Weapons of War: The Sterling Spark Gap Transmitter

British 60-Pounder at Ypres, Early War
The Story Begins Here

James Patton

When the Race to the Sea was over, and the opposing forces were bogged down in their fixed positions, the artillery truly became the King of Battle. For maximum effectiveness, the guns need to be corrected by forward observation. Everybody had airplanes, so it was obvious that a way should be found to use them for this job. For the British, there was also the lurking U-boat threat, even in the English channel, and the Royal Navy was keen to use their aerial assets to spot the submarines as well.

The British solution was the Sterling Spark Gap wireless transmitter, also referred to as the No. 1 Aircraft Transmitter Spark. It was designed in late 1914 and first brought into use at Gallipoli in 1915 by the Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS). They were operating off of the seaplane carrier HMS Ark Royal (later re-named as the eighth HMS Pegasus) to support naval gunfire, which was not very successful, due to the limited trajectory of the guns and the lack of appropriate shells.

HMS Ark Royal

The Sterling device was based on a design by then-Lieutenant Basil Binyon (1885- 1977) OBE MA RNVR, an experienced wireless engineer who was serving in the RNAS. After the war Binyon was a director of the Marconi Wireless Telegraph Co. (MWTC) and a founding director of the BBC. In 1939, at age 62, he was appointed a group commander in the Royal Observer Corps.

The Sterling was state-of-the-art in 1914, simple but robust, employing a principle discovered by Heinrich Hertz (1857-94) in 1886. The tuning was straightforward, the aim was to create a 'good fat white spark' for maximum antenna current. Unlike its successor, the continuous wave (CW) transmitter, the Spark Gap sent the dots and dashes of Morse Code as bursts of radio frequency (RF) energy on an otherwise silent frequency, whereas the CW transmitter broadcast a steady RF signal (wave) which was briefly interrupted by the Morse Code dots and dashes. CW technology enabled voice transmission when they figured out how to modulate the wave.

Around 1,300 Sterling No. 1 sets were made during the First World War. The first 100 or so were made by the Sterling Telephone and Electric Company Ltd. (hence the name) and the remainder by the War Department (WD) Wireless Factory. Subsequent variants models were manufactured by MWTC as well as the WD totaled 3,898. In 1918 a similar device to the Sterling was produced for the U.S. Army Signal Corps by the Connecticut Telephone and Electric Company, which was called the Airplane Radio Telegraph Transmitting Set Box Type BC-15A. 

Sterling No. 1

In the original version, the Sterling operated on the wave lengths between 100 and 260 meters. Batteries provided up to 10 volts DC power. The transmitter's RF output power of 30 to 40 Watts, coupled to the 35 meter (or ¼ wave) long-wire antenna that trailed behind the plane and the height above ground, gave an operating range of 8-10 miles. 

The set was usually mounted on a tray on the side of the aircraft fuselage, outside of the cockpit. Since both the Morse key and the transmitter produced sparks, they had to be enclosed. The transmitter was in a box with a small mica window, so the operator could see the ‘strength’ of the spark. Both of these enclosures were precautions to minimize the danger of the spark igniting the gasoline vapors that could build-up in the cockpit. The antenna was made of stranded copper wire with a 1 ½ kg weight at the end (to keep the wire trailing straightened out. After reaching the desired altitude, the wire was spooled out, either from the side of the aircraft fuselage alongside the wireless set or through an insulated grommet in the floor of the cockpit. Aircraft engaged in long-range reconnaissance used a version that powered the transmitter with airstream-driven generators giving 600 volts DC , producing a kilowatt of RF power.

At first, communication was air -to- ground only, so the sender (usually the observer), had no way of knowing if the message had been received, and frequently simultaneous transmissions occurred, causing jamming. A device known as a "Clapper break&"; was fitted to the transmitter to produce a slight variation in the sound of the received signal, so that the ground operators could differentiate between the various aircraft transmitting. There were developed one or two character codes to enable the user to identify himself and tell the batteries how to adjust their fire.

The Full Kit for Aircraft Observation

Early on, receivers had been tried out in aircraft, but with little success due to the incoming signal being masked by the engine ignition spark, as well as the ambient noise, both from the engine and the slipstream. Eventually those problems were overcome. The ignition system was shielded and flyer’s helmets were equipped with built-in Type A reed headphones, invented by Sidney G. Brown FRS (1873-1948), which could amplify the weak voltage output of the crystal receiver. Notwithstanding the deficiencies, the Sterling set was very important, especially when the users were equipped with both a transmitter and a receiver.

Perhaps the most significant development was to the wireless sets themselves: first by improving tuning over the ‘cats-whisker’ crystal receivers. The Tuned Frequency (Tt) 3vacuum tube receivers, capable of receiving either Spark or CW transmissions, were developed at RNAS Cranwell in 1917. They also developed a vacuum tube transmitter known as the TI1, which was a simple feed-back oscillator using two vacuum tubes operating in parallel with a tappable coil for tuning. Completing the rig was a windmill-type generator that produced 1200 volts DC, significantly upping the transmission power. Even radio telephony (voice communications) became possible by the end of the war; some RAF aircraft were equipped with two-way voice-capable communication with a range of over 10 miles.

Post-war versions operated on shorter wave lengths and were powered by a 150 watt wind-driven alternator. Used by the RAF into the 1930’s, these radios had ranges of 200-300 miles air to ground and 40 miles air to air. If you’re intrigued by the technology of the Sterling devices, here is a LINK for you.

The Cavell Escape Network

It All Started When the BEF Arrived 

The dramatic and tragic story of the execution of Nurse Edith Cavell is so moving that it overwhelms the history of the network for evacuating Allied soldiers from enemy territory during the Great War, which she helped organize, and which inspired similar efforts for the entirety of the war.  Fortunately, Virginia Commonwealth University has helped tell this story in its fullest. Presented here are excerpts from their research.  Their full, multi-page account can be read HERE.

The Ecole Belge d’Infirmieres Diplomees, better known simply as the Clinique, was established 16 May 1907, by renowned surgeon Dr. Antoine Depage. Cavell was recommended to Depage by the Francois family of Brussels. It was Depage's desire to modernize and expand Belgium's hospital system and well-regarded Edith Cavell would lead a new generation of nurses to staff the facilities. Resistance to the occupying Germans organized quickly. The Belgian resistance that Cavell would become a part of was made up of a small handful of loosely organized individuals that sheltered wounded Allied soldiers and ferried them out of Belgium. 

Edith Cavell (Front Left) and the Staff of the Clinique

It began in late September when Princess Marie de Croy and Prince Reginald de Croy were approached by Henriette Moriame and Louise Thuliez. These two women had been nursing English soldiers in their homes after the Battle of Mons in August and needed to find a way for them to escape. The decision was made to use the De Croys' castle of Bellignies and privately owned Forest of Mormal to hide them. Medieval prison rooms, such as the "Black Hole" below a staircase, would hide Allied troops from the surprise German inspections. Photographs were taken to create fake passports before guides escorted the men out of Belgium. The organization continued to grow throughout its existence; recruiting Cavell, architect-turned-guide Phillipe Baucq (who would be executed at the same time) and many others who assisted in the sheltering and smuggling of troops.

The relative quiet of Clinique life changed on 1 November 1914. Herman Capiau, a member of the Belgian resistance, led English Colonel Dudley Boger and Sergeant Fred Meachin into Brussels to be hidden. Both men had been wounded at the Battle of Mons, 23 August 1914.. After failing to secure shelter in numerous places they were directed to the English matron of the Clinique. It was believed that perhaps she would give assistance to her fellow countrymen. It was only by chance that Cavell found herself involved in the Belgian resistance.  

Colonel Boger was the commander of the 1st Cheshire regiment. During the battle he had been wounded three times, including a very serious spur injury to his right foot. He was found by German officers who gave him emergency medical treatment before taking him to a nearby convent. Sergeant Meachin, a non-commissioned officer in the Cheshires was hit by shrapnel in the head and had to crawl to a Belgian Red Cross station to receive assistance. Meachin, upon learning of his commander's location, traveled to the convent. Soon they had made their escape and found themselves under the care of Capiau.

One of the Earliest Escapees

Shortly after their arrival Cavell arranged for their escape out of the country. Colonel Boger was captured before he could make his way out of Brussels and spent the remainder of the war as a prisoner. Sergeant Meachin was more fortunate, and eventually found his way back to England. By opening her doors to these two men it became understood that she would help any and all Allied soldiers who asked for her assistance.

Cavell's role in the organization was sheltering and caring for Allied soldiers found in Bellignies and Northern France until guides were organized to take them out of Belgium. One charge against her at the German military trial was that most of the men coming into the Clinique were not wounded at all. In reality, a substantial number of soldiers arrived with serious wounds. One such patient was French General Henri Giraud who was left for dead on the battlefield until German medical crews picked him up. Injuries ranged from bullet wounds and shrapnel to crushed ligaments and shell shock. 

Hiding these soldiers was no easy task, as the Germans had set up a command post across the street from the Clinique. Cavell was well aware that her activities would draw the attention of the German secret police, and on numerous occasions the Clinique was raided in attempts to uncover Allied soldiers and incriminating documents. Due in equal parts to quick thinking and sheer luck, soldiers were able to hide as Belgian patients behind bed curtains, in sheds, and in dire circumstances by jumping over the back wall and finding shelter in neighboring houses.

Two Men of the Norfolk Regiment Cavell Helped,
R.W. Mapes and Frank Holmes

Unfortunately, the false sense of security the peaceful town presented meant that a handful of the soldiers became careless in their attempts to blend in with the natives. Cavell refused to house them as prisoners, so they were free to go about the city, though almost exclusively in the evening. On a handful of occasions soldiers roamed the streets and taverns singing in English and otherwise drawing attention to themselves. When this occurred, swift action was required to relocate them.

German soldiers were not the only danger that could foil the escaping soldiers. Guides were selected and operated with a large amount of anonymity so they and the organizers would not be compromised. However, in some cases, these guides were double agents that trapped the people they were tasked with helping. Despite all of the risks, Cavell was instrumental in ferrying over two hundred Allied soldiers across the border.

Despite all of the precautions, the resistance members knew it was only a matter of time before their operation would be discovered. The Germans had been suspicious of the Clinique for a long time, but lacked the hard evidence required to make arrests. Otto Mayer, a member of the German secret police, made his way to Brussels in June 1915 and was tasked with investigating Edith Cavell. That month he paid a visit to the Clinique, which nearly led to the uncovering of four Allied soldiers and other damning evidence. Though nothing was discovered, arrests and interrogations followed for her and many of her nurses before they were released. Marie de Croy recognized that the organization was being swiftly closed in upon, and she appealed to Cavell to stop her operations. Cavell's resolve remained, however, and she committed herself to the continued aid of the soldiers.

Graves of the Executed Resistance Members

George Gaston Quien, a Frenchman who had defected to the German side in exchange for his release, disguised himself as an Allied soldier in need of safe passage out of the country and made his way into the Clinique. He was communicated out in June, and throughout July the Clinique had an increasing number of German inspections and refugees that lacked well known passwords. On 5 August 1915, German authorities entered the Clinique and arrested Cavell. Our article on Nurse Cavell's imprisonment, trial, and execution can be found HERE.  VCU's section can be found HERE.

The execution of Nurse Cavell was met with almost universal condemnation. A German admiral went as far as writing in his 14 October 1915, diary entry that the decision to execute her was one of “Incredible stupidity!” Some have justified the action as a necessary military maneuver made during the stresses of war. Regardless of opinion, the execution proved to be a public relations disaster for Germany. English propagandists seized the opportunity presented to them with great enthusiasm. News stories of the previously unknown nurse were furiously published, exalting her saintly virtues and demonizing the barbaric "Huns." Enlistment rates into the regular army that had slowed down by September 1915, jumped by over 50,000 men until December. 

Australian Recruiting Poster

Allied soldiers continued to escape through Belgium after Edith Cavell’s execution in October 1915. While her arrest and death severely damaged the specific network she worked with, other clandestine networks, such as the Comtesse de Belleville group, continued to operate despite increased German surveillance, helping hundreds more British, French, and Belgian soldiers reach neutral Holland throughout the war.

Dynamic of Destruction: Culture and Mass Killing in the First World War by Alan Kramer

Reims 1918

The dynamic of destruction was not a law of nature, it was man-made, capable of infinite variation ... capable of being stopped before ultimate self-destruction.

If you want to gain a more sophisticated understanding of the causes and effects of the Great War, this book is a fine beginning point. Dr. Kramer teaches at Trinity College, Dublin, and is the author (with John Horn) of A History of Denial, winner of WFA's 2002 Tomlinson Book Prize.

Kramer starts with the burning of Louvain and the atrocities of 1914 in Belgium to peel back the layers of myth and legend about the motivations of the principal European actors in this tragedy. He finds identifiable causes for the cultural destruction and mass killings on the Western Front, on the Italo-Austrian Front, of Armenians in Turkey in 1915, and the collective violence in Russia following the 1917 revolution.

Though he finds no straight connection between German frightfulness and Hitler's holocaust, Kramer sees World War I as a decisive step toward eroding the distinction between soldier and civilian and the development of fascist warfare that totally eradicated that distinction. But, at the same time, while not minimizing German war guilt and picking apart the "stab in the back" excuse for German defeat, he challenges the assertion of a uniquely German development of a total war policy leading to genocide in the Second World War.

In fluid and lucid prose, he explains how this dynamic came about delving into the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913 and unraveling the complexities of prewar European diplomacy and politics. He also looks at European culture and its increasing fascination with violence taking one case study from the emergence of fascism in Italy.

 

Order HERE

In sum, this is an ambitious book in a class by itself deserving of careful reading by any WWI student.

Originally presented in the Spring 2011 issue of Relevance

Fifteen Delightful British Great War Slang Expressions I've Just Discovered

I've been reading all sorts of stuff about World War I since about 1960, but these were all new to me.  MH

AUNT SALLY
Ration truck. From one of the nicknames of the Army Service Corps (ASC). 

An "Aunt Sally" Loading with Rations

BASE RAT

A soldier perpetually at the base, therefore maintaining comfort and safety. Also known as a base wallah.

BUMF

Toilet paper, or newspaper used for that purpose. Later on came to mean any excessive official documentaion. From bum fodder, an 18th-century expression.

CHIN-STRAPPED

Tired, exhausted. From the sense that a man could be so tired he was held upright only by the chinstrap of his cap or helmet.

CUTHBERT

Someone who remained at home in a cushy job, usually an officer posted to the War Office.

A Royal Artillery Officer Displaying His D.S.O.

DICK SHOT OFF

D.S.O.—the Distinguished Service Order, an "officers only" award. Used exclusively by enlisted men.

DONKEY WALLOPER

British cavalryman, especially a member of the Household Cavalry. 

GIEVES, MATTHEW & SEAGROVE

Naval version of Pip, Squeak, and Wilfred, the three WWI campaign medals. From the well-known firm of naval outfitters.

JAKES

Latrines. Expression dating back to Elizabethan times.

One of the "Jakes" at Gallipoli

JUMPING THE BAGS
Going over the top. Attacking over the sandbags of the trench parapet.

LANDOWNER

Dead. To become a landowner was to be dead and buried.

RATS AFTER MOULDY CHEESE; ROB ALL MY COMRADES

Disparaging nicknames for the Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC)

"Rats and Robbers" Manning a British Dressing Station

RUSSIAN SAP

Sap trench dug below ground so that the surface earth was not disturbed.

SILENT DEATH

The practice of waiting quietly at night in no man's land for the advent of a German patrol. The patrol was then dispatched hand-to-hand as quickly and silently as possible by the use of trench knives. Much favoured by the Canadians.

UNCLE CHARLIE

Marching order; full equipment.

"Uncle Charlie" on a Long, Long, Winding Trail

Sources:  I found these scattered around the internet, but they all seem to originate in Paul Hinckley's 2014 booklet Battlefield Colloquialisms—World War I (Available HERE)

Mongolia's Mad Baron and World War One

In the 19th century, Mongolia was absorbed into the Chinese Empire of the Manchurian Qing dynasty, which ruled it as a vassal state. However, at the beginning of the 20th century, Mongolia was sucked into the vortex of global geopolitical instability that featured the overthrow of the Qing dynasty by Sun Yat Sen’s revolution in 1911.

In the chaos, Mongolia launched its bid for freedom. In 1911 a Buddhist theocratic state was established under Bogd Khan (1869–1924), the eighth Jebtsundamba Khutuktu (Holy Precious Master), who ruled a country where one in three men were monks—Mongolia had been proselytized by the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism in the 16th century. For the next decade, Mongolia slipped in an out of independence during the Zhili-Fengtian wars of the northern warlords and their international backers, which included not only Russia but also Japan, Britain, and America.

Bogd Khan

The White Russian-Bolshevik wars featured a dubious cast of military chancers, including Nikolai Robert Maximillian Freiherr von Ungern-Sternberg (1886–1921)  otherwise known as the "Mad Baron." Born from a family of German aristocrats, he claimed descent from Ghengis Khan and dreamt of rebuilding the Mongol empire. As an independent warlord, he intervened in Mongolia's conflict with China. Sternberg began an immediate concentration of power around himself. Though de jure power was held by Bogd Khan, Sternberg acted as the true head of state and began insisting that he was the saviour of the lands of Mongolia and that he would bring the Mongols justice. To further his ambitions, he entered a dynastic marriage with a Manchurian princess. The Mad Baron, a ferocious bully, anti-semite, sadist, mystic, and drunkard, was nevertheless a brilliant horseman and cavalry officer. Above all he was known as a fanatical anti-communist who believed, not without reason, that, "we are not fighting a political party but a sect of murderers of all contemporary spiritual culture."

"Mad Baron"  von Ungern-Sternberg

However, the Mad Baron’s success was short lived. The Soviets, both in Mongolia and Siberia, had been helped by the withdrawal of the pro-White Russian Siberian expeditionary army that comprised Japanese, American, British, Italian, French, Belgium, Polish, Serb, Rumanian, and Chinese forces, which had landed in Vladivostok in August 1918 to engage the Bolsheviks. Their objectives were hopelessly divided by their nations’ conflicting operational parameters. 

Mongolian Cavalry

In August 1921, the Mad Baron was defeated while supporting anti-Soviet forces in Siberia. Captured by the Bolsheviks, he was tried and put in front of a firing squad. Thereafter Bogd Khan ruled under Bolshevik "protection." When this last Jebtsundamba Khutuktu died of cancer—or more likely poisoning—in 1924, he was not replaced. The Soviets consolidated their grip over Mongolia with the establishment of a Communist Mongolian People’s Republic. Later it was fear of the Soviet Union that was the key reason for Japan’s annexation of the whole of Manchuria in 1931 and their subsequent invasion of northern China. With some degree of logic, Japan’s leaders began to fear that unless it took control of a weak Chinese state, the Soviet Union would fill the power vacuum.

Source: The Spectator, 16 September 2023

Weapons of War: The Browning Automatic Rifle

BAR — Original Version

By Bruce N. Canfield

Soon after the United States became embroiled in the war, the legendary American arms designer, John Moses Browning, was in the process of developing several weapons for our military. One was an automatic rifle that was destined to become one of the most respected U.S. military weapons of all time.

An Ordnance Board was appointed on 1 May 1917, to consider various light machine gun and automatic rifle designs for potential adoption by the United States. One of the submissions to the board was an automatic rifle designed by John Browning. Browning's design was the unanimous selection of the board, and the War Department ordered that plans be made to get the weapon into production as soon as possible. Mr. Browning had done the preliminary work on his weapon in conjunction with the Colt Firearms Manufacturing Company, and the firm owned production rights to the weapon. 

John Browning (L) with His Invention

The new weapon was soon known as the Browning Automatic Rifle, or simply the "BAR," and the government wasted no time in securing the manufacturing rights from Colt. Colt wished to manufacture the weapon for the government and sought to build a new plant in Meriden, Connecticut, since its main factory in Hartford was currently operating at near-peak capacity. Colt's request was not approved by the Ordnance Department, as the lag time necessitated by building a new facility, acquiring the necessary manufacturing equipment, and training a work force was too great. 

The government wanted the BAR in production as rapidly as possible. In September 1917, the Ordnance Department negotiated with Colt to transfer the BAR project to the Winchester Repeating Arms Company. This transfer was soon consummated, and Winchester assumed the lead role in the BAR production program. John Browning was well acquainted with Winchester since he had designed many of the arms made by that firm. Contracts for production of the BAR were granted to Winchester, Colt, and the Marlin-Rockwell Corporation.

Soon after Winchester assumed responsibility for the BAR program, the company completed a production prototype of the weapon with assistance from John Browning. It is reported that Winchester borrowed the single handmade prototype from Colt and completed the necessary drawings and prints over a weekend. By working literally around the clock, the Winchester engineering team completed the drawings and returned the prototype to the Colt factory the following Monday morning. 

The new weapon was adopted as the "U.S. Browning Automatic Rifle, Caliber .30, Model of 1918." The arm weighed 16 pounds which, considering its contemporary automatic weapons, was quite light. The weapon had a 24" tapered barrel and was 47" in overall length (including a removable cylindrical flash hider). 

The BAR was chambered for the standard U.S. .30 caliber (.30-06) cartridge and could be fired semi-automatically or fully automatically at a rate of approximately 550 rounds per minute and a muzzle velocity of about 2,800 feet-per-second. The weapon was equipped with a 20-round detachable box magazine. Magazines of larger capacities were tested but not put into production. The rear sight of the BAR was almost identical to the M1917 Enfield rifle sight.

 

Lt. Val Browning Demonstrating the BAR

The BAR was an immediate success, especially compared to the problem-plagued Chauchat. Unfortunately, the weapon was not in use for a long period of time before the war ended. By the time of the Armistice, some 16-18 thousands BARs had arrived in France, although its impossible to determine how many made it to the frontline troops.  A typical reaction among the Doughboys is related in Make the Kaiser Dance: "The day after the Armistice we got word to turn in our Chauchats and draw Browning Automatic Rifles. That BAR was so much better than that damn Chauchat. If we'd only had the BAR six months before, it would have saved so many lives."

This informal assessment is echoed by the official report on ordnance production authored after the war by the Assistant Secretary of War, Benedict Crowell:

The Browning Automatic Rifles were highly praised by the officers and men who had to use them. Although these guns received hard usage, being on the front for days at a time in the rain and when the gunners had little opportunity to clean them, they invariably functioned well. Not only were our own forces enthusiastic, but the allied armies as well, about the Browning guns. . .as soon as they had seen them in action. The best proof of this is that in the summer of 1918 the British, Belgian and French governments all made advances to us as to the possibility of the United States producing Browning Automatic Rifles for their respective forces.

The M1918 BAR remained the standard U.S. automatic rifle after the war. Slightly modified versions saw production and wide use during World War II and Korea and some were used as late as the Vietnam war. Few weapons have as good of a reputation as the BAR. While somewhat of an anachronistic weapon by the time of the Second World War, the BAR was very much "state of the art" in World War I. As aptly stated by one writer: The ultimate proof of the BAR's success is the answer of any Doughboy or G.I. who used one would give when asked what he thought of it; practically to a man they would answer, "It is the best damn gun there ever was. "

Our contributor, Bruce N. Canfield, is one of America's leading experts on small arms. He is the author of: U.S. Infantry Weapons of the First World War, Alan Mowbray, Inc., 2000. 

On Becoming a World War I Historian by E.M. "Mac" Coffman

Edward M. Coffman, Historian of the Great War

Editor's Introduction:  My friend and early mentor Mac Coffman (1929–2020) served as an army infantry officer in Japan and Korea 1951–1953 and subsequently completed his doctorate at the University of Kentucky in 1959. He later joined the faculty of the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where he taught for 31 years, developing an outstanding military history program. He was a member of the Society for Military History, serving as president in 1983–85. In 1990, he received the organization's top award, the Samuel Eliot Morison Prize for outstanding contributions to the field of military history. His influential writings on the American military include The War to End All Wars: The American Military Experience in World War I, still the most essential single work on the subject. His books can be ordered HERE. 

By Edward M. Coffman

In the early 1930s there was a Senate investigation of the significance of American bankers and munitions manufacturers who, it was argued, brought about the  American entrance into the war. This led to several neutrality acts and a peace movement that in 1937 had the support of 95 percent of the American public. As late as 1940 a peace group put out a poster depicting a veteran in a wheelchair with the caption “Hello, Sucker.”

As a schoolboy in the 1930s in Hopkinsville, KY, I was not aware of this attitude toward World War I. My father and most of his friends were veterans whom I respected. There were parades on Armistice Day that impressed me because of the local National Guard troop of cavalry. In grade school, we memorized "In Flanders Field" and stood every year for one minute of silence at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. I knew who General Pershing, Alvin York, and Eddie Rickenbacker were. By 1940, I was in the habit of dropping in to talk with Erskine B. Bassett, a retired National Guard colonel who commanded an infantry regiment in the 92nd Division in the last days of the war. He owned a ladies' store that had to be unique—each counter had World War I posters on its front, and the colors of the 150 Infantry Regiment, the National Guard unit he had commanded earlier in the war, were on top of a shelf. His helmet and sword were by its side. We talked not just about World War I but also about his experiences in National Guard units from the 1880s into the 1920s. With the advent of the American entrance into World War II we discussed that also. 

I was a journalism major as an undergraduate, but my first job after graduation was the army as an infantry officer. While in the army, I decided that I would go to graduate school and major in history. Fortunately, the GI bill paid my way for four years at the University of Kentucky. At that time, in the mid-1950s, I wanted to work on a Civil War topic, but a professor warned me that the field was flooded with books, so I turned to a World War I topic—Peyton C. March as chief of staff of the army—as my dissertation topic. It is a clear indication of the lack of interest in World War I that I then knew of only one other academic who was working on a U.S. Army topic. 

In September 1955 I went with a friend, Carl Begley, with whom I had spent my first year in the Army, to visit Tom Arnold, who had been with us during that year and was then living in Alcoa, Tennessee. On our trip back to Kentucky, I realized that the Yorks lived on the road so Carl and I decided to visit him. We stopped in Jamestown, which we knew was close to where he lived and asked a postal clerk where his home was. He gave us directions and then told us that York had a stroke the year before and was bedridden. He advised us to ask his son, who ran a country store across the highway from the York home, to find out if his father would see us. We stopped at the store and the son said to ask his mother, who told us that he would.

American Hero Alvin York About the Time of Mac's Visit

She took us through the living room to a smaller room where he was sitting up in a bed. He was a large, ruddy-faced man with sandy hair and mustache. He shook hands with us and I told him that I had talked with the widow of the commanding general of the 82nd Division a week or so earlier. He responded in his tenor voice that he remembered "old General Duncan" and his battalion commander, George Buxton. He made us feel at ease and talked about watching TV and the unusual cold weather.

Later, in the advanced stage of my research, I spent two-plus months in the National Archives and became acquainted with other World War I researchers. They were working on different topics, involved with the use of gas by the AEF. They published a limited edition of several excellent monographs for the Chemical Corps. In addition to my research in personal papers, newspapers, and memoirs, I worked on a lot of oral history and corresponded with other significant figures from World War I. This was a great opportunity to be able to ask participants questions.

When I tried to get my March biography published in the early 1960s I became increasingly aware that there was little interest in World War I subjects. Fortunately, the University of Wisconsin Press published The Hilt of the Sword in 1964, but sales were low. By that time I already had a contract from Oxford University Press to write a book on the American participation in the war. A World War I veteran and former governor of Philip LaFollette, made that possible by recommending me to an Oxford Univ. Press editor, Sheldon Meyer. Oxford was planning a series on American wars. As it happened, my The War to End All Wars and Charles MacDonald's The Mighty Endeavor, about the American war in Europe in World War II, were the only volumes in the planned series that were published. 

Oxford Press hoped that my book would sell well because of the significance of the date of publication—1968. In addition, a book about the AEF—The Doughboys—had sold well in 1963. However, the author was the well-known writer Laurence Stallings, a Marine veteran who had lost a leg at Belleau Wood. As publication time neared, I heard that another author, Harvey DeWeerd, was bringing out President Wilson Fights His War as one of the distinguished series that Louis Morton developed for Macmillan Press. When I read DeWeerd's book I was impressed by the difference in our approaches. A third of his book was devoted to the war before the American entry. His coverage of the American part of the war is primarily concerned with diplomacy, strategy, and logistics at the high command level. I was relieved that I had dealt with the American military experience from the time of mobilization to the end of the war and gave the soldiers as well as the leaders due coverage. I should add that when I finally visited the Western Front in 1990 I was very pleased to see that my dependence on the maps in the American Battle Monuments Commission's American Armies and Battle Monuments in Europe (1938) was justified. Having learned a lot in map reading at the Fort Benning Infantry School helped me in recognizing terrain features. 

I was very glad that I could give my father a copy of my book. By then he was referring to himself and other Great War veterans as the “forgotten men.” Over the years, I stayed in touch with some of the veterans I had interviewed. Every time I went to Washington I would visit General Charles L. Bolte, who as a lieutenant had been wounded early in the Meuse-Argonne offensive. I often visited Sidney C. Graves, who led the first American raid against German lines and later wound up in Siberia. On several occasions I also visited Doug Campbell, who was the first U.S. Air Service pilot to achieve ace status after our entry into the war. General Bolte and Campbell lived into their nineties. 

When the French awarded Legions of Honor to surviving American veterans in 1998,  I visited George Fugate, the last veteran surviving in Lexington, KY, and helped him apply for the medal. An in 1999 at age 105. He died in January 1999 at age 105. Unfortunately, his medal did not arrive until a few weeks later.

They are all gone now,  but I know that readers of this article and I will never forget them.

Excerpted from the Journal of the World War One Historical Association, Spring 2012

In 2021, I published a tribute to Mac with more details on my friendship with him, as well as more details on his academic career and achievements. HERE

Map Series #29—Von Spee's Blunder at the Falkland Islands

SMS Leipzig Under Fire at the Falklands

On the morning of 8 December 1914, in preparation for a dash home to Germany, Vice Admiral Maximilian Graf von Spee was advancing his East Asian Squadron to Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands, with the objective of silencing the British communications center there.

His advance ships Gneisenau and Nürnberg, however, reported a substantial British squadron re-coaling in the harbor, although their reports were unclear or misinterpreted about the presence of capital ships.

Admiral von Spee

Von Spee therefore neither appreciated his opportunity to bottle up and possibly disable major ships of his enemy nor factored into his calculations that the two modern battle cruisers on the scene could run down any of his ships in open waters and fire upon him from beyond his own ships' range. He chose to decline battle under the most promising and advantageous conditions and ordered his vessels to break off contact and sail southeast at full speed. 

In a pursuit at sea, the British battle cruisers had multiple advantages over von Spee's ships. Their main batteries had greater range and, though coal-burning, they carried a limited amount of oil allowing maintenance of their great speed for a longer time. Coal-fired ships could only maintain their designated top operational speeds for about eight hours due to the need to clean fires, which required a temporary reduction in speed. 

For von Spee it was both a missed opportunity and doomed escape. He lost his squadron, both his sons, and his own life.  Here is a map showing the battle as it unfolded.  Click on the image to enlarge it.

Sources:  Over the Top, March 2011; World War I Document Archive (Map)

America's Postwar Transcontinental Truck Convoy

In the summer of 1919, a young Lieutenant Colonel—only four years out of West Point—named Dwight D. Eisenhower participated in the first Army transcontinental motor convoy. The expedition consisted of 81 motorized Army vehicles that crossed the United States from Washington, DC, to San Francisco. The convoy was to test the mobility of the military during wartime conditions. As an observer for the Tank Corps, Lt. Col. Eisenhower learned first-hand of the difficulties faced in traveling great distances on roads that were impassable and resulted in frequent breakdowns of the military vehicles. These early experiences influenced his later decisions concerning the building of the interstate highway system during his presidential administration. Since the trip was so meaningful to President Eisenhower's career, his Presidential Library has a wonderful collection of material pertaining to the trip.  This article is primarily a collection of material from that archive.

Departure
Trip Log: 7 July 1919

Departed Camp Meigs, 8:30 A.M. Dedicated Zero Milestone at the Ellipse, Potomac Park, 10 A.M. Departed Washington 11:15 A.M. Stopped for lunch at Rockville, Md., 12:30 P.M.  Trail mobile Kitchen broke coupling,  2:50 P.M. Fan Belt broke on White Observation Car. Militor towed Class B, with broken magneto coupling, one mile in to camp at Frederick Fair Grounds.  Fair and warm.  Road excellent. made 46 miles in  7¼ hours. Arrived Frederick, Md., 6:30 P.:M.  [At this time Tank Corps observer Lt. Col. Dwight D. Eisenhower joined the convoy.]

The Mission

The principal objectives of the expedition were to service test the special-purpose vehicles developed for use in the first World War, not all gf which were available in time for such use and to determine by actual experience the possibility and the problems involved in moving an army across the continent, assuming that railroad facilities, bridges, tunnels, etc. had been damaged or destroyed by agents of an Asiatic enemy. The expedition was assumed to be marching through enemy country and therefore had to be self-sustaining throughout, in addition to surmounting all of the obstacles interposed by mechanical difficulties, unfavorable road, bridge, topographical, and weather conditions.

  

The Route

The expedition crossed eleven states in addition to the District of Columbia, and passed through about 350 communities. The total distance traveled, Washington, DC, to San Francisco, CA  was 3,251 miles in 62 days.  The chosen route closely followed the only partially paved "Lincoln Highway".  Conceived in 1912 and formally dedicated October 31, 1913, it was the first road to cross the United States. It ran from Times Square in New York City to Lincoln Park in San Francisco. In 1925, the US Bureau of Public Roads eliminated named trails and highways, and Lincoln Highway became a drab series of numbers: US 1, US 30, US 40, US 50.

Lt. Col. Eisenhower During the Trip

The personnel consisted of 24 expeditionary officers, 15 War Department staff observation officers, and 258 enlisted men. Twenty-one men were lost through various injuries en route. In his report, Eisenhower was critical of the overall discipline of the men.

Initially hoping to travel 18 mph, there were problems with equipment, inexperienced mechanics and drivers, as well as poor roads and bridges.  The average road speed for the trip turned out to be 5.66 mph.

The route was filled with wooden bridges whose reliability could be tested only by driving a vehicle over them.

There were 230 road accidents (almost 4 per day), that is, instances of road failure and vehicles sinking in the soil, running off the road or over embankments, overturning, or other mishaps due entirely to the unfavorable and at times appalling traffic conditions that were encountered.

There were three instances involving an aggregate period of forty-two hours, which were spent in the most arduous and heroic effort in rescuing the entire convoy from impending disaster on the quicksands of the Salt Lake Desert in Utah and the Fallow Sink Region in Nevada. In these emergencies, the entire personnel, regardless of rank, engaged in rescue and salvage operations

The Rear Section of Convoy Near Salt Lake City
Usually the full moving convoy was about 2 miles long.

Crossing the Sierra Nevadas
Tractors were needed to move larger trucks up the grade.

 

Parading Through San Francisco's Civic Center
Trip Log: 6 September 1919

Departed Oakland, 8:30 a.m. Convoy crossed San Francisco Bay on two ferry boats, and. immediately paraded through the city to Lincoln Park. "The end of the Trail", where medals were presented to entire personnel by the Lincoln Highway Assn.  Convoy was formally received by Col. R.N. Noble, representing Lt. General Hunter Liggett, Commanding General, Western Department and Mayor James Rolph, Jr.  Milestone marking western terminus of Lincoln Highway dedicated [with French Maréchal  Ferdinand Foch among the welcoming committee]. Red Cross Canteen Service served lunch. Convoy parked at the Presidio. Fair and Warm. Made 8 miles in 3 hrs. 

Lt. Col. Eisenhower's full trip report can be downloaded HERE.

Sources: The Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, NoeHill California Travels, Celebrating the 1919 Army Convoy on the Lincoln Highway. 

A special thanks to our friend Robin Clayton of WLRC radio in Walnut, MS, for inspiring this article.

Who Won at Jutland?—John Keegan's View

The Battle of Jutland, 31 May to 1 June, 1916
By Robert Henry Smith

An Excerpt from The Price of Admiralty

At 9:45 [the evening of 2 June 1916] Jellicoe reported to the Admiralty that his warships were ready to steam out again on four hours’ notice. That signal writes the strategic verdict on Jutland. Britain’s navy re­mained fit for renewed action, however soon it should come. Germany’s did not. [Nonetheless] the kaiser preferred to ignore this fact. He exulted that “the magic Trafalgar has been broken,” distributed Iron Crosses wholesale to the crews of the High Seas Fleet when he visited it on June 5, and kissed many of the captains. He promoted Scheer to full admiral and invested him with the Pour le Merite, Germany’s highest military honor. . . “The High Seas Fleet,” Scheer said in his report to the kaiser, “will be ready by the middle of August for further strikes against the enemy.”

True to Scheer’s word, the High Seas Fleet did put to sea, on August 19, and steamed north to bring the English east coast town of Sunderland under bombardment. Scheer’s approach was covered, however, by 10 of the zeppe­lins he had not been able to take to Jutland, and when one reported that the Grand Fleet was bearing down on him from the Scottish anchorages, he reversed course and raced for home. The Admiralty cryptographers had de­tected his sortie, and were to do so again when he next put to sea, in October, with the same humiliating outcome. That was to be the High Seas Fleet’s last open challenge to the Royal Navy.

[In June 1916] Germany could publicly celebrate Jutland because the raw “exchange ratio” was in its favor. The High Seas Fleet had inflicted far greater damage than it had suffered. Three British battlecruisers, the Indefatigable, Invincible, and Queen Mary, were sunk, as were three armored cruisers, the Black Prince, Defence, and Warrior, and eight destroyers. And five British capital ships had suffered hits by 11-inch shells or heavier, notably the Lion, Tiger, and Warspite. The High Seas Fleet, by contrast, had lost only one battlecruiser, the Lützow; the other ship casualties were either pre-dreadnoughts like the Pommern or secondary units like the four light cruisers and five torpedo boats. . .

Three to one, in rude terms, did make Jutland look more like a German than a British victory. But calculated in refined rather than crude terms, the “exchange ratio” was very much more in  Britain’s  than  Germany’s  favor. Three of her fast battleships–Warspite, Barham, and Malaya–had suffered damage requiring dockyard attention. But the battleship fleet itself was al­most unscathed; and despite losses, the Battle Cruiser Fleet on June 1 still outnumbered the German 1st Scouting Group, which moreover was crippled by damage. The German dreadnought battleships had also suffered  griev­ously. König, Markgraff, and Grosser Kurfurst all needed major refits when they returned to port, and the German battle line could  not have met the British at four weeks’ notice, let alone four hours’, except at risk of outright defeat. The balance of forces had not been significantly altered by relative losses. The Grand Fleet still outnumbered Scheer’s, 28 dreadnoughts to 16.

This Selection Is from Keegan's 56-page
Chapter on Jutland
Order the Book HERE.

The human cost, however, had fallen far more heavily on the  British. True, her long tradition of “following the sea” and her large seafaring popula­tion made her losses easier to replace than the German. But the truth was that over 6,600 British officers and sailors had gone down with their ships or been killed on their decks while the  Germans had lost only a few more than 2,000.

John Keegan