieged the town on 7 December 1915, and the blockade remained in place when Captain Martin began his letter dated 1 April 1916.

It is an occupation rather suited for All Fool’s Day to sit down to write letters when it is by no means certain that the said epistles will ever leave Kut… I have put off writing so long that I have reached the stage of being thoroughly bored with the siege and all that pertains to it. The four months of our investment are in retrospect like the troubled night of a fevered sleeper.

The beginning of the siege with its incessant rabble of musketry and crash of shells came as a douche of cold reality on our peaceful hospital. For at first we who had remained at Kut throughout the advance on Baghdad, the fight at Ctesiphon and the sullen retreat to the shelter of the river loop, had found it almost impossible to get hold of what really was happening. The arriving army, on the contrary, jaded and spiritless though it appeared to be, was yet more than awake to the true state of things. So Townshend and his men settled down in a methodical fashion to dig themselves in.

Two days after the last of the army had straggled in the first of the enemy shells began to arrive. Since then scarcely a day — I can recall none — has passed without several of these messengers of fear and hate. Every day the investing line crept closer; every day the bombardment of the town became heavier. Every night at dusk and each morning at dawn the crackle of musketry grew into a roar — continuous but varying curiously in intensity — it comes to the ear in regularly recurring waves of sound rather like the whirling of a gigantic policeman’s rattle, punctuated freely by the muffled boom of our field guns firing star shells.

Soldiers of the 6th Poona Division in Captivity

Finishing with an abrupt postscript scrawled in a shaky hand and dated 15 July 1916, Captain Martin was now a prisoner of the Turks.

The forebodings in the opening page of this letter have proved too horribly true. Here I am after much journeying and many tribulations sitting in my blanket shelter at (a camp whose name I forget) about three days march from Ras-al-Ain which is the southern terminus of the still incomplete Baghdad–Aleppo railway. At my feet runs a little muddy stream almost dry — around and upon my feet are myriad of insects — mostly biting flies, but including some thousands of ants, great and small — houseflies, big horseflies and several unknown and noxious small species. Overhead the Eastern Sun, smiting me through my thin blankets — which are disposed upon sticks about six inches above my head. I eat weird oriental food cooked in a fashion by my Indian orderly. But you must excuse me, for a gust has blown my shelter down! I shall resume another day…

Survivors of the Captivity on Their Way Home, 1919

The siege ended on 29 April with the surrender of the now starving British and Indian troops, after 147 days. Approximately 13,000 soldiers were captured and were to endure terrible conditions of deprivation as prisoners of war. 

Note: The Editor has been unable to discover whether Capt. Martin survived his captivity.

Source: The Telegraph, 1 February 2014

WWI: When the Wristwatch Routed the Pocket Watch

The wristwatch was invented by Patek Philippe at the end of the 19th century. It was, however, considered a woman's accessory. It was not until the beginning of the 20th century that the Brazilian inventor Alberto Santos-Dumont, who had difficulty checking the time while in his first aircraft (Dumont was working on the invention of the aeroplane), asked his friend Louis Cartier for a watch he could use more easily. Cartier gave him a leather-band wristwatch from which Dumont never separated. Being a popular figure in Paris, Cartier was soon able to sell these watches to other men. 

During the First World War, officers in all armies soon discovered that in battlefield situations, quickly glancing at a watch on their wrist was far more convenient than fumbling in their jacket pockets for an old-fashioned pocket watch. In addition, as increasing numbers of officers were killed in the early stages of the war, NCOs promoted to replace them often did not have pocket watches (traditionally a middle-class item out of the reach of ordinary working-class soldiers) and so relied on the army to provide them with timekeepers. 

As the scale of battles increased, artillery and infantry officers were required to synchronize watches in order to conduct attacks at precise moments, while artillery officers were in need of a large number of accurate timekeepers for range-finding and gunnery. Army contractors began to issue reliable, cheap, mass-produced wristwatches, which were ideal for these purposes. When the war ended, demobilized European and American officers were allowed to keep their wristwatches, helping to popularize the items among middle-class Western civilian culture. Today, many Westerners wear watches on their wrists, a direct result of the First World War.

Sources: Wikipedia,  The Answer Bag, WWI Centennial Commission

“WOODBINE WILLY” -- By David F. Beer

Before the First World War broke out, the Reverend Geoffrey Anketell Studdert Kennedy was a fairly obscure Church of England vicar—probably more notable for the rather magnificent name he bore than for much else. At the outbreak of war in 1914 he left his parish and volunteered as an army chaplain, serving in that position for the duration of the conflict.  In 1917 he was awarded the Military Cross at Messines Ridge after running into no-man's-land to help the wounded during an attack on the German front lines. 

He was a comforting and practical padre in the trenches and came to intimately know the futility and horror of battle and the strengths and fears of the fighting men. He accepted the soldiers as they were, and besides comforting and helping them when he could, he made it a point to have ample supplies of cigarettes on hand to generously dole out, especially to wounded soldiers. The brand of choice was Woodbines, one of the most common "fags" in England, and thus he acquired the nickname of "Woodbine Willy" on the Western Front.

Because of his war poems and the reputation he earned among the troops as a chaplain, we remember his wartime activities in those two contexts. He was above all an enthusiastic supporter of the common soldier. Many poems were written in a distinctly working-class dialect, as illustrated by some stanzas from “The Spirit”:

When the Boche has done your chum in,
And the sergeant's done the rum in,
And there ain't no rations comin',
Carry on.

When the world is red and reeking,
And the shrapnel shells are shrieking,
And your blood is slowly leaking,
Carry on.

When the broken battered trenches,
Are like the bloody butchers' benches,
And the air is thick with stenches,
Carry on….

Although this poem may sound jingoistic and Kiplingesque, there’s no question about its clarity and its catching rhythm reminiscent of a concert hall song. The realities of trench life are also prominent in the poem, just as they are reflected by the attitude of casual death in a much shorter poem, “The Sniper”:

There's a Jerry over there, Sarge !
Can't you see 'is big square 'ead ?
If 'e bobs it up again there,
I'll soon nail 'im - nail 'im dead.
Gimme up that pair o' glasses
And just fix that blinkin' sight,
Gawd ! that nearly almost got 'im,
There 'e is now - see ? 'Arf right.
If 'e moves again I'll get 'im,
Take these glasses 'ere and see,
What's that ? Got 'im through the 'ead, Sarge ?
Where's my blarsted cup o' tea ? 

Dialect isn’t necessary for Studdert Kennedy’s poetry to be effective, though, and most of his poems aren’t written in it. “War” is a short poem that looks at a broader situation than the trenches alone and makes its tragic point quite clearly:

There's a soul in the Eternal,
Standing stiff before the King.
There's a little English maiden
Sorrowing.
There's a proud and tearless woman,
Seeing pictures in the fire.
There's a broken battered body
On the wire. 

Similarly, his shortest poem, "A Scrap of Paper," carries a world of empathy:

Just a little scrap of paper

In a yellow envelope,

And the whole world is a ruin,

Even Hope.

It’s not surprising that as a clergyman Studdert Kennedy often worked Christian imagery and allusions into his war verse. Later he was to write prose works arguing the validity of Christianity after the horrors of the war, but at the front it was easier to simply see the sorrows of the suffering Christ, which he did successfully in a long poem, “Dead and Buried.” The first two stanzas make this painfully clear:

I have borne my cross through Flanders,

Through the broken heart of France,

I have borne it through the deserts of the East;

I have wandered, faint and longing,

Through the human host that, thronging,

Swarmed to glut their grinning idols with a feast.

I was crucified in Cambrai,

And again outside Bapaume;

I was scourged for miles along the Albert Road,

I was driven, pierced and bleeding,

With a million maggots feeding

On the body that I carried as my load.

Here as elsewhere in his poetry we see Christ as the soldier—the Christ-soldier if you will. What’s so impressive is that Studdert Kennedy never delivered a simplistic moralist theology in his verse (or indeed his sermons) as plenty of clergy at the time did. Much of his poetry is concerned not with religious questions but with very human ones. And he can also express his ultimate feelings:

Waste of Muscle, waste of Brain,
Waste of Patience, waste of Pain,
Waste of Manhood, waste of Health,
Waste of Beauty, waste of Wealth,
Waste of Blood, and waste of Tears,
Waste of Youth’s most precious years,
Waste of ways the saints have trod,
Waste of glory, waste of God, -
                   War!                           

Studdert Kennedy’s poems appeared in two collections, Rough Rhymes of a Padre (1918), and More Rough Rhymes (1919).  In 1927 all 105 poems were published as The Unutterable Beauty. Although these books were out of print for decades, they’re now available again as reprints and make for truly thoughtful and evocative reading. A biography, A Seeker After Truths: The Life and Times of G. A. Studdert Kennedy ('Woodbine Willie') 1883–1929, by Linda Parker, was published in 2018.

After the war, Woodbine Willy traded the trenches for the slums and worked, wrote, and preached tirelessly on behalf of the poorest of British society. His early death in 1929, reportedly from asthma and exhaustion, was lamented by countless ex-soldiers and others. At his funeral his coffin was covered in packages of Woodbines. 

An early version of this article appeared in the September 2013 issue of Over the Top Magazine.

Canada and the Battle of Vimy Ridge

Brereton Greenhous and Stephen J. Harris

Canadian Dept. of Supply and Services, 1992
James Patton, Reviewer

Canadian Soldiers View Petit Vimy Village from Atop the
 Secured Vimy Ridge

When I selected this book for review I was expecting to read a new look at an old subject written from a bold perspective by a couple of Oxonian or Cantabrigian revisionists. Was I ever surprised! What I received was written by two staff historians at the Canadian Department of National Defence, Directorate of History and Heritage (DHH), to recognize the 75th anniversary of the battle. It also turned out that the perspective isn't modern, refreshing, or revisionist, but it's decidedly Canadian. The authors acknowledge that their primary source was the official Canadian Expeditionary Force, 1914–1919, written under the direction of Col. G.W.I. Nicholson and published by the government in 1962.

Of particular note, Brereton "Ben" Greenhous (1929–2005) was born in the UK, served in the British Army, the Royal Malayan Police and the Canadian Army before earning a BA and an MA from Canadian universities. Although not of high pedigree, he was a serious historian. During his long career at the DHH he produced 11 books, collaborated on over 20 more and wrote 26 articles for the Canadian Encyclopedia, among others. His last work (2002) was The Making of Billy Bishop, a massively revisionist portrait of the Canadian VC holder and WWII air marshal. When promoting this work, Greenhous delivered this sound bite—"Billy Bishop was a very brave man and a very bold liar."

At the beginning of the book the authors cite the following quote from The Image of Confederation by the noted Canadian historian, academic and journalist F.H. Underhill (1889–1971)—"A nation is a body of people who have done great things together in the past and who expect to do great things together in the future."

The first 83 pages of the book deal with the formation of the Canadian Expeditionary Force (CEF), which made an indelible imprint on Canadian nation-building, especially among the Anglophones, by the intermingling of men from all parts of the country. Despite the incessant meddling of the politician Sir Sam Hughes, the Minister of Militias (who was finally sacked by Prime Minister Sir Robert Borden in November 1916), the CEF quickly became an effective force, then grew from one division to four, finally grouped as the Canadian Corps.

There was the heroism and distinguished service in engagements in the Ypres Salient, on the Somme in the latter stages of that offensive and then the Corps' first exclusive operation, a victory at Vimy Ridge, a sector of the line where the German defense had withstood two massive French assaults in 1915. There would be much more to come before the Armistice.

Canadians Experiencing Hot Coffee and Mud

The Corps meticulously planned and prepared for the Vimy Ridge assault. The authors point out that the Canadians had certain advantages when serving together:

British divisions were continually being shuffled about within their various corps formations for reasons of immediate military convenience… so there was no standardization or continuity in their armies above the divisional level. The four Canadian divisions … would be held together for the remainder of the war: and other things being equal, a corps consisting of divisions trained by different criteria to different standards was not as likely to do as well in battle as one with divisions boasting a common interpretation of doctrine and similar standards of training. Moreover, because Canadians were kept together their divisional and corps staffs came to know each other's strengths and weaknesses very well, and that made for better, more effective and more effort-free performance all around.

A series of trench raids, some large in scale, were staged by both sides in the early months of 1917. One of these, a two-battalion operation on 1 March against Hill 145 cost the attackers nearly 700 casualties (including both battalion commanders) for a net of 37 prisoners. Afterwards the Germans offered a truce to recover the dead and wounded from the battlefield, in defiance of standing orders issued by both sides, and on the morning of 3 March 1917, soldiers from both sides mingled in the no-man's-land for two hours. Capt. D.S. Elliott (temporarily commanding 73rd Battalion CEF) found himself in conversation with a Bavarian major educated in London who told Elliott "how [strange] it would be to go back to our different lines and pot at one another again." Elliott also wrote, "The whole affair seemed so queer, standing upright out there in broad daylight, without a shot being fired, that it seemed to most of us like a dream."

Inspecting a German Bunker on Vimy Ridge

Vimy Ridge was one of the last old school offensives launched by the British, an assault on line "leaning on the barrage," but with one important difference. The General Orders stated as follows:

In the event of any division or brigade being held up, the units on the flanks will on no account check their advance, but will form defensive flanks in that direction and press forward themselves so as to envelop the strong point or centre of resistance which is preventing the advance. With this object in view reserves will be pushed in behind those portions of the line that are successful rather than those which are held up.

On Easter Monday, 1917, the execution of the plan was good, the soldiers tenacious; the Germans were surprised and outnumbered, their reserves were too far behind the front, and the Corps achieved a complete success, albeit at a high cost for a country the size of Canada. The whole Douai Plain lay below, but there were no reserves to exploit the gain. If only the French had done so well at the Chemin des Dames!

There are plenty of quotes from the journals and letters of soldiers, including in particular co-author Harris's grandfather, brick layer Pvt. Jack Harris, 4th Canadian Mounted Rifles (who weren't mounted). He served with the Canadian Corps from the Somme to the finish and died in 1972. Personal touches were added by these sources, including detail about casualties, terrain conditions, and the weather.

Canada and the Battle of Vimy Ridge is not as much about the battle or even the victory as it is about the emergence of Canada from the Imperial shadow to be a distinct nation, a people that had done great things, just as Underhill predicted. The book is a quick and worthwhile read, if only for the photographs and the aforementioned map. It's a 196-page coffee table book, with ten blank pages at the end, perhaps for writing notes? There are over 125 photographs, most of which I've never seen before, and an absolutely incredible centerfold-style map drawn by a government cartographer. There was only one printing, and the copy that I have was signed by both authors. Nevertheless, the work is still available (as a PDF) from the Canadian Government Publications Office HERE.

James Patton

What Was the Fokker Scourge?

Fokker's Eindecker E.III in Flight

Up to early 1915, aerial fights between aircraft usually involved rifles or pistols; occasionally, a machine gun was fired by the observer. The challenge of fixing a forward-facing machine gun able to fire without damaging the propeller on tractor-configured aircraft (i.e. engine and propeller in front) proved difficult.

All the major combatants attempted to solve this problem. Captain Lanoe Hawker of the Royal Flying Corps fixed a Lewis machine gun to the struts of his Bristol Scout so that it fired obliquely away from the propeller. With this strange arrangement he managed to destroy or capture several aircraft, including two in one day, earning himself the first Victoria Cross for aerial combat and the distinction of being the first British ace (a pilot responsible for destroying more than five aircraft). The British got round the problem for a time by developing fighters with the pusher configuration. Meanwhile, Frenchman Roland Garros developed a deflector system in which the bullets glanced off metal plates and away from the propeller. Garros and his machine were captured and examined by the Germans in April. Dutch designer Anthony Fokker as a result produced a much better (and safer) solution, developing interrupter gear which synchronized the fire of the machine gun with the engine, allowing the bullets to pass between the blades safely.

Depiction of an Early Dogfight at New Zealand's Omaka
Aviation Heritage Centre
A Fokker E.III Monoplane Attacking a British Airco DH.2 biplane over the Western Front

From mid-1915, Fokker’s innovation gave the German Imperial Air Service a decisive edge in aerial combat. The Fokker Eindecker series of aircraft were unremarkable in terms of performance but were nevertheless the first true fighter aircraft. German pilots could use the aeroplane itself as a weapon, aiming the whole aircraft at the target. Operating individually or in small groups in the hands of skilled pilots such as Max Immelmann and Oswald Boelcke, Eindeckers were very effective against poorly armed French and British aircraft such as the BE.2 and Voisins. Allied air losses rose sharply between late 1915 and mid-1916, a period known as the "Fokker Scourge."  The Royal Flying Corps lost 120 aircraft in the second half of 1915 alone. There was little the Allies could do to match these first German aces, and sometimes a single reconnaissance aircraft had to be protected by many others to ensure a successful mission.

The Fokker Scourge was the first in a series of technological developments through which one side gained a temporary edge over the other in the air.

Sources:  NZ History; Wikipedia

The Liman von Sanders Affair

Liman von Sanders

The last great diplomatic crisis before the Great War took place in late 1913 and early 1914. It exacerbated German-Russian tensions and also stressed the emerging Triple Entente of Russia, Great Britain, and France. At the center of the brouhaha was a German general named Liman von Sanders, whose name was later attached to this "Affair."

After their dismal performance in the recent wars in the Balkans and Libya, the Young Turks controlling the Ottoman Empire went shopping for military expertise and decided that Germany offered the best model for their army. The appointment of von Sanders to lead a mission for upgrading the Turkish Army was announced in November 1913. His portfolio, however, went beyond advising and training. Part of his scope of duties was the command of a Turkish army corps in Constantinople. This triggered a ferocious response from the Russians, who a) had their eyes on the Straits for access to the Mediterranean, and were secretly considering military options for seizing them, and b) did not want the Germans to be gaining a military foothold and political influence in the "Sick Man of Europe." 

Russia decided to test its putative allies in Paris and London and asked them to join in energetic action against the German military mission. The British, though, found themselves somewhat embarrassed, since they had agreed to a similar role for the Turkish Navy. Additionally, both France and Britain did not want to risk war. Both governments stipulated diplomatic support only. 

Von Sanders Arrives in Constantinople, December 1913

By January—with the Russians gritting their teeth—a deal was brokered where General von Sanders's direct command of the army corps was taken away from him by kicking him upstairs to the office of Inspector General of the Turkish Army.

Immediately afterward, it seemed like the crisis had passed and that diplomatic methods had once again defused a potential war. Yet, the Kaiser and Tsar both believed they had once again been forced to back down. Also, France was compelled to spend much of early 1914 reassuring the Russians that they would be stalwart allies in any future confrontations, culminating with President Poincaré's fence-mending visit to Russia in the middle of the July Crisis. 

Sources: British Foreign Policy 1874-1914: The Role of India by Sneh Mahajan (Smuts 1918, Clavin 2013).

Remembering a Veteran: John F. Elkington of the Royal Warwickshires and 1er Régiment étranger d'infanterie

Contributed by James Patton

The Royal Warwickshire Regiment dated from 1674. Originally formed for service in the Netherlands, the regiment was nicknamed the "Dutch Guards" by King William III. They gained Royal status in 1832. The badge bears the image of a "Hart, Ducally Gorged and Chained," a symbol of the House of Lancaster. The record of their service reads like the history of the British Army for nearly 300 years. They raised 30 battalions in the Great War, including three "Birmingham Pals." The regiment was amalgamated in 1968, and their heritage is now with the Fusiliers. 

Lt. Col. John F. Elkington

The 1st Battalion of the regiment arrived in France in August 1914 under the command of Lt. Col. John F. Elkington. It was an experienced Regular battalion, and Lt. Bernard Montgomery was the adjutant.  They went into action at Le Cateau, taking heavy casualties. At the rear of the fallback, the remnant of this battalion, along with that of the 2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers, plus an assortment of unruly stragglers, found themselves in the Grande Place of St. Quentin. Rail transport had been promised there, but none was available. Having covered over 20 miles, the soldiers refused to walk any more. Further complicating the situation was the availability of alcohol. 

Elkington and the CO of the "Dubs," Lt. Col. Arthur Mainwaring (a noted cricket player of the 1890s), asked Mayor Arthur Gibert for help in organizing food, medical supplies, and transportation. But M. Gibert had heard the stories coming from Belgium and was terrified that the city would be destroyed by the Germans with great loss of life. He urged the British commanders to join him in surrendering. Having heard vague reports that German troops were encircling the city, and with their men in no condition either to fight or move on, the exhausted officers signed on to Gibert's surrender document. Elkington then left on a recce to find additional soldiers. Mainwaring incredibly ordered the men to stack their arms. 

However, before any Germans could be found to surrender to, a troop of the 4th Royal Irish Dragoon Guards came along. Their CO, Major GTM Bridges, recalled later: "The men in the square were so jaded it was pathetic to see them. If one only had a band, I thought! Why not? There was a toy shop handy, which provided my trumpeter and myself with a tin whistle and a drum, and we marched round the fountain, where the men were lying like the dead, playing the British Grenadiers and Tipperary and beating the drum like mad. They sat up and began to laugh and cheer." The Dragoons were eventually able to coax about 440 soldiers out of the city on a 24 hour slog to Noyon, another 20 miles, where trains were available. 

On 30 October Elkington and Mainwaring were "cashiered"—dismissed in disgrace. Mainwaring withdrew to private life in England, where he wrote a fussy memoir before his death in 1930; while Elkington, according to a friend, said "there is still the Foreign Legion," and he "set out to make good a name that he felt needed cleansing." 

And so the 1st Royal Warwicks soldiered on. Lt. Montgomery didn't spend the war in a POW camp, but was wounded on 13 October, and by Christmas the battalion was ineffective. 

On 28 September 1915, the 1er RM/2eme RE attacked at Navarin Farm. Among the men of Co. B-3 was Soldat 2nd Cl. Elkington, who had already distinguished himself at Hill 119. As leaders fell, he took charge, attacking until the guns finally caught up with him. He lay in the bottom of a trench for 13 hours until stretcher bearers arrived. He spent nearly a year in hospitals and endured eight surgical procedures. His citation for the action reads: 

The Medaille Militaire and the Croix de Guerre avec Palme are conferred upon No. 29274 Legionaire John Ford Elkington of the First Foreign Regiment. Although being Fifty years old, he has given proof during the campaign of remarkable courage and ardour, setting everyone the best possible example. He was gravely wounded on 28 September 1915 rushing forward to assault enemy trenches. He has lost the use of his right leg.

The Regimental Badges Worn by Elkington:
Warwickshires and French Foreign Legion

On 7 September 1916 at the request of Lt. Gen. Hunter-Weston, Elkington was restored to his regiment, rank, seniorities, and awards. In October he was received by the King, who pinned on him a brand-new DSO. Deemed unfit for service, Elkington retired to his family's house in Berkshire and became active in local affairs. It was reported that he never wore any of his medals. He died in 1944, and two years later a stained-glass window honoring him (and his younger son, lost in the Western Desert) was dedicated by none other than Field Marshal Viscount Montgomery of Alamein, who said on the occasion "he made good more than he lost." 

What Was Russia's War Plan in 1914?

Russian Troops in East Prussia, September 1914

Officially known as Mobilization Schedule XIX, the plan that the Russian Army implemented in August 1914 is commonly called Plan XIX. The original version was drawn up by the general staff in 1910 and it focused on Germany as the primary enemy, anticipating an invasion out of East Prussia against Russian Poland. The 1910 version, however, was opposed by a number of factions, including those who believed (correctly) that—in the case of war—Germany would focus on France first and by others who saw that with Austria-Hungary being the weaker of the prospective opponents, a Russian advance into Galicia had a greater potential payoff in terms of expanding the empire. 

The ensuing debate led to a modification in Plan XIX—approved by the tsar in June 1912—giving two mobilization options with a final choice to be made by day nine. Under Option A, the bulk of the forces would be directed against Austria in the southwest, with a much lesser defensive component facing East Prussia. Under Option G, the Army would take a defensive posture against Austria and shift more forces north to face a German onslaught, if that's the way things developed. Option A naturally made the French, who were also correctly assuming they would be the initial targets of the Germans, nervous. They pushed for a more active and earlier advance by the Russians against East Prussia.

In August 1914 Option A was implemented immediately, but with the Russian 1st and 2nd Armies also advancing on the offense against East Prussia and moving more quickly than anyone anticipated. France got the help she needed; the Russians; however, were headed for disaster with the loss of their entire 2nd Army at Tannenberg.

The 1919 Inter-Allied Games

After the Armistice the victorious Allied armies had millions of troops with nothing to do. In the spirit of keeping the men busy and out of trouble and to help them start the transition to civilian life, sports programs sprung up in all the military camps. By January 1919, arrangements were made for a competition in Paris modeled on the Olympics, hosted by American commander General John J. Pershing. Eighteen nations competed in these Inter-Allied Games. For the U.S., sprinter Charlie Paddock and swimmer Norman Ross would be gold medalists at both Paris and Antwerp. Inter-Allied light heavyweight boxing champion Gene Tunney would later defeat Jack Dempsey for the world heavyweight championship. A year later, the athletes and the world were ready for the return of the Olympic spirit, but the war was not forgotten. By one estimate, almost ten percent of the competitors at Antwerp's 1920 Olympiad were veterans of these games. 

Opening Ceremonies

Remove 100 Meter Final

Of the 24 separate events listed in the program, the U.S. military athletes won first place for their country in 12 events and second in seven more. AEF entrants making clean sweeps of all three places in five events and in a sixth, having three of four men who succeeded in placing. Again in the service shooting events, the AEF was successful with both rifle and pistol, taking four first places. Other first places were gained by the U.S. in baseball, basketball, boxing, prize jumping with horses, swimming, tug-of-war, and catch-as-catch wrestling. America’s notable success in winning first and second places in so many varied events was due of course in no small degree to the preponderance of entries and to the consistent preliminary training, not only immediately prior to the Games but also in numerous athletic competitions fostered in the AEF by YMCA experts who were Army officers before the Inter-Allied Games were undertaken. The concluding ceremony of the Games took place on Sunday 6 July, when the medals were presented by General Pershing, the Allied flags lowered, and the French standard left to float alone over Stade Pershing.

Aviator Victor Boin Competed with the Belgian Water Polo Team

American Squad

Source:  OVER THE TOP Magazine, March 2008

The Haunted Soldiers and Sailors of Erich Heckel

Erich Heckel (b. 31 July 1883, Döbeln, Germany–d. 27 January 1970, Radolfzell, West Germany), German painter, print maker, and sculptor, was one of the founding members of Die Brücke (“The Bridge”), an influential group of German Expressionist artists. He is best known for his paintings and bold woodcuts of nudes and landscapes. The Brücke artists helped to revive the woodcut tradition in Germany; they prized the medium’s ability to convey rough, spontaneous marks and bold, flat color. Heckel was the artist most prolific in woodcut, often creating posters and invitations for Die Brücke exhibitions. 

When the Great War broke out, Heckel was classified as unfit for active service but volunteered to serve as a medical corpsman and was assigned to an ambulance unit stationed in Ostend, Belgium. He managed to continue to produce work throughout the war, most famously his images of wounded and depressed soldiers and sailors, five of which are shown here. His wartime prints, like his work on other subjects all share a somber mood that reflects the economic and political uncertainty of the times. Heckel puts this sense of foreboding in visual terms through Expressionist manipulations of space and stark contrasts of black and white. Abrupt cropping and the narrow, vertical format heighten the feelings of oppression and tension. Even when placed in a sweeping landscape, figures are compressed into a tight space.  His work after the Armistice was notably less severe. In 1937 the Nazis denounced his work, labeling it “degenerate.” After World War II, Heckel taught at the Academy of Art (1949–56) in Karlsruhe, West Germany, until his retirement.

Sources: Encyclopedia Britannica, Wikipedia, MOMA Website, German Expressionism Website

Paris 1919: Six Months That Changed the World

Margaret MacMillan

Random House, 2003
Clark Shilling, Reviewer

It is hard to believe that the four-year centennial of World War I passed so quickly and we are now at the 100th anniversary of the Paris Peace Conference. If you are interested in continuing your reading on the Great War and its legacy, I highly recommend Paris 1919: Six Months that Changed the World as an outstanding account of the effort to end the war and bring peace to a battered world.

Arabian Commission to the Peace Conference and its Advisors. In front, Emir Feisal, Over His Left Shoulder is T.E. Lawrence 

This book was first published in 2001 to wide acclaim. It won the Duff Cooper Prize as an outstanding work in history, biography or politics; the Samuel Johnson Prize for the best non-fiction writing in English; and the Hessell-Timman Prize for history. In addition, it was a New York Times best seller and a New York Times Editor's Choice. The book's original title was Peacemakers: The Paris Peace Conference of 1919 and Its Attempt to End War. It has also been published under the title Peacemakers: Six Months That Changed the World.

The author is Canadian and is actually a great-granddaughter of David Lloyd George. She received her PhD in history from Oxford University and she has held professorships in History at Ryerson University in Toronto as well as Oxford University. Currently she is a professor at the University of Toronto.

There are several reasons why I recommend this book. First of all, the author is an exceptional writer. Her prose is direct, concise yet colorful, and I found it a very easy and enjoyable book to read.

The second reason to recommend this book is the author's ability to construct vivid character sketches of the statesmen who labored over the issues of war and peace in 1919. In the first part of the book, four chapters are devoted to introducing us to the main cast: Wilson, Clemenceau and Lloyd George, along with their key advisers. The rest of the book is populated by characters such as the Arab Prince Fisal, T.E. Lawrence, Mustafa Kemal, Eleutherios Venizelos, Bella Kun, Gabriele D'Annunzio, Alfred Balfour, Chaim Weizmann, Tomas Masaryk, and Ignace Paderewski among others.

Another thing I especially liked about this book is its comprehensiveness. Accounts of the Paris Peace Conference written by American authors often focus primarily on Woodrow Wilson: his attempts to create a League of Nations, his struggle to avoid compromising his 14 Points, and finally, his failure to get the Versailles Treaty ratified by the US Senate. Other accounts tend to concentrate on aspects of the peace settlement involving Germany such as reparations and loss of territory. Both of these stories are covered more than adequately in this book, but there is so much more. As the author states, in 1919, "Paris was the capital of the world. The Peace Conference was the world's most important business… Paris was at once the world's government, its court of appeals and its parliament, the focus of its fears and hopes."

President Wilson (Seated Center) with the American Delegation

Besides making the treaties with the Central Powers, the work of the peacemakers included creating the League of Nations and redrawing not only the map of Europe, but also that of Africa, the Middle East, China, and the Pacific islands. The author devotes entire chapters for example to the creation of Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia and Poland. She has a chapter on how the Allies attempted to deal with Bolshevik Russia. In addition to these larger countries, she relates what happened in such minute areas of Europe as Montenegro and Albania.

She doesn't just focus on European issues. She includes one of the best brief explanations I have seen of how Japan was awarded the former German concession on the Shantung Peninsula of China, an event which triggered renewed nationalism and anti-western feeling in China. The last third of the book is devoted to the Middle East, and covers the rise of Turkish nationalism, the imperial rivalries between Britain and France in that part of the world, and the creation of a Jewish homeland. Her account of the conflict between Greece and Turkey over Smyrna and the coast of Anatolia that ultimately resulted in the forced exchange of populations is very well done.

Although the title says it covers "six months that changed the world," the author often carries forward the stories told here, some until the outbreak of World War II, and others into the 1990s.

The author points out several key dynamics that drove the peacemakers. First, the collapse of the Central Powers was fairly sudden and unexpected. Before August 1918, few in the Allied camp expected the war to end before 1919. Unlike the Allies in World War II, the victors in World War I did not have a long time to prepare or coordinate their peace plans. Even though they were loyal allies for four years, as soon as the war ended, Britain and France resumed their imperial rivalries over territory in the Middle East. They both cooperated, however, to limit Italian imperial demands.

Scene in the Hall of Mirrors, 28 June 1919

Some events proved beyond the control of the peacemakers such as the Russian revolution and the actions that created Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Yugoslavia. The Big Three were supposed to participate in a preliminary session to establish goals and priorities and then turn the conference over to the experts and diplomats to negotiate the details. Once started, instead, they turned the preliminary session into the actual peace conference and ran the show themselves. There was a high level of amateurism and a reluctance to take the advice of knowledgeable advisers on the part of the Big Three. Wilson struggled over how to put into practice some of his principles, especially self-determination. Wilson comes across as a brittle, stubborn figure, Lloyd George as the compromiser. Clemenceau appears to be the only one who really knew what he wanted—security for France by weakening Germany.

Professor MacMillan is a bit of a revisionist. She is kinder to the peacemakers than many other historians. Conceding that mistakes were made, she does not see the shortcomings of the 1919 settlement as the direct cause of the Second World War. Instead she blames the actions or lack of actions by the politicians of the 1920s and '30s as the cause of World War II. Another departure from the norm, she does not see the reparations imposed on Germany as the crushing burden that German statesmen, English economists, and later historians have claimed.

The Great War of 1914–1918 was one of the defining moments of the 20th century. It marked the destruction of the old dynastic order that had long governed Europe. The Paris Peace settlements of 1919 tried to create a new world order out of the ruins of the old. While parts of the world order created in Paris in 1919 proved wanting in the 1930s and were swept away in the years leading up to 1939, other parts have survived down to today. To understand the course of subsequent 20th-century history, you need to have an understanding of the Paris Peace Conference of 1919. Paris 1919 is one of the best places to begin that understanding.


Clark Shilling