The Wartime Lynching of Robert Prager

By Derek Varble

The Victim

Robert Paul Prager was born on 28 February 1888 in Dresden, Germany. He emigrated from Germany to Baltimore, Maryland, United States of America in April 1905. Prager’s peripatetic American life, in which he often worked as a baker, took him west to Lake County in the northwest corner of Indiana, to various municipalities in Nebraska, and by 1916 to St. Louis, Missouri. A year later when the United States entered World War I, Prager’s attempt at naval enlistment proved unsuccessful, probably as a result of physical disqualification. Prager also submitted paperwork seeking to become a naturalized U.S. citizen, a process that was under way at the time of his death. 

Later in 1917, Prager relocated to Collinsville, approximately 12 miles east of St. Louis in Madison County, Illinois. He subsequently worked as a nighttime laborer at a local coal mine, where he sought to join a local mining  union in hopes of securing a miner’s higher pay. For unknown reasons, Prager ran afoul of union bureaucrats controlling labor accessions in the mines who in early 1918 accused him, without evidence, of espionage and sabotage activities as a German agent. Because of his alleged “disloyalty” to the United States and lack of mining experience, they denied him union membership, meaning that he would not be employed as a miner there nor accrue the associated pay raise.

The Context

Bituminous coal deposits underlying Madison County made it a hub of mining and smelting activity, with coal from local mines fueling nearby large-scale smelting activities that recovered zinc, lead, and other metals, resources that were much in demand upon U.S. entry into World War I. Rich Illinois coal seams also powered the engines of locomotives and vessels that transported military personnel and their weapons, foodstuffs, and countless other commodities across the continent and ultimately to Europe in support of the victory over Germany. A torrid, war-energized economy drove surging inflation, difficult working and living conditions such as scarce, often inadequate housing, and myriad other challenges that roiled workplaces in Madison County and elsewhere across the country. In early July 1917, just a few months after the U.S. entered the war, dozens or perhaps even hundreds—the exact death toll may never be known—perished when labor conflict engulfed East St. Louis, in the county immediately south of Madison County. This unrest occurred in tandem with racial strife accompanying the so-called “Great Migration” of African-Americans relocating north to contribute to the wartime mobilization effort. 

Upheaval arrived in Madison County itself later that year with labor union campaigns to organize local industry, some of which had never before had a unionized workforce and opposed any change to that heritage. Suspicions ran high that immigrants, whether African-Americans newly arrived from the South or those coming from outside the country, possessed dubious loyalty to the organized labor movement and, more generally, to the U.S. cause in its hostilities against Germany. A newcomer to the workplace might attempt to destroy local mines through sabotage, or might attempt to destroy unions by crossing striking workers’ picket lines. An outsider like Prager, lacking as he was in any bona fides that validated his loyalty to either cause, was therefore hardly welcome amidst the near paranoia that predominated in early 1918.

Robert Prager

The Murder

Prager’s conflict with union officials in his attempt to gain union membership and employment as a miner resulted in a mob, many of whom were intoxicated, abducting him from his residence. These captors then forced Prager to march along Collinsville’s streets while, over the course of several hours, they repeatedly assaulted him with punches and kicks, forced him to walk barefoot over tacks, and subjected him to other forms of torture.

Collinsville police officers were on the scene but failed to intervene. At Bluff Hill just west of Collinsville, in the early morning darkness of 5 April 1918, several of those in the mob placed a noose on a hackberry tree and proceeded to kill Prager by hanging. His last request, after he had written a letter to his family informing them of his imminent death, was burial wrapped in an American flag. His body hung from the hackberry tree on Bluff Hill until city officials recovered it later that day. He was buried at St. Matthew Cemetery in the Bevo Mill neighborhood of St. Louis.

Searches of Prager’s residence after his murder yielded no evidence that Prager had known of, planned, or participated in espionage, sabotage, or other subversive activity of any kind.

The Trial

On 12 April 1918, two days after Prager was laid to rest, 12 men were indicted for his murder. Only 11 of the 12 indicted individuals could be located for arraignment, which took place on 2 May 1918 and resulted in all 11, who ranged in age from 17 to 44, pleading not guilty. Four Collinsville police officers who had been on duty at the time of Prager’s murder were also indicted on different charges relating to a failure to discharge their official duties. All 11 defendants were tried together at the courtroom of Third Judicial Circuit Judge Louis Bernreuter (1863–1944) in Madison County seat Edwardsville, with the trial opening on 13 May 1918. 

The prosecution subsequently called 26 witnesses in an attempt to link the defendants with Prager’s homicide. On 1 June 1918, the jury acquitted all 11 men. Charges were later dropped against the four Collinsville police officers, and no one else was ever indicted, let alone tried, in relation to Prager’s death. 

The Lynch Party Jury After the Verdict

Legacy

The lynching was broadly, but not universally, condemned. Besides Robert Prager, hundreds of other Americans—a high percentage of whom were Black—were lynched during the war years.  In July 1918 President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation denouncing lynching. It included this appeal to his countrymen:

I therefore very earnestly and solemnly beg that the governors of all the States, the law officers of every community, and, above all, the men and women of every community in the United States, all who revere America and wish to keep her name without stain or reproach, will cooperate--not passively merely, but actively and watchfully--to make an end of this disgraceful evil. It can not live where the community does not countenance it.

Source:  Excerpted from "Robert Prager", Encyclopedia 1914-1918; Wikipedia; NPR

Remembering a Veteran: The Hon. Edward Barry Stewart Bingham, VC, Royal Navy

Commander Edward Bingham, RN, (1881–1939) saw notable service at sea during the early years of the war aboard battlecruiser HMS Invincible at Heligoland Bight and the Falklands.  The third son of Lord Clanmorris, Edward Bingham was born in Bangor Castle, County Down, Ireland. Educated at Arnold House and aboard training ship HMS Britannia, he entered the Royal Navy in 1895.

Promoted for his service, he commanded a destroyer flotilla at Jutland where he ordered a daring attack in the night action. He was taken prisoner when his own ship, HMS Nestor, was sunk. Bingham's leadership and anticipation enabled the crew to prepare to abandon ship. As a result, 75 men from the Nestor were rescued by German torpedo boats. He was held as a prisoner of war at the notorious Holzminden prisoner of war camp.

Bingham held a number of naval commands and prestigious staff positions after the Armistice, until his retirement as a rear admiral in 1932. His Victoria Cross is on display at the North Downs Museum in Bangor Castle (shown above).

A Sister Ship of the Same Class as HMS Nestor

He was decorated with the Victoria Cross by King George V on 13 December 1918 at Buckingham Palace. The citation reads:

For the extremely gallant way in which he led his division in their attack, first on enemy destroyers and then on their battle cruisers. He finally sighted the enemy battle-fleet, and, followed by the one remaining destroyer of his division (“Nicator”), with dauntless courage he closed within 3,000 yards of the enemy in order to attain a favourable position for firing the torpedoes. While making this attack, “Nestor” and “Nicator” were under concentrated fire from the secondary batteries of the High Sea Fleet. “Nestor” was subsequently sunk.

Sources: VC & GC Association; Wikipedia

Out of the "Blunders and "Inefficiencies" of the Spanish-American War Emerged the 20th-Century U.S. Army

A Fanciful Depiction of the Initial Landing in Cuba

The Coming of War

[When war with Spain was decided] A desperately overworked and understaffed War Department, suddenly confronted by the strange necessity of actually waging a war, found itself signing contracts, issuing orders, and trying to prepare its plans in an appalling and developing confusion.  . . 

While above the whole of this incomparable chaos there reigned a mild-mannered, inoffensive gentleman who was permitted by the exigencies of our democratic institutions to give to it anything but his undivided attention. Incredible as it may seem, we have it upon Secretary Russell Alger's own statement: "The office of the Secretary was daily visited by not less than one hundred persons whose business or position entitled them to a personal hearing. So urgent was the pressure that almost the entire day was given up to them. Therefore it became necessary to devote the greater part of the night and Sundays to the consideration of the administrative features of department work. . . 

In this atmosphere the plans were made; and in this way the nation swung cheerfully into a war which it was to allow its War Secretary to conduct only in his spare time. . . there was no general plan; the various troop concentrations were ordered, cancelled, ordered again, enlarged, postponed, from week to week, and no one ever, at any given moment, knew where he was or what he was supposed to be doing. "There were," as the Quartermaster-General later pathetically testified, "so many changes."

The Spanish-American War was a kind of unconscious parody of the great struggles that had preceded it, as it became a parody of those that were to follow. Therein lay its real tragedy, rather than in its very brief toll of death and destruction. . . [Yet] the war was directly responsible for the rapid upbuilding of the Navy which had made us by 1909 the world's second naval power. The Army reforms, unavoidable after the blunders and inefficiencies of 1898, laid the foundations for the organization, command and staff planning, and weapons design which alone made possible the massive intervention in Europe in 1918.

Quotes from The Martial Spirit by Walter Millis

Two Secretaries of War

Russell Alger (Wartime) & Elihu Root (Postwar)

The Reforms

The United States participation in the Spanish-American War exposed the military establishment's overall ineptitude. It was likely that a fight against a stronger foe than Spain would have resulted in disaster. The army, in particular, was in need of thorough reorganization. President McKinley, in one of his most astute moves, appointed Elihu Root to head the Department of War. The successful corporation lawyer from New York remained in that office during the first administration of Theodore Roosevelt. Major accomplishments made during the period from 1900 to 1903 included:

• A fourfold increase in the army's size, resulting in a 100,000-man force

• Federalizing the National Guard, a response to numerous problems generated by volunteer forces largely under states' control during the recent war

• Improved officer training through the creation of the Army Staff College and the Army War College

• The creation of a general staff (later to be the Joint Chiefs of Staff) as an advisory body for the secretary of war (later the secretary of defense).

There is a parallel account about the U.S. Navy's experience in the Spanish-American War that will be presented here some day. MH.

Sources: U-S-History.com

War Through the Eyes of Tin Pan Alley!

Brooke Anderson

The American 19th century was one of growth and consolidation. By the end of the century we had become an industrial nation and a power in the western hemisphere and an industrial society with interests overseas. The population had grown from five million in 1800 to 90 million a hundred years later. Within that growth were 17 million immigrants who came to America between 1880 and 1910 for freedom and opportunity, many of them from Europe.

At the start of WWI, President Wilson declared American neutrality and even ran for reelection in 1916 with the slogan “He kept us out of war.” Obviously there were varying opinions as to neutrality, but much of America supported Wilson, and there was much activism for peace.

On 29 August 1914, shortly after the start of the war, a large peace march was carried out in New York City. Many of the organizers and participants were also suffragettes, already an organization of strength with reaches into high society as well. The mayor of NYC had forbade parades which favored a specific combatant, but this group was marching for universal peace.

The theme of the parade was mourning for those already lost in war and those who would be lost. The marchers wore black for mourning or white with black armbands for peace. The parade progressed down Fifth Ave. from 58th Street to Union Square. The marchers included Black American, Indian, and Chinese women. 

The next organization to form was the Women’s Peace Party, which was founded on 10 January 1915. From that beginning, women across the country formed their own chapters of the WPP. The next step was international as the telegram allowed rapid communication followed up by more detailed letters. After months of planning, women of both belligerent and neutral countries came together at the International Congress of Women at the Hague in the spring of 1915. Not surprisingly, they did not stop war, but their ideas did influence Woodrow Wilson in the creation of his Fourteen Points proposal.

In today’s world, music distribution is a high-tech process using radio, TV, and the internet. In the early 20th century, high-tech was sheet music, sold in stores and introduced in many of those stores by song pluggers. Tin Pan Alley flourished, churning out songs by the bushel, and many of those songs reflected the feelings of the nation. 

Which brings us to “The Neutrality March.” I was pleased to find a copy, as the cover is extremely well done—and very clever. From 1914 to 1917 there was a strong feeling in America for neutrality; the war was a distant European affair, not for us. And sheet music helped to bolster that feeling. A quick glance at this piece of American sheet music seems to show a colorful and patriotic image. However, a closer look reveals a surprise. The seemingly traditional portrait of Uncle Sam is actually that of a woman! And there is no American flag included. But the song title hints at the reason behind this mystery.  This piece is a distinct nod of approval to those women who created the peace march of August 1914.  As well, it may also recognize the efforts of the WPP. Other sheets underlined the desire for neutrality as well.

The desire for neutrality lessened as the war continued. Feelings changed, aided by the sinking of the Lusitania, the open submarine warfare in the Atlantic, and finally the Zimmerman Telegram, which revealed Germany's plan to access our border with the aid of Mexico. President Wilson declared war on 6 April 1917, and sheet music followed suit. 

War had been declared, a draft instituted and training began. The next step was the actual movement of U.S. troops to France. Once again, sheet music has it covered, including a Norman Rockwell cover of the famous George M. Cohan song “Over There.”

The 16th Regiment of the U.S. 1st Division was the first to arrived in France on 26 June 1917. The war had devolved into a stalemate of trench warfare in which both sides fought for ground in No Man's Land. The cost in lives was horrendous—and for little real gain. The arrival of fresh U.S. troops made a huge difference, and now the battle could be taken to the enemy offensively. Interesting fact: by the end of the war on 11 November 1918,  America had four million men in uniform and two million overseas! Once again, sheet music mirrored the action. Berlin was the objective in song, but the furthest the Allies got was to cross the Rhine. 

So, there you have it—WWI seen through the eyes of Tin Pan Alley! An effective method of supporting and endorsing government goals from neutrality to reality—war. However, there is another story. Not everyone was for neutrality, and many young men joined the war effort prior to 1917. Those efforts ranged from individuals joining the Canadian and British armies or French Foreign Legion to signing on with volunteer groups such as the Lafayette Escadrille or the American Field Service (AFS) as ambulance drivers.

U.S. Naval Planners Meet the Reality of War

 

Return of the Mayflower
Painting by Bernard F. Gribble. U.S. Naval Academy

By Paul Halpern

The United States Navy entered the First World War in the process of unparalleled expansion. The days of a fleet configured solely for coast defense and the guerre de course against a far stronger foe, such as the Royal Navy, were long gone. Moreover, the most likely enemies had changed. They were now Germany, reflected in War Plan BLACK, and Japan, covered by War Plan ORANGE. In 1903, the General Board of the U.S. Navy had set as its goal for 1920 a force of 48 battleships with a set ratio of support ships. For every two battleships there would be one armored cruiser, three "protected" cruisers, four scout cruisers, three destroyers, and two colliers, making a total of 370 ships, not counting repair vessels and store ships. But Congressional funding for this program was not always assured. Only a single battleship, instead of the planned two per year, had been laid down in 1913 (the USS  Pennsylvania) and 1914 (the USS Arizona). The General Board repeatedly called for more scout cruisers, only to find that Congress preferred battleships and destroyers. Consequently, the navy was far from its goals when war broke out.

The war in Europe made War Plan BLACK highly unrealistic. That plan anticipated the American fleet operating from an advanced base at Culebra, Puerto Rico—presumed to be a German objective—meeting a German invasion force attempting to seize an island in the West Indies. While Culebra had indeed been an objective in German war planning in the event of conflict with the United States, such action became less likely once Germany was at war with Great Britain.

U.S. Battleships of the Period

The outbreak of war in Europe saw increasing emphasis on "preparedness," culminating in the Naval Act of August 1916, just two and one-half months after the Battle of Jutland. The Act authorized the laying down of ten battleships and six battlecruisers over a three-year period. The battleships were to be as large or larger than any foreign equivalent: the first four, the Colorado-class, to be of 32,000 tons with eight 16-inch guns; the next six, the South Dakota-class, to be 42,000 tons with twelve 16-inch guns. The capital ships were to be supported by ten scout cruisers, 50 destroyers, nine fleet-type submarines, and 67 coastal defense submarines. The construction was to commence by July 1919 and be completed by 1922 or 1923.

This program, though, was not specifically aimed at American intervention in the war. It reflected, rather, the desire to be ready for any and all eventualities whatever the outcome of the war, to include a hostile coalition led by Germany in the Atlantic and Japan in the Pacific. The navy had to be ready to fight in the Caribbean, the Pacific, or, in the worst case, in both at once. The result was a planned fleet top heavy in capital ships, even though the Battle of Jutland had sent mixed signals regarding the role of capital ships in future war. And the naval war in Europe was demonstrating the need for smaller ships to counter the submarine threat.

The eventual American intervention in the war came in April 1917, in part as a response to German resumption of unrestricted submarine warfare. April 1917 was the worst month of the war for the Allies with respect to losses from submarines. Had that rate of sinking continued, it is possible that the Allies might have lost the war. This fact was made clear to Rear Admiral William Sims, president of the Naval War College, who had been ordered to Britain to liaison with the Admiralty on the eve of America's entry into the war. In fact, the ship he traveled on, the American Line's New York, had been damaged by a submarine-laid mine approaching Liverpool. When Sims met with his counterparts at the Admiralty, the First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, was shockingly frank about the crisis. The Admiralty, in desperation, was being forced to implement the convoy system. This, though, was easier said than done, for it could only be commenced gradually and required large numbers of smaller ships—primarily destroyers—as escorts. While an erroneous overestimation of the number of escorts required had been one of the reasons for delaying implementation, there was still a considerable shortfall. The Admiralty said they needed thirty-two additional destroyers to begin convoying inbound traffic in the North and South Atlantic.

Sims, who was subsequently named commander of U.S. naval forces in European waters, was an early advocate of the convoy system. On 14 April, he cabled Washington his recommendations that the maximum number of American destroyers be made available at once. Sims argued that the timely arrival of even a modest number at this critical moment of the war might exert some strategic leverage, given the fact that it would take time for the United States to mobilize sufficient military resources to have any impact on the war. The destroyers could work out of Queenstown, on the southern coast of Ireland, with an additional advanced base at Berehaven (Bantry Bay). Sims recommended that the destroyers be accompanied by other antisubmarine craft, support and repair ships, and the staff to man the bases. He added further recommendations that were less welcome in Washington, even if they were patently obvious. Under the present circumstances, he claimed, American battleships would have little effect. And naval resources should not be held back, he said, to counter possible German submarine activity in the Western Atlantic. Any such activity was likely to be little more than minor raids intended to influence public opinion and divert resources.

The initial, limited response of the Navy Department was to order Commander Joseph Taussig and six destroyers from the Eighth Division, Destroyer Force, Atlantic Fleet, to Europe. Taussig, in the USS . Wadsworth, led Davis, Conyngham, McDougal, Wainwright, and Porter into Queenstown on 4 May, an event commemorated in the well-known painting by Bernard Gribble, The Return of the Mayflower [Above]. The omens were good. Taussig found a personal letter of welcome from the First Sea Lord awaiting him. The two had met in China in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion. Taussig also made a good first impression on the British commander-in-chief at Queenstown, the redoubtable Admiral Sir Louis Bayly, reputed to be one of the most ferocious characters in the Royal Navy. When asked how long it would take his storm-battered destroyers to be ready, Taussig reportedly answered: "We are ready now, sir, that is as soon as we finish refueling. Of course, you know how destroyers are always wanting something done to them. But this is war, and we are ready to make the best of things and go to sea immediately." In fact, his destroyers had a long list of defects. Bayly allowed them four days to be fitted with depth charges and have the topmasts lowered to reduce visibility.

Destroyer USS Shaw (DD-68) Under Construction
 at Mare Island Shipyard

Six destroyers, however welcome, were not enough to turn the tide. Sims, supported by the American ambassador in London, asked for more. Similar requests were made by the Admiralty through the British mission in Washington. There were 51 modern destroyers in the American fleet, but Sims and the British had to counter strong reservations about stripping the United States of its destroyer force. Admiral William Benson, Chief of Naval Operations, was not an admirer of the British. The admittedly Anglophile Sims suffered from the charge that he was too much under the influence of too much under the influence of the English. In fact, Benson had warned Sims before his departure: "Don't let the British pull the wool over your eyes. It is none of our business pulling their chestnuts out of the fire. We would as soon fight the British as the Germans."

Benson was certainly aware of the immediate crisis and of the necessity to support the antisubmarine campaign, but he had his eye on the future as well. A memorandum prepared by his staff in February 1917 concluded:

Vessels should be built not only to meet present conditions but conditions that may come after the present phase of the world war... We may expect the future to give us more potential enemies than potential friends so that our safety must lie in our own resources." The General Board recommended: "Keep constantly in view the possibility of the United States being in the not distant future compelled to conduct a war single-handed against some of the belligerents, and steadily increase the ships of the fighting line, large as well as small, but doing this with as little interference with the building of destroyers and other small craft for the Navy and cargo ships for the Merchant Marine as possible.

USS Dixie (AD-1)

In May, another two divisions of destroyers arrived with the destroyer tender USS  Melville, designated flagship of the force. In early June yet another destroyer division arrived along with a second tender, the USS  Dixie. By the end of the month, 28 American destroyers were escorting convoys, rather than simply conducting patrols as had been the original plan. The Admiralty had gone fully to the convoy system. The Navy Department was somewhat reluctant to follow suit. Benson and Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels put more emphasis on armed merchant ships sailing independently, at one point even suggesting the already discredited method of patrolled sea lanes. Yet, Daniels and Benson continued to send all available destroyers; by the end of August, the number at Queenstown had risen to 35.

The results shown by the convoy system brought the Americans around. After considerable internal debate, in which the now-converted Benson reportedly "went to the mat," the American naval building priorities were changed. On 21 July 1917, Secretary Daniels ordered construction of new battleships to cease. Priority was to be given to destroyers and other anti-submarine craft. He authorized construction of what would eventually total 266 destroyers. A reluctant General Board grudgingly admitted that some change in emphasis was required, but reiterated that the battleship was still the principal factor of sea power and warned that a new realignment of powers after the war must not find the U.S. fleet unprepared to face possible enemies in the Atlantic or Pacific.

Once the yards were ready, procedures established, materials assembled or prefabricated, destroyer construction could be rapid. The record was set by the Mare Island Navy Yard, where the USS Ward was launched 1 June 1918, just seventeen days after the keel was laid. She was commissioned less than two months later. This was, however, something of a stunt; most destroyer construction took two to three times longer. Nevertheless, the rapid pace ensured that many of these mass-produced destroyers suffered defects such as leaky seams and loose rivets. Only a few of the newly authorized destroyers, the 1,090-ton "flush deckers" of the Wickes and Clemson classes, were completed before the end of the war.

The same was true of the 500-ton Eagle-class of patrol boats, "Ford boats," built at shipyards on the Great Lakes in assembly line fashion by the Ford Motor Company. One hundred twelve were ordered (including 12 for Italy that were never delivered); only 60 were completed, and most of those were after the war. Orders for the rest were canceled. A significant portion of the anti-submarine war was actually carried out by improvised craft: gunboats, converted yachts, Coast Guard cutters, and old cruisers.

The emphasis on construction of destroyers and other anti-submarine craft had another disadvantage. The navy had only a handful of what might be considered modern, fast scout cruisers, a class of warship that had repeatedly proven its value during the war. The first of the Omaha class, authorized in the 1916 program, would not even be laid down until after the Armistice. Had the United States fleet been forced to fight a major naval action on its own, the absence of those cruisers would have been significant.

Source:  Relevance, Spring 2004

The Daughters of Mars

By Thomas Keneally

Penguin Books, 2013

Jay Jarini, Reviewer, 

The Guardian, 9 November 2012

War has been a fixation in the novels of Thomas Keneally, the extremely gifted Australian who won the Booker prize in 1982 with Schindler's Ark. One thinks back to Gossip from the Forest (1975), a stunning novel about the forging of the armistice in 1918 or, perhaps his finest work, Confederates (1979), focused on a march during the American civil war, where the daily hardships of a soldier's life come painfully into view. Now with The Daughters of Mars, his 29th novel, Keneally revisits the first world war from the perspective of two sisters, nurses who see the blood and guts of this conflict from the periphery, on hospital ships and operating theatres.

Keneally moves easily between fact and fiction, here as in many of his other books, which often seem difficult to classify. The latest novel is based on solid research—from the diaries of nurses in the war. But this historical material seems vividly present here.

The two main characters are Sally and Naomi Durrance, Australian sisters who didn't especially get along throughout their youth. Naomi is older, and "seemed confident in all things", Keneally tells us, with the kind of old-fashioned omniscience one rarely encounters in fiction nowadays. "Even before high school Sally felt subject to bemused comparisons with Naomi by teachers and other girls. Some of it was her own sense of being less. Some of it was real. Naomi was good at the outside world. It was only with the inner world of the family that she took on an air of distance and exile."

Sally stayed behind on the dairy farm in New South Wales, where her mother is dying of cancer as the novel opens. Naomi returns from the big city to help. They conspire to ease her death, and this produces an overwhelming guilt that runs through the novel, shaping them in unlikely ways. So unlikely, in fact, that it strikes a rare false note. Their collusion here is meant to be a huge secret that binds them, but in fact it's their experience of war that brings them together. As Naomi later observes, war itself becomes "a machine to make us true sisters".

As soon as the fighting begins, the sisters volunteer, and Keneally follows them from Gallipoli to the western front. Their gallantry—and that of their medical colleagues—is coolly depicted, with technical detail that is sometimes overpowering. But when it works, Keneally's method produces a sharp realism, as when Sally eases the bloody bandage off a wounded man to discover "a cavity created by something larger than a bullet—a shard of shrapnel, say—and edging from it an unexpected snake of the stomach-lining named omentum, yellow amidst blood, lacy and frayed, hanging out of the slashed gut".

Probably too much research clogs the narrative arteries of this book; but Keneally is a novelist to his fingertips, and the story is never far away. And what a story it is, moving from the cosy boredom of rural Australia, to exotic Egypt, to operating theatres and medical staging points, from Gallipoli to Lemnos to Rouen and Amiens. We see the blackened villages of Normandy and many other sites in embattled Europe.

There are magnificent set-pieces, such as the torpedoing of the Archimedes, a hospital ship that serves wounded men from Gallipoli in the Dardenelles. This scene unfolds over 40 pages, and it's a stunning performance, full of suspense, searing particulars, and deep emotion. One has already come to know many of the nurses, including the Durrance sisters, as well as some of the wounded men, and so the pity of war seems all the more excruciating. One listens sadly to the voices of wounded survivors as they float in the deep water: "It seemed perhaps a thousand spoke at once."

We are treated to countless vignettes along the way, as soldiers pour out their woes to the sympathetic ears of nurses who understand that listening is more than half their job. I put down this novel missing these people, especially those who flash before us and fade: simple lives brought to ruin by the ruins of war. Keneally manages to conjure the vast territories—geographical and emotional—covered by the first world war. He does so with a thousand details, which add to the lyrical realism of the novel.

Order HERE

Of course there are love stories, rather inevitable and not especially interesting or memorable. And not quite knowing how to conclude the novel, Keneally offers a peculiar, bifurcated ending that doesn't work. But in truth this doesn't matter. This is a novel on an epic scale: its plenitude and anguish are life-enhancing, and the huge talents of Thomas Keneally are everywhere on display.

Langemarck and the German Dead of Ypres — Video

 

The Doughboys Meet Shell Shock—The Context

Two Exhausted Doughboys "Off Duty"
By Harvey Dunn

Almost 70,000 U.S. men in World War One were permanently evacuated from the line [for what was in those times mislabeled as "Shell Shock"].  More than 36,000 of these men were hospitalized for long periods from its effects. All told, 158,994 Doughboys were inactivated for some time for psychiatric reasons, [about 7.5% of all the men deployed to France, or nearly double that percentage for the likely victims, the 1 to 1.2 million troops who got to the front line.]

Veterans of Foreign Wars Magazine, Sept. 1997

Editor's Introduction

When I first ran across the figures quoted above—almost 30 years ago—I was astonished.  I had known, of course, of the phenomenon, but I had no feel for the scale of the damage that had been done to America's forces.  Re-reading the article sourced above in February 2026 has led me into a renewed level of astonishment. Recall that the AEF conducted major combat operations for only five and one-half months. Looking for some explanation for these huge numbers in published sources, I found a very helpful 2002 article on the Doughboy experience, "Americans as Warriors: 'Doughboys' in Battle during the First World War" by Professor Jennifer D. Keene.  In  this excerpt, while not getting into the psychological roots of shell shock or the modern approaches to PTSD, she vividly describes the experience of World War One combat and the battlefield environment into which  inexperienced, under-trained men were thrown in 1918, and the early methods of patient care the injured received.  After reading the selection, I think you will have a better appreciation of why the Doughboys suffered so many shell shock casualties.

The Eyes Have It
Men of the 314th Infantry During the Meuse-Argonne

By Jennifer D. Keene

In the trenches, American soldiers adjusted to living with mud, rats, human waste, and the stench of decomposing bodies. Constant artillery barrages and the ever present threat of an attack frayed the nerves of even the most steadfast. "To be shelled is the worse thing in the world," author Hervy Allen of the 28th Division noted. "It is impossible to adequately imagine it. In absolute darkness we simply lay and trembled from sheer nerve tension". Even if one could ignore the noise, the lice crawling on their skin or rats running over their bodies prevented many men from sleeping while in the front lines. 

Steady shell fire meant constant casual ties, and men on the front lines often had to share their abode with the dead and dying, or the various body parts that remained after a shell explosion. One  lieutenant recalled taking the time to bury an assortment of hands, arms, and legs to clear his trench at Chateau-Thierry of human debris. Mustard gas attacks that blinded and blistered their victims only compounded the physical and psychological misery of a stint in the trenches. "Those that weren't scared, weren't there," Medal of Honor recipient Private Clayton Slack later commented about the experience of trench warfare.

A Volunteer Corpsman Aids a Distressed Soldier

Trying to make sense of their precarious situation, many soldiers developed superstitions or rituals that they felt offered protection at the front. Soldiers often contended that fate had targeted a specific shell expressly for them, a shell with "their name or number on it." One night, Bernard Eubanks recalled in his memoirs, "I had a strange dream or nightmare really. My company number was 84. During an intense bombardment I saw a huge missile coming my way with my number, 84, on it... but it passed over and never touched me." His temperament changed dramatically after this dream, because it "seemed to give me a sense of immunity that stayed with me for quite a while. I lost my jittery feeling." Just as Eubanks's positive vision gave him comfort, others believed that poorly chosen thoughts or conversations jinxed them. Corporal Ernie Hilton recalled the time he and his buddies overcame their reluctance to discuss the future, a subject they usually considered taboo, and had a long conversation about what they planned to do after the war. The next day, 34 of the 40 men in the trench were wounded or killed during a shell attack. "From then on I never spoke of the future," Hilton said.  Others turned to more traditional sources for resolve. "My prayer book gave me courage and comfort when under fire," Sergeant Stephen Morray recalled.

In the trenches, American soldiers lived within a few hundred yards of their German opponents, yet rarely saw them. An array of rumors helped soldiers create tangible images of their unseen enemy, who, according to these "soldier's tales," was a particularly clever and brutal foe. In a favorite ruse, according to soldier storytellers, German soldiers wore French uniforms or Red Cross brassards, pretended they were wounded, and lay on the battlefield to lure Allied soldiers into direct range of German machine guns. Another German trick began with a group of German machine gunners pretending to surrender by yelling "Comrade" in order to draw the troops who came to collect the prisoners into the open. Equally gory stories of the bloodthirsty revenge American soldiers exacted for such crimes countered these lavish tales of barbaric treachery. Soldiers repeatedly spoke of companies that captured snipers, gave them shovels, forced them to dig their own graves, then shot them.

Once they came into actual contact with dead Germans, many doughboys abandoned their taste for such macabre tales. Coming upon a German corpse in the Argonne Forest, one sergeant surprised himself by thinking that "these Germans didn't look like such bloody monsters. Quite an ordinary everyday crowd." A corporal undoubtedly spoke for others when he noted that "in the heat of battle men do not realize that the enemy is only a scared, frightened boy like we are, killing for self preservation and because he has to and hating it as bad as we do". 

When Americans left the trenches to actively pursue the Germans, fighting on the open battlefield also disappointed those seeking glory in combat. In the Meuse-Argonne campaign, Donald Kyler found himself going numb as the horrors multiplied. "I had seen mercy killings, both of our hopelessly wounded and those of the enemy. I had seen the murder of prisoners of war, singly and as many as several at one time. I had seen men rob the dead of money and valuables, and had seen men cut off the fingers of corpses to get rings," he explained.

Unidentified Shell Shock Patient

In the closing months of the war, a significant number of undertrained soldiers headed to the front lines. General John J. Pershing had expected these recently arrived replacement troops to receive additional training in France, but with Germany falling back, circumstances forced him to send these desperately needed men into battle. Division commanders complained bitterly about hem, feeling, as one inspector general put it, that sending untrained men into battle was "little short of murder. How we have escaped a catastrophe is a clear demonstration of the German demoralization." Although aware of their poor preparation, few untrained troops refused to fight. Instead, "when issued rifles they asked to be shown 'how to work this thing so that they could go up and get a "boche,"'" exclaimed the inspector general.

All battle accounts include some mention of soldiers collapsing from the strain of continuous artillery bombardments, the sight of bodies blown to bits, wearing tight gas masks for hours, or sheer exhaustion. After morning-to-night bombardments during the three straight weeks the 78th Division spent along the front lines in the Meuse-Argonne campaign, some soldiers "went into shock or coma from which they could not be aroused ... these shell-shock victims fell down as if they had been hit but actually they hadn't been touched," Corporal Paul Murphy later recalled, "they were completely helpless, mumbling and trembling at each new explosion"). Despite these soldiers' obvious suffering, the army did not consider shell-shock a legiti mate war injury. According to the chief surgeon of the Medical Department, "the so-called 'shell-shock' patients are no more entitled to a 'wound' chevron than are soldiers who are seized with an acute medical complaint due to exposure in battle, to the elements or to bad water or indigestible food".

Men diagnosed with shell-shock suffered from nightmares and panic attacks. Some could not sleep or speak. Private Duncan Kemerer of the 28th Division arrived at the base hospital in such poor condition that the sound of a spoon dropping sent him frantically searching for cover under his bed. After resting and eating well for a few days, however, Kemerer returned to his unit. Most soldiers who suffered from shell shock, battle exhaustion, or gas hysteria (a malady in which soldiers described physical symptoms associated with gas but had no actual injuries) voluntarily returned to thefront after a few days rest in a field hospital. If rest and food were not enough to convince men to take this step once the tremors had stopped and speech and memory returned, field psychiatrists emphasized to each man that their comrades needed them and that the glory of victory would be lost to them forever if they failed to return to the front.

Regardless of the Human Toll, the Army Marched On

Men usually responded to these appeals to their honor, masculinity, duty, and ambition. Whether these soldiers were cured is another question. Three out of every five beds in government hospitals were filled in the interwar period with veterans suffering from shell-shock.  Anecdotal evidence also underscores that many veterans had difficulty forgetting the wartime horrors they had witnessed. Three years after returning home, for instance, Walter Zukowski was not alone in noting that he was still fighting the war in his dreams. Many other veterans described themselves as nervous, jumpy, and unstable for years afterwards. 

Sources: "Americans as Warriors: "Doughboys" in Battle during the First World War", Jennifer D. Keene, Magazine of History, Oct. 2002, Full Article; "Brotherhood of the Damned", VFM Magazine, Sept. 1997, Full Article

"A Natural History of the Dead"—Hemingway's Surreal World War One Short Story

An Italian Army Dressing Station

In 1932 Ernest Hemingway, as an extra-feature to his bullfighting treatise Death in the Afternoon, included "A Natural History of the Dead," his  oddest reflection on his service in Italy during the Great War. Posing as a detached but cynical naturalist, he patches together his observations on the death throes and decay of various animal species and humans,  the nature of the fighting in the Dolomite Alps, and his fond memories a pleasant drive in the countryside around Milan picking up human remains left after a munitions plant explosion. The concluding, and longest, segment, describes the action at a dressing station where a fatally wounded—but still conscious soldier—has been prematurely placed among the dead and is causing a disturbance.

Anyway, it's well worth a read HERE

Or a listen HERE.

The Great War Poets of Westminster Abbey

Recently in an article on Siegfried Sassoon, we mentioned he had been included on the "Poets of the First World War Memorial" at Westminster Abbey.  I thought it would be of interest to our readers to present an article on the memorial and the list of 16 poets honored. MH

Click on Image to Enlarge

The Memorial and Dedication

The idea for this memorial came from the Dean of Westminster, Edward Carpenter, who initially thought that five or seven poets could be chosen to represent all the poets of the Great War. He consulted with eminent historians and authors to ask for their suggestions. From those suggestions, a final list of 16 representative poets was drawn up and funding was obtained.

A floor stone it is located today at the South Transept of the Abbey, Poets' Corner.  The stone is of dark green Westmoreland slate, cut by Harry Meadows. The inscription in red lettering around the names reads:

My subject is War, and the pity of War. 

The Poetry is in the pity

The date "1914+1918" appears at the base.

On 11 November 1985,  Ted Hughes, the Poet Laureate, unveiled the memorial, followed by the oration for the dedication service, given by Professor Michael Howard, Regius Professor of Modern History and Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. The readings from the honored poets were by Jill Balcon, Ted Hughes, Stephen Lushington, and Richard Pasco. 

Poets' Corner Setting

About the Poets

Sixteen poets of the Great War are remembered on this memorial. None of the poets are actually buried in the Abbey. Listed here are their names and their works chosen for reading at the dedication.

Richard Aldington (1892–1962) who served in the trenches and achieved success with his novel Death of a Hero based on his war experiences.

*** "On the march"

Laurence Binyon (1869–1943) whose words "They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old…," from his war poem "For the Fallen," are heard each year on Remembrance Sunday. He was buried at Aldworth in Berkshire.

*** "They went with songs to the battle"

Edmund Blunden (1896–1974) who fought at Ypres and the Somme and later became Professor of Poetry at Oxford and wrote poems on rural life as well as the war. He is buried at Long Melford in Suffolk.

Rupert Brooke (1887–1915) "The handsomest young man in England" died en route to the Dardanelles and is buried on the Greek island of Skyros. His War Sonnets included "The Soldier" with the famous lines "If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England."

*** "The Soldier" and "The Dead"

Wilfrid Gibson (1878–1962) of Northumberland, whose poetry also dealt with rural themes.

*** "A Lament"

Robert Graves (1895–1985) was badly wounded on the Somme but was the only one of the poets still living at the time of the unveiling. He was Professor of Poetry at Oxford, and his novels include I, Claudius.

*** "Two Fusiliers"

Julian Grenfell (1888–1915) whose celebrated poem "Into Battle" appeared in the same year that he was killed at Ypres.

*** "Into Battle"

Ivor Gurney (1890–1937) was gassed during the war and never fully recovered, being taken into care for the last years of his life. He also composed many songs.

*** "To the poet before battle"

David Jones (1895–1974) had a Welsh father but was born in Kent and served throughout the Great War. His epic work was In Parenthesis on the subject of war.

Robert Nichols (1893–1944) had early success with his poem "Invocation" in 1915, but he later turned to writing plays.

*** "By the wood"

Wilfred Owen (1893–1918), from whose Collected Poems the quote on the stone is taken, won the Military Cross and was killed just a week before the Armistice.

*** "Anthem for Doomed Youth" and "Futility"

Sir Herbert Read (1893–1968) had a distinguished war record and was poet, critic, and writer on fine art, and was knighted in 1953.

*** "The Refugees"

Isaac Rosenberg (1890–1918) was killed in action. The publication in 1937 of his Collected Works confirmed his importance as a writer of realistic war poetry.

*** "Break of Day in the Trenches"

Siegfried Sassoon (1886–1967) won the Military Cross and was invalided out. His volume of bleak anti-war poems, Counter Attack, was published in 1918, but his reputation became established in the following decade. He was buried at Mells in Somerset.

*** "The Hero" and "Reconciliation"

Charles Sorley (1895–1915) was killed at the battle of Loos aged only 20 so left comparatively few complete poems but was well regarded by his contemporary poets.

***  "All the Hills and Vales Along"

Edward Thomas (1878–1917) was encouraged to write by the American poet Robert Frost. He was killed at Arras, and his work is now highly regarded. He is the source of the title of this blog.

*** "Lights Out" and "In Memoriam-Easter 1915"

Source: Westminster Abbey Website

Photo's of Serbia's 1915 Retreat: The Albanian Golgotha

I've previously presented  a major article on the Great Retreat of the Serbian Army in 1915, and on its subsequent return to action on the Salonika Front and its critical contribution to the Allied victory HERE.

All Images Here Can Be Enlarged. Originals=1000px, Display=580px

Recently, I discovered the Serbian Ministry of Defence have presented a massive 56-part photo album of their nation's efforts during the First World War.  Here's a selection (6 of 18 images) from the album section on the 1915 Great Retreat, which they call "The Albanian Golgotha."  The 155-mile retreat  involved approximately 400,000 soldiers and civilians, with roughly half perishing from cold, starvation, and disease during the winter trek through Albanian mountains. Only about 120,000–150,000 soldiers and 60,000 civilians survived to be evacuated by Allied ships to the Greek island of Corfu. 

A link is provided below for viewing the entire collection.

Visit the entire collection HERE.