6 April 1918: Woodrow Wilson's Most War-Like Speech

After President Wilson brought America into the war in April 1917, much of what he shared publicly about his war aims seemed to be a continuance of his January 1917 call for the belligerents to conclude a "peace without victory." With America's mobilization, including its economic strength and international political influence, the Allies clearly could never lose nor could the Central Powers ever prevail on the battlefield.  Things would ultimately be settled in diplomatic conference of some sort. 

Come New Year's Day of 1918, however, prospects did not seem hopeless for Germany. The 1917 campaigns had been filled with disappointments for the Allies. Italy was almost knocked out of the war at Caporetto, and the Russian Bolsheviks finally simply left the battlefield.  Germany, rather than seeking an advantageous settlement before millions of fresh Americans started arriving in Europe, decided to seek a military decision on the Western Front before the numeric tide turned irreversibly on the decisive battlefield in the west. The Great War now seemed fated to last far beyond 1918.

Two events in the spring further jolted President Wilson's estimation of the strategic situation.  On 3 March, the Central Powers concluded a draconian peace with Russia at Brest-Litovsk.  Later in the month, the German Army launched the first of five victory offensives, which initially proved alarmingly successful. Up to this point, with his public utterances—such as his January "14 Points" address—Wilson had been projecting his hopes of bringing the German leadership and/or the Dual Monarchy to sue for peace through political pressure. The recent events showed him the futility of this approach.

With the current battlefield posture, the German enemy was likely of a mind to consider new signals of moderation a sign of weakness.  Further, the Allies, who—with the end of the trench stalemate—were being driven toward the English Channel and needed a signal of America's firm "willingness to fight" resolution. The president decided to send a fresh set of signals to all the combatants in his next major speech, which is included below in its entirety. It was delivered on the first anniversary of America's declaration of war. Readers (I think) will find some of the themes and terminology positively un-Wilsonian. I've highlighted some passages that surprised me. MH

Address of President Wilson Delivered at Baltimore, 6 April 6 1918, for the Launching of the 3rd Liberty Loan

Fifth Regiment Armory, Baltimore, MD, 6 April 6 1918

Fellow Citizens: This is the anniversary of our acceptance of Germany’s challenge to fight for our right to live and be free, and for the sacred rights of free men everywhere. The Nation is awake. There is no need to call to it. We know what the war must cost, our utmost sacrifice, the lives of our fittest men and, if need be, all that we possess. The loan we are met to discuss is one of the least parts of what we are called upon to give and to do, though in itself imperative. The people of the whole country are alive to the necessity of it, and are ready to lend to the utmost, even where it involves a sharp skimping and daily sacrifice to lend out of meagre earnings. They will look with reprobation and contempt upon those who can and will not, upon those who demand a higher rate of interest, upon those who think of it as a mere commercial transaction. I have not come, therefore, to urge the loan. I have come only to give you, if I can, a more vivid conception of what it is for.

The reasons for this great war, the reason why it had to come, the need to fight it through, and the issues that hang upon its outcome, are more clearly disclosed now than ever before. It is easy to see just what this particular loan means because the cause we are fighting for stands more sharply revealed than at any previous crisis of the momentous struggle. The man who knows least can now see plainly how the cause of justice stands and what the imperishable thing is he is asked to invest in. Men in America may be more sure than they ever were before that the cause is their own, and that, if it should be lost, their own great Nation’s place and mission in the world would be lost with it.

I call you to witness, my fellow countrymen, that at no stage of this terrible business have I judged the purposes of Germany in-temperately. I should be ashamed in the presence of affairs so grave, so fraught with the destinies of mankind throughout all the world, to speak with truculence, to use the weak language of hatred or vindictive purpose. We must judge as we would be judged. I have sought to learn the objects Germany has in this war from the mouths of her own spokesmen, and to deal as frankly with them as I wished them to deal with me. I have laid bare our own ideals, our own purposes, without reserve or doubtful phrase, and have asked them to say as plainly what it is that they seek.

We have ourselves proposed no injustice, no aggression. We are ready, whenever the final reckoning is made, to be just to the German people, deal fairly with the German power, as with all others.  There can be no difference between peoples in the final judgment, if it is indeed to be a righteous judgment. To propose anything but justice, even-handed and dispassionate justice, to Germany at any time, whatever the outcome of the war, would be to renounce and dishonour our own cause. For we ask nothing that we are not willing to accord.

It has been with this thought that I have sought to learn from those who spoke for Germany whether it was justice or dominion and the execution of their own will upon the other nations of the world that the German leaders were seeking. They have answered, answered in unmistakable terms. They have avowed that it was not justice but dominion and the unhindered execution of their own will.

The avowal has not come from Germany’s statesmen. It has come from her military leaders, who are her real rulers. Her statesmen have said that they wished peace, and were ready to discuss its terms whenever their opponents were willing to sit down at the conference table with them. Her present Chancellor has said,—in indefinite and uncertain terms, indeed, and in phrases that often seem to deny their own meaning, but with as much plainness as he thought prudent,—that he believed that peace should be based upon the principles which we have declared would be our own in the final settlement. At Brest-Litovsk her civilian delegates spoke in similar terms; professed their desire to conclude a fair peace and accord to the peoples with whose fortunes they were dealing the right to choose their own allegiances. But action accompanied and followed the profession. Their military masters, the men who act for Germany and exhibit her purpose in execution, proclaimed a very different conclusion. We can not mistake what they have done,—in Russia, in Finland, in the Ukraine, in Rumania. The real test of their justice and fair play has come. From this we may judge the rest. They are enjoying in Russia a cheap triumph in which no brave or gallant nation can long take pride. A great people, helpless by their own act, lies for the time at their mercy. Their fair professions are forgotten. They nowhere set up justice, but everywhere impose their power and exploit everything for their own use and aggrandizement; and the peoples of conquered provinces are invited to be free under their dominion!

Are we not justified in believing that they would do the same things at their western front if they were not there face to face with armies whom even their countless divisions can not overcome? If, when they have felt their check to be final, they should propose favourable and equitable terms with regard to Belgium and France and Italy, could they blame us if we concluded that they did so only to assure themselves of a free hand in Russia and the East?

Their purpose is undoubtedly to make all the Slavic peoples, all the free and ambitious nations of the Baltic peninsula, all the lands that Turkey has dominated and misruled, subject to their will and ambition and build upon that dominion an empire of force upon which they fancy that they can then erect an empire of gain and commercial supremacy,—an empire as hostile to the Americas as to the Europe which it will overawe,—an empire which will ultimately master Persia, India, and the peoples of the Far East. In such a programme our ideals, the ideals of justice and humanity and liberty, the principle of the free self-determination of nations upon which all the modern world insists, can play no part. They are rejected for the ideals of power, for the principle that the strong must rule the weak, that trade must follow the flag, whether those to whom it is taken welcome it or not, that the peoples of the world are to be made subject to the patronage and overlordship of those who have the power to enforce it.

That programme once carried out, America and all who care or dare to stand with her must arm and prepare themselves to contest the mastery of the world, a mastery in which the rights of common men, the rights of women and of all who are weak, must for the time being be trodden under foot and disregarded, and the old, age-long struggle for freedom and right begin again at its beginning. Everything that America has lived for and loved and grown great to vindicate and bring to a glorious realization will have fallen in utter ruin and the gates of mercy once more pitilessly shut upon mankind!

The thing is preposterous and impossible; and yet is not that what the whole course and action of the German armies has meant wherever they have moved? I do not wish, even in this moment of utter disillusionment, to judge harshly or unrighteously. I judge only what the German arms have accomplished with unpitying thoroughness throughout every fair region they have touched.

What, then, are we to do? For myself, I am ready, ready still, ready even now, to discuss a fair and just and honest peace at any time that it is sincerely purposed,—a peace in which the strong and the weak shall fare alike. But the answer, when I proposed such a peace, came from the German commanders in Russia, and I cannot mistake the meaning of the answer.

I accept the challenge. I know that you accept it. All the world shall know that you accept it. It shall appear in the utter sacrifice and self-forgetfulness with which we shall give all that we love and all that we have to redeem the world and make it fit for free men like ourselves to live in. This now is the meaning of all that we do. Let everything that we say, my fellow countrymen, everything that we henceforth plan and accomplish, ring true to this response till the majesty and might of our concerted power shall fill the thought and utterly defeat the force of those who flout and misprize what we honour and hold dear. Germany has once more said that force, and force alone, shall decide whether Justice and Peace shall reign in the affairs of men, whether Right as America conceives it or Dominion as she conceives it shall determine the destinies of mankind. There is, therefore, but one response possible from us: Force, Force to the utmost, Force without stint or limit, the righteous and triumphant Force which shall make Right the law of the world, and cast every selfish dominion down in the dust.

Sources:  "President Wilson and the War Aims of the United States" by Klaus Schwabe;  U.S. Department of State

July Fourth 1917: America Marches Over There and Over Here

Westminster Bridge, London

By Stuart Irwin

The Fourth of July holiday is an occasion for the United States of America to celebrate and commemorate the birth of the nation. It is interesting to recall how this holiday was celebrated during the years America participated in World War One. The entry of the United States into the war provided a massive boost to the Allied powers and marked a significant moment in the conflict.

Unsurprisingly, therefore, the July 4 holiday excited much interest among the Allied powers. In 1917, the Times of London claimed that "[t]here have been many memorable Fourths of July in the past one hundred and forty-one years, but never one so pregnant with the drama of great events as this." For example, by the order of the king, the stars and stripes flew from Victoria tower.

16th Infantry, Paris, France

The celebrations in France were even more extravagant. The New York Times reported on July 4, 1918 that "Paris Avenue du Président Wilson street sign Paris turned out today as almost never in its history to celebrate the Fourth of July. The French capital not only extended a royal welcome to the Americans here, but made a thorough holiday of the day on its own account." The events included American troops marching through the city, where they were welcomed by "[c]rowds of people that jammed every available inch of space and every window in the buildings along the line of march, on roofs, and even in trees, cheered themselves hoarse." Most notably, a ceremony was held to mark the renaming of Avenue du President Wilson.

US Navy, Duluth, Minnesota

Such displays of American patriotism highlight the sense of gratitude and unity in purpose that was felt by the Allied powers. Indeed, the Times offered an eloquent narrative of the significance of having America enter the war:

They will have their reward not only in helping to save civilization from its present agony, but in an America ennobled by sacrifice, strengthened by a new consciousness of unity, made more efficient for all the purposes both of war and peace, and broadened by contact with world-wide interests and problems. The political balance of the universe shifted when General Pershing’s troops landed in France, and America, in entering the war, has also entered the world – to play in it, we are very sure, side by side with the Allied democracies, a vigorous and inspiring part. 

Liberty Loan Float, Nyack, New York

Source: U.S. National World War One Centennial Commission

Field Marshal Edmund Allenby on the Death of Lawrence of Arabia

Only Known Photo of Both Lawrence and Allenby

BBC Radio Interview, 22 May 1935 

I have lost a good friend and a valued comrade. Lawrence was under my command, but, after acquainting him with my strategical plan, I gave him a free hand. His co-operation was marked by the utmost loyalty, and I never had anything but praise for his work which, indeed, was invaluable throughout the campaign.

He was the mainspring of the Arab movement. He knew their language, their manners, their mentality; he understood and shared their merry, sly humor; in daring, he led them; in endurance, he equaled, if not surpassed, their strongest.

Though in complete sympathy with his companions, and sharing to the full with them their hardship and danger, he was careful to maintain the dignity of his position as Confidential Advisor to the Emir Feisal. Himself an Emir, he wore the robes of that rank and kept up a suitable degree of state.

His own bodyguard–men of wild and adventurous spirit–were all picked by Lawrence personally. Mounted on thoroughbred camels, they followed him in all his daring rides; and among those reckless desert rangers, there was none who would not willingly have died for their chief. In fact, not a few lost their lives through devotion to him and in defence of his person.

The shy and retiring scholar, archaeologist, philosopher, was swept by the tide of war into a position undreamt of. His well-balanced brain and disciplined imagination facilitated adaptation to the new environment; and there shone forth a brilliant tactician, with a genius for leadership.

Such men win friends–such also find critics and detractors. But the highest reward for success is the inward knowledge that it has been rightly won. Praise or blame was regarded with indifference by Lawrence. He did his duty as he saw it before him.

He has left, to us who knew and admired him, a beloved memory; and to all his countrymen, the example of a life well-spent in service.

Lawrence thought highly of Allenby and said of him, "(He was) physically large and confident, and morally so great that the comprehension of our littleness came slow to him". Allenby would die in May 1936.

The photo was found on Biosphere and the Lawrence quote on Wikipedia.

Eyewitness: A Yank Reporter with the Turks at the Dardanelles

Turkish Warships at the Golden Horn, Constantinople

Arthur Ruhl Reporting, May 1915

Constantinople was but a string of lights across Galata Bridge, and a lamp here and there on the hills. Then, toward midnight, with lights doused and life-belts strung along the rail – for English submarines were in the Marmora – we churned quietly round the comer of Stamboul and into the cool sea.

The side-wheeler was bound for the Dardanelles with provisions for the army – bread in bags, big ham- pers of green beans, and cigarettes – and among them we were admitted by grace of the minister of war, and papers covered with seals and Turkish characters, which neither of us could read. We tried to curl up on top of the beans (for the Marmora is cold at night, and the beans still held some of the warmth of the fields), but in the end took to blankets and the bare decks.

Turkish Ships Heading for the Straits

All night we went chunking southward – it is well over a hundred miles from Constantinople to the upper entrance to the straits - and shook ourselves out of our blankets and the cinders into another of those blue-and-gold mornings which belong to this part of the world. You must imagine it behind all this strange fighting at the Dardanelles – sunshine and blue water, a glare which makes the Westerner squint; moons that shine like those in the tropics. One cannot send a photograph of it home any more than I could photograph the view from my hotel window here on Pera Hill of Stamboul and the Golden Horn. You would have the silhouette, but you could not see the sunshine blazing on white mosques and minarets, the white mosques blazing against terra-cotta roofs and dusty green cedars and cypresses, the cypresses lifting dark and pensive shafts against the blue – all that splendid, exquisite radiance which bursts through one's window shutters every morning and makes it seem enough to look and a waste of time to try to think.

It is the air the gods and heroes used to breathe; they fought and played, indeed, over these very waters and wind-swept hills. Leander swam the Dardanelles close to where the Irresistible and Bouvet were sunk; the wind that blew in our faces that morning was the same that rippled the drapery of the Winged Victory. As we went chunking southward with our beans and cigarettes, we could see the snows of Olympus – the Mysian Olympus, at any rate, if not the one where Jove, the cloud-compelling, used to live, and white-armed Juno, and Pallas, Blue-Eyed Maid. If only our passports had taken us to Troy we could have looked down the plains of Ilium to the English and French ships, and Australian and French colonials fighting up the hillside across the bay. We got tea from the galley, and – with bread and helva (an insinuating combination of sugar and oil of sesame, which tastes of peanuts and is at once a candy and a sort of substitute for butter or meat) made out a breakfast. . .

Viewed from the Plains of Troy – The Dardanelles &
the Gallipoli Peninsula Near the Entrance

The Marmora narrowed, we passed Gallipoli on the European side . . . and on into the Dardanelles proper and the zone of war. It was some forty miles down this salt-water river (four miles wide at its widest, and between the forts of Chanak Kale and Kilid Bahr, near its lower end, a fraction over a mile) from the Marmora gateway to the Aegean. On the left were Lapsaki and the green hills of Asia, cultivated to their very tops; on the right Europe and the brown hills of the peninsula, now filled with guns and horses and men.

Over there, up that narrow strip of Europe, running down between the Dardanelles and the Aegean, the Allies had been trying for weeks to force their way to Constantinople. They had begun in February, you will recall, when they bombarded the forts at the outer entrance to the Dardanelles  – Sedd el Bahr the European side, at the tip of the peninsula, and Kum Kale, across the bay on the Asiatic shore. These forts occupy somewhat the relation to Constantinople that Sandy Hook does to New York, although much farther away – they face, that is to say, the open sea, and the guns of the fleet, heavier than those of the old forts, could stand off at a safe distance and demolish them.

Sedd el Bahr

When the ships pushed on up the strait toward Kilid Bahr and Chanak Kale – somewhat like trying to run the Narrows at New York – there was a different story. They were now within range of shore batteries and there were anchored mines and mines sent down on the tide. On March 18 the Irresistible, Ocean, and Bouvet were sunk, and it began to be apparent that the Dardanelles could not be forced without the help of a powerful land force. So in April landing parties were sent ashore: at Kum Kale and Sedd el Bahr, at Kaba Tepe and Art Burnu, some twelve or fourteen miles farther north on the Aegean side of the peninsula, and at another point a few miles farther up. At Sedd el Bahr and along the beach between Kaba Tepe and Art Bumu the Allies made their landing good, dug themselves in, and, reinforced by the fire of the ships, began a trench warfare not unlike that which has dragged on in the west.

A Turkish soldier, the only other occupant of the deck, surveyed these preparations impassively; then, taking off his boots, climbed on a settee and stood there in his big bare feet, with folded hands, facing, as he thought, toward Mecca. The boat was headed southwest, and he looked to starboard, so that he faced, as a matter of fact, nearly due west. He had knelt and touched his forehead twice to the bench, and was going on with the Mussulman prayer when the captain, a rather elegant young man who had served in the navy, murmured something as he passed. The soldier looked round thoughtfully; without embarrassment, surprise, or hurry stepped from the settee, pointed it toward the Asiatic shore, and, stepping up again, resumed his devotions. . .

Turkish Artillery Position on Gallipoli

The peninsula is but ten or twelve miles wide at its widest, and the Dardanelles side is within range of the fleet's great guns, firing clear overland from the Aegean. It was by this indirect fire that Maidos was destroyed and Gallipoli partly smashed and emptied of its people. There were places toward the end of the peninsula where Turkish infantrymen had to huddle in their trenches under fire of this sort coming from three directions. Whenever the invaders had it behind they were naturally at an advantage; whenever it ceased they were likely to be driven back. The Turks, on the other hand, had the advantage of numbers, of fighting on an "inside line," and of a country, one hill rising behind another, on the defense of which depended their existence as a nation in Europe.

Under these conditions the fighting had been going on for weeks, the English and French holding their ground at Sedd el Bahr and Ari Burnu, but getting no nearer Constantinople. . .

Arthur Brown Ruhl (1876–1935) was born in Rockford, Illinois, and graduated from Harvard University in 1899.  After he graduated, the New York Evening Sun employed him as a reporter, and he was soon published in Century magazine, Harper’s magazine, and Collier’s Weekly. During the Great War, he managed to work his way to Constantinople and report on the Gallipoli campaign from behind the German and Turkish lines.

Source: Tony Langley Collection

Precipice by Robert Harris

Improbable Sweethearts Venetia Stanley and H.H. Asquith

By Robert Harris

Harper, 2024

Reviewed by Editor/Publisher Mike Hanlon

Except for his recent work on the topic of papal-politics, Conclave, I'm a big fan of historian-novelist Robert Harris's writings. His Pompeii and Act of Oblivion are among my all-time favorite historical fiction novels. I rate his 2024 Precipice about the preposterous, but well-documented, romantic affair between 26-year old bright, aristocratic, Beatrice Venetia Stanley and 61-year old British prime minister Herbert Asquith, in his top rung.  What turns this soap operatic plot into an exciting historical tale is that it all takes place in 1914–1915 against a detailed background of such notable events as the July Crisis, the Retreat from Mons, the Battle of the Marne, the munitions shortage, and the Gallipoli fiasco.  

One would think that a Prime Minister would be fully engaged in managing such earthshaking affairs.  But, no, Asquith was busier writing hundreds of missives to the young lady he was obsessively wooing.  The heart of this book is a fascinating selection of these letters and notes between Asquith and Stanley.  The Prime Minister's letters presented in the novel are true specimens which became available upon the death of Venetia in 1948. Her responses are wholly invented by Harris. These fictional letters, however, are quite credible stand-ins for Venetia's— elegant in style and voice, and both tactful and guarded in responding  to the latest ploys of her  pursuer. 

Asquith's relentless correspondence in contrast becomes annoying and tiresome for the reader and must have been likewise for Venetia.  Here's an early example from Precipice of Asquith trying to gain some psychological ascendency over her while luring his "darling counsellor" with some insider gossip. 

This willingness to share closely-held cabinet information evolves over time to his frequently revealing highest-level secrets and documents to Venetia about the conduct of the war—serial violations of the Official Secrets Act.

Two other story lines accompany the matters romantic.  The author provides an excellent ringside seat to some of the major events of the early war.  I particularly enjoyed the insights on the character of some of the major personalities of the British cabinet during these trying times. Who knew that Horatio Kitchener worked so diligently at avoiding accountability for unfortunate decisions, or that Admiral Jackie Fisher was a fabulous dancer, or that Winston Churchill was incredibly pushy? (Wait. I guess I did know that last detail, but Harris really hits it hard.)

Order HERE

What ties all of this into a surprisingly exciting and tension-filled account is a third element of the story that I knew nothing about until delving into Precipice. According to Harris, an office of British Secret Service got on to the prime minister's practice of tossing secret information to Venetia quite early and started reading all the lovers' mail. This persisted until the termination of the correspondence in 1915 when Miss Stanley escaped Herbert's clutches by marrying an uninspiring, but safer, chap named Montagu. As to what the spooks did with all that intelligence—well, my lips are sealed. I'm afraid you will have to read the book if such matters interest you.

Mike Hanlon

Death on the Somme: A Reflection on the Eve of the Battle's Anniversary—A Roads Classic

Whether a man be killed by a rifle bullet through the brain, or blown into fragments by a high-explosive shell, may seem a matter of indifference to the conscientious objector, or to any other equally well-placed observer, who in point of fact is probably right; but to the poor fool who is a candidate for posthumous honours, and necessarily takes a more directly interested view, it is a question of importance.  He is, perhaps, the victim of an illusion, like all who, in the words of Paul, are fools for Christ's sake; but he has seen one man shot cleanly in his tracks and left face downwards, dead, and he has seen another torn into bloody tatters as by some invisible beast, and these experiences had nothing illusory about them: they were actual facts.  Death, of course, like chastity, admits of no degree; a man is dead or not dead, and a man is just as dead by one means as by another; but it is infinitely more horrible and revolting to see a man shattered and eviscerated, than to see him shot.  And one sees such things; and one suffers vicariously, with the inalienable sympathy of man for man.  One forgets quickly.  The mind is averted as well as the eyes.  It reassures itself after that first despairing cry: "It is I!"

"No, it is not I.  I shall not be like that."

And one moves on, leaving the mauled and bloody thing behind: gambling, in fact, on that implicit assurance each one of us has of his own immortality.  One forgets, but he will remember again later, if only in his sleep.

Dead German Soldiers, Mametz Wood,
Somme Battlefield

After all, the dead are quiet.  Nothing in the world is more still than a dead man.  One sees men living, living, as it were, desperately, and then suddenly emptied of life.  A man dies and stiffens into something like a wooden dummy, at which one glances for a second with a furtive curiosity.  Suddenly he remembered the dead in Trones Wood, the unburied dead with whom one lived, he might say, cheek by jowl, Briton and Hun impartially confounded, festering, fly-blown corruption, the pasture of rats, blackening in the heat, swollen with distended bellies, or shrivelling away within their mouldering rags; and even when night covered them, one vented in the wind the stench of death.  Out of one bloody misery into another, until we break.  One must not break.  He took in his breath suddenly in a shaken sob, and the mind relinquished its hopeless business. The warm smelly darkness of the tent seemed almost luxurious ease. He drowsed heavily; dreaming of womanly softness, sweetness; but their faces slipped away from him like the reflections in water when the wind shakes it, and his soul sank deeply and more deeply into the healing of oblivion.

From: The Middle Parts of Fortune: Somme and Ancre, 1916 by Frederic Manning (1882–1935)

Remembering a Veteran: Capt. A. H. “Harry” Cobby CBE GM DSO DFC+2 , Leading Australian Flying Corps Ace

World War One Air Ace and Hero

By James Patton

Arthur Henry “Harry” Cobby (1894–1955) was born in Prahran, Melbourne, one of four sons of Arthur E. S., a tram conductor, and Alice Cobby (née Nash). Harry was educated at University College, Armadale, Perth.  At age 18 he received a militia commission in the 46th  Infantry (Brighton Rifles), based at Elsternwick, Melbourne and was later transferred to the 47th  Infantry, which was disbanded in early 1914. 

After the First World War began he was eager to join the new Australian Imperial Force (AIF), but his employer, the Commonwealth Bank, refused to release him. Two years later circumstances had changed, and in October 1916 he was allowed to join the Australian Flying Corps (AFC), despite having little prior experience with aircraft. He was posted to the AFC Central Flying School at Point Cook, Victoria, where he completed his training in December 1916 with just 30 minutes of solo flying in his log. Still a 2nd  lieutenant, he was then assigned as a founding member of No. 4 Squadron, AFC, which would go on to claim 199 victories in the skies over the Western Front, the most of any AFC squadron.

No. 4 arrived in England in March 1917. More training ensued, as well as type familiarization.  By December, having learned to fly the Sopwith Camel, they were in France. Although their training had ended, Cobby—who at this point had just 12  solo hours himself—said that the squadron was made up of novices. He later admitted to being so nervous about the prospect of going into combat that "if anything could have been done by me to delay that hour, I would have left nothing undone to bring it about."

In February 1918, he got the first of his claimed 29 kills (plus 13 balloons, which were not counted as kills by the AFC), which proved to be the highest score achieved by a member of the AFC. Two Australians flying Sopwith Triplanes with with the Royal Naval Air Service had higher scores, Capt. Robert Little (1895–1918) with 47 and Maj. Roderic “Stan” Dallas (1891–1918) with 39. Both were killed within six days of each other in 1918. 

By May 1918, Cobby was an experienced combat airman, having flown extensively against various enemy aircraft, including von Richthofen’s Flying Circus (he shot down two JG.I  Albatros V’s),  and participated in low-level attacks during the March offensive. 

On 25 May 1918, Cobby, already a flight leader, was promoted to captain. Described as "an imp of mischief," he personalized his Sopwith Camel by decorating it with caricatures of comic actor Charlie Chaplin and adopting various flashy paint schemes, although he claimed that these were "not for conceit, but for safety," as he wanted to avoid being shot down by his own side. He again scored two kills in one day on 30 May near Estaires, an Albatros and an observation balloon, and repeated this feat the next day. Earlier he had been responsible for No. 4's first balloon kill—at Merville earlier in May. These large observation balloons, nicknamed Drachen (dragons), were a valuable target and thus well protected by fighter cover and anti-aircraft guns.

He was recommended for the Military Cross (MC) on 3 June 1918 in recognition of his combat success and for being a "bold and skilful Patrol Leader, who is setting a fine example to his Squadron." The award was upgraded to a Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) on 2 July. He never actually got an MC.

Cobby shot down three German aircraft on 28 June and was recommended for a bar to his DFC, highlighting his triple-ace tally of 15 victories. On 15 July 1918, he and another pilot engaged five Pfalz scouts near Armentières, Cobby accounting for two of the enemy aircraft and his companion for one. The Australians were then pursued by four Fokker Triplanes but managed to evade them. This action earned him a second bar to his DFC, the citation noting that he had scored 21 kills to date and had "succeeded in destroying so many machines by hard work and by using his brains, as well as by courage and brilliant flying." The two bars to his DFC were both gazetted on 21 September. 

Meanwhile, on 16 August, Cobby led a bombing raid against the German airfield at Haubourdin, near Lille, the largest aerial assault by Allied forces up until then, resulting in 37 enemy aircraft being destroyed. The following day he led a similar attack on Lomme airfield and was recommended for the Distinguished Service Order (DSO).  Gazetted on 2 November, the citation read "The success of these two raids was largely due to the determined and skilful leadership of this officer."

In September, Cobby returned to England to be an instructor. His exploits had been widely reported in Australia. At the Commonwealth Bank, reports of his courage and flying prowess were met with pride. Cobby, in writing to the bank’s house organ Bank Notes, was more modest about his successes. He said that he was, "more to be congratulated on being alive than doing anything special, as the whole AFC strive after good results, and of course some go west, and those that live reap the benefits of the whole."

Portrait at the Australian War Museum

Cobby led the AFC fly-past over London on ANZAC Day 1919 before his return to Australia in May 1919. Still widely  known at home, he became the face of the AFC, and a William McInnes portrait of him was commissioned for display at the new Australian War Museum. The Commonwealth Bank, in recognition of his distinguished war service, had letters of welcome sent to him from each of its state branches. The bank claimed that his great successes were not unexpected "for we were all well aware that his temperament and courage eminently fitted him for distinction as a daring and successful aviator."

In 1921, he became a founding member of the Royal Australian Air Force  (RAAF). He was a full-time flying officer, commanding No. 1 Squadron, and eventually rose to the rank of wing commander in 1933 before reverting to reserve status in 1936. 

He joined the Australian Civil Aviation Board as it’s Controller of Operations. As such, he had responsibility for aircraft inspections, licenses and airworthiness certificates, maintenance of radio and meteorological services, and RAAF liaison. The board was reorganized as the Department of Civil Aviation in November 1938, and he was eventually made redundant. Throughout this period he had been a regular contributor to aviation magazines such as Australian Airmen and Popular Flying. Later, in 1942, he published High Adventure an account of his WWI service. 

In  September 1939, the RAAF called back him back to active duty as a group captain. He was first assigned to head up recruiting, then given an area command. He was promoted to air commodore in July 1943. On 7 September of the same year, he was traveling as a passenger on a PBY Catalina when it crash-landed near Townsville, Queensland. Although injured, he helped rescue two other survivors and was recommended for the George Medal for his "outstanding bravery," which was gazetted on 10 March 1944. Also, in the 1944 Birthday Honours, the king made Cobby a Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE).

In August 1944 he was appointed air officer commanding, 1st Tactical Air Force, the only RAAF combat command of its size (25,000 men) in the war. This role he found to be increasingly untenable due to his getting orders from the RAAF High Command, the U.S. 13th Air Force, and even U.S. Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s Southwest Pacific Area Command. Cobby likened his position to that of the farcical Gilbert & Sullivan character The Duke of Plaza Toro.

In April 1945, based out of Morotai Island (today a part of Indonesia), Cobby faced the resignations of eight of his best pilots, including the RAAF’s leading ace, Group Capt. Clive Caldwell DSO DFC+1 (1911–1994), who was also the leading WWII ace in the P-40. He was the commander of the RAAF No. 1 Fighter Wing, which was made up of three squadrons of the highly prized Spitfire XVCs.  Caldwell and his pilots were annoyed at flying dangerous operations against what they considered to be "senseless unimportant ground targets." Known as the "Morotai Mutiny," the episode resulted in Cobby being relieved due to "low morale." After additional complaints and a drawn-out investigation, he was cashiered in August 1946. 

World War Two Air Commander

Australian historian (and former RAAF pilot) Alan Stephens PhD OAM has written: “No Australian airman's experience better illustrates the tensions between 'command', 'leadership' and ‘heroism’ … the qualities that make a hero do not easily translate into those needed by a commander, although they are likely to engender leadership." Stephens also described Cobby’s cashiering as "a personal and institutional tragedy that a genuinely great figure in RAAF history had to end his career in such circumstances.” 

That notwithstanding, in 1948, as recognition for his wartime service to the U.S., Cobby received the U.S. Medal of Freedom (a non-military award, superseded in 1962 by the Presidential Medal of Freedom). The citation states that  from September 1944 to January 1945, he displayed "exceptionally sound judgement and far sighted planning...and materially assisted in support of the operations in the Philippine Liberation Campaign."

Meanwhile, he had rejoined the Department of Civil Aviation, where he was a regional director (1947–54) and  director of flight operations until he was stricken at work and died in Melbourne on Armistice Day 1955. He was still a national hero and was accorded full military honors at his burial.

The Committee on Public Information (CPI) — America's Mighty Propaganda Machine — CSPAN Video

Deeds Still Remembered for Good or Ill: Ten WWI Recipients of the Pour le Mérite

The Pour le Mérite, known informally during World War I as the Blue Max, was the Kingdom of Prussia's highest military order until the end of World War I. The original regulations called for the capture or successful defense of a fortification, or victory in a battle. By World War I, the oak leaves often indicated a second or higher award of the Pour le Mérite. Although it could be awarded to any military officer, many of its most famous recipients were the pilots of the German Army Air Service (Luftstreitkräfte), whose exploits were celebrated in wartime propaganda. It was awarded 1,687 times in the First World War. This included 122 awards with the additional oak leaves.

• Lothar von Arnauld de la Perière, German U-boat commander for sinking 194 ships, totaling 453,716 tons of Allied shipping, the most by any submarine commander in history. 

• Oswald Boelcke is important as a pioneering figure in the history of aerial warfare, particularly for his contributions to the development of fighter tactics during World War.  "Dicta Boelcke" is the foundational set of rules for aerial combat. (Photo: Bottom Right)

• Hermann Göring, was decorated as an ace pilot in June 1918, later Reichsmarschall, head of the Luftwaffe, and second in command of Germany's Third Reich. War criminal. (Photo: Bottom Left)

• Ernst Jünger, novelist and the last living holder of the Pour le Mérite at the time of his death in 1998.  Wounded 14 times during the war.

• Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, who led German forces in the guerrilla campaign in German East Africa. One of Germany's greatest postwar heroes.  (Photo: Top Left)

• Erich Ludendorff, German general of World War I; awarded the Pour le Mérite in August 1914, one of the earliest World War I awards, for the siege of Liège.  (Photo: Top Right)

• Manfred von Richthofen,  the top-scoring ace of World War I.   As the "Red Baron" has posthumously received mythic status throughout the world.

• Erwin Rommel, the future "Desert Fox" distinguished himself on multiple fronts of the war, especially at Caporetto in 1917.

• Hans von Seeckt, brilliant staff officer in World War I; awarded the Pour le Mérite in May 1915 and the oak leaves in November 1915 for contributions on the Eastern Front. After the war, he was instrumental in surreptitiously rebuilding the postwar German army.

The British Empire and "World War"

Comments by John Bourne, Birmingham University, in THE OXFORD HISTORY OF MODERN WAR, 2000

The [Great War] began in the Balkan cockpit of competing nationalisms and ancient ethnic rivalries. Hopes that it could be contained there proved vain. Expansion of the war was swift. . .

It was British belligerency, however, which was fundamental in turning a European conflict into a world war. Britain was the world’s greatest imperial power. The British had world-wide interests and world-wide dilemmas. They also had world-wide friends. Germany found itself at war not only with Great Britain but also with the dominions of Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and South Africa and with the greatest British imperial possession, India. Concern for the defence of India helped bring the British into conflict with the Ottoman Empire in November 1914 and resulted in a major war in the Middle East. 

Most important of all, perhaps,  Britain’s close political, economic, and cultural ties with the United States of America, if they did not ensure that nation’s eventual entry into the war, certainly made it possible. The American declaration of war on Germany on 6 April 1917 was a landmark not only in the history of the United States but also in that of Europe and the world, bringing to an end half a millennium of European domination and ushering in ‘the American century’.

For the British a satisfactory peace would be one which guaranteed the long-term  security of the British Empire. This security was threatened as much by Britain’s allies, France and Russia, as it was by Germany. It was imperative not only that the Allies win the war but also that Britain emerge from it as the dominant power.

Forgotten Canadian War Artist: Mary Riter Hamilton

Gun Emplacements, Farbus Wood, Vimy Ridge

Mary Riter Hamilton was a Canadian painter, etcher, drawing artist, textile artist, and ceramics artist who spent much of her career painting abroad. She produced the largest known collection of First World War art—over 300 works.  

Mary Riter Hamilton (1867–1954) About 1912

"I came out because I felt I must come, and if I did not come at once it would be too late."

So wrote Mary Riter Hamilton in 1922. The Canadian artist had just completed a two-and-a-half-year solo expedition to Europe's postwar battlefields. In that time, she created more than 300 paintings and drawings, the largest known collection of First World War art.

She embarked on this artistic and historic mission in order to bear witness, to ensure that future generations would remember the devastation and the overwhelming loss caused by the Great War.

Memorial for the Second Canadian Division in
a Mine Crater near Neuville St. Vaast

The Artist Working at Ypres in 1919

When the First World War ended, the Amputation Club of British Columbia—the predecessor to the War Amps of Canada—commissioned Hamilton to portray the postwar battlefields for its magazine, The Gold Stripe. She set sail for France and Belgium at the very moment when most were leaving the former battlefields for home.

In late April 1919, Riter Hamilton stepped foot on Vimy Ridge for the first time. 

Trenches on the Somme

The Sadness of the Somme 

By 1921, more than two years after she arrived on the battlefields, Riter Hamilton had reached a breaking point. She was physically and emotionally depleted. She suffered from rheumatism and mental anguish and was poor. She had also become silent—her letters to friends and family back home had come to a full stop.  

"I fear I must give up for a time," Riter Hamilton wrote that year, "my heart has given out of air." 

In 1923, Hamilton suffered a nervous breakdown. She struggled with deep fear and paranoia and was consumed with worry about the fate of her paintings. She was determined to bring them home to Canada, yet didn't have the funds to do so. With money earned making hand-painted women's scarves, Hamilton at last managed to return to Canada in 1925 and began the search for an institutional home for her battlefield works. The next year, she donated the collection to the Public Archives of Canada in Ottawa, now Library and Archives Canada, where they remain to this day. 

 Lens-Arras Road

Sources: The Conversation, 8 November 2020; CBC Website, 11 November 2021; Library and Archives Canada

Paths of Glory by Irvin S. Cobb

Paths of Glory

 By Irvin S. Cobb
Aeterna, 2024 

Irvin S. Cobb

Not to be confused with the Humphrey Cobb novel of the same title later turned into a 1957 motion picture directed by Stanley Kubrick and starring Kirk Douglas, this work was first published in 1915. This Paths of Glory is a revealing series of firsthand impressions of the opening weeks of the Great War in Belgium, Germany, and France written by Saturday Evening Post correspondent Irvin Shrewsbury Cobb (1876–1944). 

Cobb traveled by taxi, staff car, train, and horse-drawn carriage behind the battle fronts in the late summer and fall of 1914. Despite German suspicions, he was given remarkable access. He interviewed any number of German officers; Belgian, French, and English war prisoners; German, Belgian, and French civilians and medical personnel, as well as American diplomats and consular officials in Belgium. 

While he is careful not to accuse the Germans of committing atrocities against civilians, he does detail the destruction of life and property in reprisal for alleged Belgian armed civilian resistance, the legendary francs tireurs so feared by German soldiers. His depiction of the ruins of the Belgian university city of Louvain is particularly evocative. 

In  summary, Cobb describes Belgium as "That poor little rag doll, with its head crushed in  the wheeled tracks…" Not surprisingly, he finds many Belgian civilians to be morose, demoralized, and hungry. Some even  then were beginning to starve. 

. . . We were not in the town of Battice. We were where the town of Battice had been, where it stood six weeks ago. It was famous then for its fat, rich cheeses and its green damson plums. Now, and no doubt for years to come, it will be chiefly notable as having been the town where, it is said, Belgian civilians first fired on the German troops from roofs and windows, and where the Germans first inaugurated their ruthless system of reprisal on houses and people alike. Literally this town no longer existed. It was a scrap-heap, if you like, but not a town. Here had been a great trampling out of the grapes of wrath, and most sorrowful was the vintage that remained.

 

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In language that must have shocked contemporary American readers, Cobb reports on the almost unending parade of  blood-soaked wounded streaming back from the fighting front and the heroic efforts of exhausted German, Belgian, and French medical staff to cope with the carnage. He also visits and vividly describes the ruins of the Fort de Loncin and other defensive works destroyed by heavy-caliber German and Austrian siege guns, views the front from a German observation balloon, visits an artillery battery, and reports on German civilian attitudes toward the war. Even in the fall of 1914 Germans were publicly discussing the possible annexation of Belgium, as well as absolute German domination—political and economic—over the European continent. 

Escorting Convoys—The U.S. Navy's Critical Role in World War One

Click on Convoy Image to Enlarge

The duties of antisubmarine patrol and escort required primarily a small vessel of light draft, good sea-keeping qualities, and preferably high speed. The destroyer was especially suited for the work, but since the number available was inadequate to meet the demands, they were supplemented by converted yachts, revenue cutters, gunboats, small cruisers, etc. The first American men-of-war to reach Europe was a division of destroyers that arrived at Queenstown on 4 1917. This place was selected as a base of operations on account of its proximity to the focus of traffic lanes to the waters of Great Britain and northern France. As the war progressed, there were established similar American main bases at Brest and Gibraltar, and smaller bases on the west coast of France.

Destroyer USS Allen and Troopship SS Leviathan
Destroyers Played a Key Role in the Convoy System

During the first few weeks of American participation, the method of protection to shipping in the war zone was by patrol. Each destroyer was assigned a certain area within which it cruised with the object of forcing any submarines in that area to remain submerged and thus hamper the facility of its operations and favor the safe passage of surface vessels proceeding singly. This method proved to be extremely inefficient because of the small force which could be assigned to the work and the very large area to be covered.

A Troop Convoy Approaching Brest, France

Meantime plans were formulated to put the convoy system into effect. As is well known, this system involved the formation of a large number of merchant vessels into one group and the escort of that group through the war zone by antisubmarine vessels. It was not adopted earlier principally because of a shortage of war vessels to serve the tremendous amount of shipping passing through the danger zone. It was due to this fact that the American naval aid was at first so important, that American destroyers and other suitable vessels were available in fairly sufficient numbers to place world shipping on a convoy basis at a very acute crisis. This was true especially of the destroyers which necessarily had to form the keystone of the whole convoy system.

A Gun Crew at Their Station in the U-boat Zone

While the convoy system was a defensive measure, it was established as a matter of sheer necessity. Offensive measures would have been generally preferred as being the surest way in which to defeat the submarine campaign, but no offensive means had been sufficiently developed at that time to promise any considerable success, and the severe losses which were being incurred in the spring of 1917 left no other than a defensive alternative. To a degree the convoy system was an "offensive-defensive" in that the escort vessels were prepared, upon an attack being made on their convoy, to instantly take the offensive against submarines and endeavor to destroy them with gunfire or depth charges.

Principal Destroyer Base, Queenstown, Ireland

From the beginning, the convoy system was a great success. It was put into effect gradually, and by the end of July 1917, more than 10,000 ships had been convoyed and only one-half of one percent of them lost. Ultimately practically all shipping was placed in convoy, and the low percentage of losses under this system was maintained until the end of the war. The very fact of its success created a strong tendency to make the escorts of destroyers and other small vessels more numerous, thus constantly absorbing the reinforcements of small craft for this semi-defensive work rather than for more offensive measures, such as hunting. By July 1917, there were 34 American destroyers with their tenders based on Queenstown, and 17 converted yachts and 9 minesweepers were based on the Bay of Biscay French ports for the purpose of keeping that coast clear of mines and giving escort to local convoys. As more destroyers became available, they were assigned to Brest, and at that port there was gradually assembled a force of approximately the same size as the Queenstown organization. These two detachments were the principal American anti-submarine forces employed in Europe for the protection of the sea transportation of the American Army. Their work was, of course, augmented by British and French forces.

View of a Convoy from an Escort Ship

Another very important American detachment was that at Gibraltar, the "gateway" for more traffic than any other part in the world. Gibraltar was the focus for the great routes to and from the east through the Mediterranean, and from it extended the communications for the armies in Italy, Saloniki, Egypt, Palestine, and Mesopotamia. The Allied forces based here were chiefly British and American, though French, Japanese, and Italian vessels also assisted. The American contingent comprised cruisers, gunboats, revenue cutters, antiquated destroyers, and yachts, ultimately aggregating about 41 vessels, with a personnel of nearly 5,000.

Leave Party from the USS Great Northern

The duty of escorting convoys was extremely arduous. The small vessels had to keep the sea for long periods and maintain the same speed as the convoy regardless of weather conditions. Many convoys had to be met as far as 300 miles from the coast. The great extent of the ocean combined with the comparatively few (about 12) submarines which the Germans could maintain continuously on station prevented frequent attacks by enemy submarines. Many escort vessels went through the entire war without a hostile submarine, but this was due in part to the fact that the submarines preferred to leave the protected convoys alone and to expend their efforts in the less dangerous work of attacking single ships of which one or more usually straggled from each convoy.

American Lives Were Lost When the USS Tuscania—
Part of a British Convoy—Was Sunk

Usually the escort vessels went through the cycle of proceeding to a port in Europe where empty ships were made up into convoys, scouting the approaches of the port, forming up the convoy and getting it started westward, escorting it through the danger zone and dispersing it, scouting for and picking up an inbound convoy, escorting it eastward through the danger zone, and protecting it during the period when detachments separated to go to respective ports. This usually occupied three or four days, after which the escort vessels would proceed to their home port for a few days of rest and repair, preparatory to another cycle of operations.

Doughboys Heading Over

During the period at sea, it was principally hard work and hardship with no wild adventure, although expectations were keyed up by the frequent radio reports of submarine positions and operations, S.O.S. signals from vessels which had been attacked by submarines, and other similar information. A destroyer was frequently detached and sent ahead or astern of the convoy to drive down a submarine which had been reported. When vessels in the vicinity were torpedoed, one or more destroyers would be sent to rescue the personnel, taking them off the sinking steamer or picking them up from their boats. Not infrequently, a submarine would hover about a convoy for several days awaiting an opportunity to attack, even though its presence was known to the escorting vessels, and a number of attacks were made upon convoys after which the submarine escaped successfully in spite of barrages of depth charges from the destroyers.

Aboard Ship

The most successful operation of American escort vessels during the war was the capture of the U-58 by the United States destroyers Fanning and Nicholson. This occurred in November, 1917, when an American destroyer division was escorting an outward bound convoy of eight empty ships toward its point of dispersal, with instructions to meet subsequently an incoming convoy. After the usual preliminary scouting off the port, the destroyers were patrolling the vicinity and giving instructions with a view to having the merchant ships take their formation promptly. While the Fanning was thus engaged, the lookout sighted a periscope in such a location as to seriously endanger the merchant ship Welshman. Immediately, the Fanning's helm was put over and the difficult task undertaken of reaching a position immediately over the submarine whose periscope had disappeared. The Fanning made a wide and rapid turn and depth-charged the place where she estimated the submarine to be. The Nicholson also joined the attack and dropped another depth charge ahead of the Fanning.

Flotilla of Navy Destroyers Guarding a Convoy

Eagerly the sea was scanned for evidence of success in the usual form of oil patches, air bubbles or pieces of wreckage, but none were seen. For 10 or 15 minutes, everything was quiet and it appeared that the submarine must have been missed, but at that time she came to the surface apparently undamaged and was immediately fired upon by the guns of the destroyers. Suddenly the submarine's conning tower opened and officers and crew filed up with their arms overhead shouting Kamarad. Of course, the gun fire was immediately stopped. The submarine had surrendered, but soon afterward she began to sink, her sea valves having been purposely opened. The crew was rescued from the water by the American destroyers. It was subsequently learned that although the depth charges had not exploded sufficiently close to the submarine to do her any material structural damage, the concussion had wrecked her motors, making it impossible to control the vessel while submerged. The German captain then had the alternative of sinking until the water pressure crushed the vessel or to blow the ballast tanks, rise to the surface and surrender. He first attempted to stay under water but upon reaching the critical depth of 200 feet with the boat still descending rapidly, he decided to take his chances on the surface.

USS Agamemnon Returning Part of the
26th Yankee Division

During the 18 months of war when American vessels escorted convoys through the war zone, 183 attacks were made by them upon submarines, 24 submarines were damaged and two known to have been destroyed. A total of 18,653 ships were escorted carrying vast quantities of freight to the armies in France and the civilian population of the Allies, as well as more than 2,000,000 troops.

American Doughboys Returning Home Aboard the
Battleship USS Louisiana

The principal burden of this stupendous work fell upon the destroyers, whose very efficiency created never ceasing demands for protection to the endless stream of vessels passing the great focus of the allied lines of sea communications. Few of the millions of soldiers, sailors, and civilians, who were met far at sea by these comparatively tiny craft will ever forget the sense of great relief and security given by their mere presence. The thousands who witnessed attacks upon submarines or who were rescued from stricken vessels will have an even more vivid recollection and a better comprehension of the highly important work of the destroyers. The fact that not a single American soldier, en route to France under the protection of the United States Navy, was lost through submarine attack, is very largely due to the efficient and unremitting work of the American destroyers. (See Note 1.)

Note 1.  There were some losses of American troops en route to France. See our article on those losses HERE. 

Source:  American Naval Participation in the Great War (With Special Reference to the European Theater of Operations) by Capt. Dudley W. Knox, Naval History and Heritage Command