The Supreme Failure of Conrad von Hötzendorf

General Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, 
Austrian Chief of Staff

In all my reading during the centennial commemoration of the war, one major actor, who is featured prominently in the 1914-focused works, seems to have dropped off the radars of historians dealing with the fighting war and the final culmination of the disaster. I thought he deserves a little attention here in Roads, especially focusing on the end of the war and his legacy.

Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf was a unique star in the constellation of personalities involved in the origins and conduct of the First World War. Other countries had their prewar tacticians who advocated the offensive at all costs, prewar strategists who drafted plans for preemptive strikes against neighboring countries, generals who made grave errors in implementing war plans in the summer of 1914, and wartime commanders who persevered–for lack of a better strategy–as the First World War dragged on and casualties mounted. In Austria-Hungary, Conrad filled all of these roles. Among the men responsible for shaping the tactics, strategies, and war plans that led the old order of Europe to destruction in the bloodletting of 1914–1918, he had no equal. Austro-Hungarian soldiers who died during the Great War total 1,495,200, including 480,000 who died as prisoners of war.

The death knell for the empire was sounded with the failure in June 1918 of the last effort on the Piave River to drive Italy out of the war. The effort failed and the ethnic disintegration of the army snowballed, bringing with it the collapse of the army. Emperor Karl used Conrad as a scapegoat and again dismissed him. He spent the last four months of the war in retirement and afterward lived in relative seclusion with his beloved young wife, Gina. He never acknowledged his share of responsibility for the war, but the deaths of his sons haunted him for the rest of his life. He died in 1925 of complications from a gall bladder ailment, before finishing his multi-volume memoirs.

Reviewing the Troops in 1916

Despite Conrad's dismal wartime record, after his death, most Austrians hailed him as a great hero. The pro-Austrian Christian Social party claimed him as a great Austrian patriot, while the pro-Anschluss German Nationalist party emphasized his conclusion (however reluctant) that Austria's fate should lie in union with Germany. Meanwhile, the opposition Social Democrats condemned him as a war criminal. During and after the war he enjoyed a good reputation in Germany; Germans placed him on a par with their own Paul von Hindenburg and Erich Ludendorff. Eventually, the Nazis claimed Conrad as a Greater German hero, holding frequent ceremonies at his Vienna tomb during the Second World War. Because the defense of Conrad's reputation after 1918 became bound up with the defense of the honor of the old Habsburg army, he remains a controversial figure within Austria down to the present day.

While some Austrian military writers persist in excusing Conrad von Hötzendorf's faults and errors, for other historians his vocal promotion of preventive warfare before 1914 and costly command decisions during the First World War place him among the leading villains of the era. Yet his greatest transgression was not that he advocated offensive measures and aggressive solutions, but that these measures and solutions did not fit the situation of his country or the capabilities of its army. While all the other great powers of the 20th century survived defeats in battles, campaigns, or wars, Austria-Hungary enjoyed no margin for error, and Conrad's failure proved fatal. The pursuit of aggressive solutions to foreign policy problems only increased the empire's dependence on its German ally; Conrad acknowledged this dilemma as early as 1913, agonized over it early in the war, then in the autumn of 1916 conceded that Austria's future would be either as a satellite or component part of the German Reich. Thus, in helping push Austria-Hungary toward war before 1914, he set a course that would result, win or lose, with the end of Austria-Hungary as an empire.

Source: Over the Top, August 2012

Nature’s Tragic Role at the Alpine Front during World War I

 

Mauricio Nicolas Vergara, PhD

The Alpine front could be considered one of the emblematic cases of WWI in extreme environments. Indeed, many of the hundreds of thousands of people who were deployed at that front fought and wintered in some of the highest and most inhospitable mountains in Europe. Namely, many men found themselves deployed in altitudes more than 3,000 meters above sea level, where no human being had ever set foot. The Alpine front ran across peaks, glaciers, cliffs, and valleys of the southeastern Alps, in large part along the border between Italy and Austria-Hungary. In particular, from May 1915, when Italy declared war on Austria-Hungary, the front ran from the northwestern part of the southern Rhaetian Alps to the southern Julian Pre-Alps.  

From October 1917, after the Italian defeat in the Battle of Caporetto, to November 1918, when the Armistice was signed, the front between these two countries was shortened. Thus, from the Venetian Prealps, it turned southern into the Venetian Plain. The main armies involved at the Alpine front were the Italian and the Austro-Hungarian armies. Troops of the German Empire, allied with AustriaHungary, and of the British Empire, France, the United States, the Czechoslovak Legion, and Romanian Legion, allied with Italy, also participated in certain moments at the front.  The experience undergone at the Alps by some of these forces proved unique and invaluable for future wars.

An especially relevant study that considered personal testimonies and memoirs to increase the understanding about the relationship between people and nature at this front is the one of Diego Leoni. In his work, La Guerra Verticale; the author obtained a comprehensive picture of the characteristics of the Alpine front by focusing on the multiple aspects of the relationship of men and armies—not just with the natural environment but also with the machinery and the animals used there. In particular, Leoni compiled a significant number of personal  testimonies and memoirs as well as other kinds of sources, such as songs, poems, and official records from archives. These sources included authors with different backgrounds that conducted different activities during the war, such as soldiers, officers, nurses, doctors, workers, etc., for both the Italian and the Austro-Hungarian armies. In this way, Leoni was able to explore the various aspects  and moments of the Alpine front that he discussed from many points of view. In turn, this led him to find a more complex and detailed understanding of the front than other authors. 

Perhaps one of the biggest merits of Leoni’s book is that it tells, probably for the first time in such a well-documented way, that for people at the Alpine front the struggle to survive natural hazards and poor health and living conditions was often on par with surviving the enemy’s weapons. From this perspective, Leoni’s book represents probably the most advanced knowledge of the role of nature at the Alpine front.

Some of the casualties directly determined by mountain environments that are named in literature are casualties due to avalanches, landslides and lightning, those crushed inside huts under the weight of snow, those fallen along the sides of the mountains and into the precipices, and those who suffered from frostbite and hypothermia.  Many also were lost and resulted in missing or dead when moving through forests, fog, storms, nighttime, or whiteouts. Around Mte. Pasubio, hundreds of carriers were lost in the fog and went missing. Poor health and living conditions determined by alpine nature also led to casualties due to natural hazards. For example, frostbite was determined by low temperatures, the natural hazard, but also by poor health and living conditions.  These were at least in part due to alpine nature, such as the nutritional and physical state of the individual, inability to move freely, and the humidity of clothes, mainly footwear.

Another direct impact of natural hazards that is important to consider are psychological damages. In all the fronts of war, these were largely related to military causes and to the health and living conditions of the soldiers.  however, at the Alpine front, nature also seemingly represented a major factor of their origin. In literature, there is neither any historical medical report nor specific study that considers this impact of mountain nature. Still there are several sources, for example those cited by Leoni, which mentioned the relevance of nature for the determination of actual mental illnesses and of mental states that could lead to mental illnesses. In Alpenkrieg, Fritz Weber mentioned the occurrence of depression and considered that some mental states originated by the environmental context at the front were “very similar to a mental illness.” More recently, Alessandro Massignani also considered the presence of depression among those living at the Alpine front due to environmental conditions and Leoni also mentioned the presence of “melancholic depression.”

Nature contributed in many ways to the poor health and living conditions present at the Alpine front. One can assume that in general this effect was more adverse on the positions along the sides of the mountains and on their peaks, where the environment was more hostile, rather than in the valleys. The impact of nature on the health and living conditions included:

• Temperature, humidity, wind, slope direction, clouds, and vegetation, which contributed to excess cold and heat;

• The limitations of resources, which contributed to many deprivations. In particular, the insufficient amount of water springs represented a serious problem for drinking, hygienic practices, cooking, and performing some works in many parts of the front.  In addition to its limited presence, many of the water sources became polluted during the war, due to the putrefaction of dead bodies and the presence of human waste and of toxic chemical substances that resulted from explosions.

Particularly during the summer, when most of the snow had melted, the lack of water was considered a main cause of casualties in some cases. According to Heinz von Lichem, there were deaths from dehydration in Monte Zugna and in the Pasubio Massif;

 

• Rugged topography, which limited the potential space for building. This contributed to overcrowded camps and barracks;

• Avalanches and other natural phenomena, which produced cold or fear of an eventual imminent accident, contributing to sleep deprivation;

• Taxing physical and mental activities. Moving required significant exertion due to, for example, slopes, snow, wind, and the fact that people had to carry heavy weight because, mainly in high and rugged places, a large part of the transport of materials for living and fighting had to be done by them.  Digging trenches, caves, and tunnels in rock and ice, shoveling snow continuously during the cold season, restoring weapons, telephone and telegraph lines, cableways, and other infrastructure frequently destroyed by weather and avalanches were some of the many other ways through which alpine nature required huge exertions;

• Moods, feelings, and mental states were affected negatively due to the alpine climate. Concerning this impact of the environment, Weber referred to restlessness, agitation, desperation, oppression, anxiety, upheaval of the nervous system, and apathy among the persons at the front.  In particular, topography and weather contributed to periods of social isolation, precluding contacts with different or larger groups of persons and with civil society and relatives. This happened, for example, when the movement between different positions was impossible or when letters and news did not reach certain sectors of the front. These living conditions highly affected the troops sense of sadness, loneliness, and melancholy. Similar outcomes also created long periods of inactivity and restriction of movements caused by inclement weather. Moreover, the frequent natural hazards represented a continuous threat that “upset the nervous system” and increased the sense of precariousness and uncertainty. These conditions particularly affected those who were not used to mountain weather.

As for the health and living conditions, the efficiency of the logistic system was also affected by both human and natural factors. The human ones regarded the intrinsic malfunction of the armies and states and the factual or potential offenses of the enemy. 

Natural elements and processes represented difficulties such as:

• Slope, vegetation, kind of surface of the ground, presence of ice on the ground, hydrography, and weather created difficulties moving.  Indeed, it was reported that some positions reached 25 days of total isolation and some others more than a month. The impact of nature on transport occurred at almost every step of the supply chain in the Alps, from the snow that stopped the trains circulating along the valleys to the avalanches that engulfed the carriers and struck cableways supplying the higher positions. Weber reported on streets and paths that were impassable for seven months;

• Rugged topography, landslides, avalanches, and hydrography, which caused difficulties and lack of potential space for construction. This contributed to a shortage of adequate roads, paths, and storehouses. The difficulty constructing roads was represented, for example, by the need of the armies to build bridges over streams or dig tunnels inside mountains but also by the low temperatures and avalanches that workers had to suffer;

• Limited resources and hostile weather, which contributed to a high demand and strong dependency of the armies on the supplies coming from the plains. This led often to an overload of the logistics system. 

Despite the still-limited knowledge about the casualties due to natural hazards, the Alpine front represents a historical case of how the consequences of waging war in inhospitable environments go beyond the difficulties concerning fighting and how nature can cause great damage to armies.

Excerpted from: "Nature’s Tragic Role at the Alpine Front during World War I – The Consequences",  Journal of Advanced Military Studies vol. 13, no. 1, Spring 2022

The Kaiser's Badge for the Wounded

By 1918 there were so many wounded men still  in the ranks and disabled back in Germany—by the end of the war there were an estimated 4.2 million—that the army decided that a decoration was needed for the troops' uniforms to recognize and honor their sacrifice.  Approved by the Kaiser on 3 March 1918, the metal alloy Imperial Wound Badge displayed a German helmet with crossed swords surrounded by a wreath. They were each 1.5 x 1.75 inches and  came in three versions: (Note: I cannot find a source for the actual number of awards during WWI.)

• Black (3rd class, representing Iron), for those wounded once or twice by hostile action (including air raids).

• Silver (2nd class) for being wounded three or four times.

• Gold (1st class, which could be awarded posthumously) for being wounded five or more times.

Ernst Jünger, Wounded
14 Times During WWI,
Displaying the Wound Badge
(Presumably 1st Class)

The "progression" could be waived in the event of loss of a limb or eyesight; when such a severe wound occurred, the silver badge was awarded. Badges were made of pressed steel, brass and zinc. All versions of the Wound Badge were worn on the lower left breast of the uniform or tunic.

The badges, of course, made a comeback for the Second World War, with a swastika added to the helmet. An estimated 5 million were awarded. Civilians wounded in Allied bomb raids were also eligible for the badge. There was even a special version  awarded to survivors of the 20 July 1944 unsuccessful attempt to assassinate Hitler. The Führer, himself, did not accept one since he had received a Wound Badge for his First World War wounds.

Sources: For Führer and Fatherland: Military Awards of the Third Reich; Wikipedia; the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.

Giving Satan Pause: "To the Devil on His Appalling Decadence"

 

F.W. Harvey 

 

Satan, old friend and enemy of man;

Lord of the shadows and sins whereby

We wretches glimpse the sun in Virtue's sky

Guessing at last the wideness of His plan

Who fashioned kid and tiger, slayer and slain,

The paradox of evil, and the pain

Which threshes joy as with a winnowing fan:

Satan, of your old custom `twas at least

To throw an apple to the soul you caught

Robbing your orchard. You, before you wrought

Damnation due and marked it with the beast,

Before its eyes were e'en disposed to dangle

Fruitage delicious. And you would not mangle

Nor maul the body of the dear deceased.

But you were called familiarly "Old Nick" — 

The Devil, yet a gentleman you know!

Relentless — true, yet courteous to a foe.

Man's soul your traffic was. You would not kick

His bloody entrails flying in the air.

Oh, "Krieg ist Krieg," we know, and "C'est la guerre!"

But Satan, don't you feel a trifle sick?

Frederick William Harvey, DCM (26 March 1888–13 February 1957), often known as Will Harvey, was an English poet, broadcaster, and solicitor. His poetry became widely popular during and after World War I. He was decorated for his service as an enlisted man with the Gloucestershire Regiment in 1915. After a return to England for officer training and commissioning, he was redeployed to France. He was soon captured in a German trench while on a reconnaissance mission and became a prisoner of war for the remainder of the war. It was as a prisoner that Harvey wrote a series of poems, of which this is the most famous, and remarkably managed to get them published in his home country before war's end. The work is titled Gloucestershire Friends: Poems from a German Prison Camp and can be read online HERE. 

Zeppelin Nights: London in the First World War

 

By Jerry White

The Bodley Head, 2014

Reviewed by Peter Grant

This review is an abridgement of  the article originally presented on the Western Front Association website.

The title of the book comes from a fantasy novel written during the war by Violet Hunt and Ford Maddox Ford and the fear and reality of air raids features prominently. It seems extraordinary to us that until mid-1917 the government refused to allow any warning of air raids to be given as they thought they would cause unnecessary panic. The government's main advisor on this was Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Edward Henry, one of the least distinguished people to have fulfilled this role and whose ineptitude prompted his own force to strike in 1918 leading to his own resignation. The final death toll in air raids was 668 a figure that paled into insignificance compared with the 30,000 in World War Two but also with the autumn of 1918 when more than 1,000 Londoners a week were succumbing to the 'Spanish Flu'.

White is exemplary in documenting the social, political and economic changes that four years of war brought to London and the book is peppered with fascinating titbits such as the fact that cinema attendances tripled during the war and that its manufacturing economy moved westwards. His conclusions are that the war was something of a watershed if not, in Arthur Marwick's phrase, a 'deluge'. It changed the lives of millions of Londoners: women who no longer saw domestic service as their only choice of work; paupers for whom a more enlightened poor-law authority rejected the workhouse and workers who joined trades unions and the Labour Party.

One of the most obvious changes was the influx of women into jobs previously the sole preserve of men. The South Metropolitan Gas Company employed 2,000 women with housewives reportedly very pleased with the result as the women were 'neater, quieter and quicker than the men.' Though many such jobs were relinquished with the coming of peace in others, office work in the City for example, these were long-term changes to a feminized work force.

Order HERE

White is unstinting in revealing the less savoury aspects of wartime nationalism such as the morally dubious aspects of DORA (the Defence of the Realm Act) and attacks on German families and businesses which sowed the seeds of racially motivated discontent that lasted through the 1930s to the 1970s and beyond.

The 22nd Battalion CEF (the “Van Doos”) Today's Royal 22e Régiment

By James Patton

The first commandant of Canada's new Francophone 22nd  battalion was Lieut. Col. Frédèric-Mondelet Gaudet (1867–1947), an ordinance officer known as “the Arsenalist,” who since 1913 had been in Hughes’s doghouse for his criticism of the Ross Rifle.

Gaudet served until 25 January 1916 when, due to ill health, he was replaced by Lieut. Col. Thomas-Louis Tremblay CB CMG DSO ED (1886–1951), an engineer, who held the post for most of the war, although from September 1916 until February 1917 he was invalided out for a spell (more about that later), and in 1918, post-Amiens,  he was elevated to brigade command. Both of these officers were rare Francophone graduates of the Royal Military College at Kingston, Ontario.  

Lieut. Col. Tremblay

After months of training in Canada and England, the 22nd battalion finally arrived in France on 15 September 1915, a part of the 5th Brigade.  In 1962–63, the Canadian Broadcasting Corp (CBC) conducted a series of interviews with veterans who were members of that brigade. They characterized the 22nd as rowdy and fearless. An officer of the 24th Battalion (Victoria Rifles), noted that the 22nd “weren’t as susceptible to discipline as we were.” Further to the point: “They scared the pants off the quartermaster in the Sandling Camp; I remember they chased him. There was some trouble over food. We went out there and here was the quartermaster running away and the whole gang after him.” 

The 22nd carried the reputation as “undisciplined” throughout the war. Nevertheless, another 5th brigade  veteran, from the 25th (Nova Scotia) Battalion told the CBC interviewers, “. . . these Frenchmen are damn good fighters.” The 25th had been on the flank of the 22nd at both Flers-Courcelette and Regina Trench during the Battle of the Somme. 

Ready for the Front

First blood was spilled in April 1916 at the St. Eloi Craters in Flanders. The eager and reckless 22nd attempted to hold on to an indefensible position in the  ghastly mess created by the mines. There were significant casualties and no territorial gains. After reinforcement, next stop for the 22nd was on the Somme, where they attacked at Flers-Courcelette in September 1916. Tremblay wrote in his diary (a translation) “This is our first significant attack; it must be a great success for the honor of all French-Canadians we represent in France."

They captured the village of Courcelette and held it for over two days despite repeated German counterattacks. There were hundreds of casualties, Tremblay was emotionally exhausted, and had to step down. His replacement, Maj. Arthur Édouard Dubuc DSO (1880–1944), was a heroic soldier but not a school-trained officer, and he wasn’t up to the job of command; the battalion suffered from serious disciplinary problems, especially absences and desertions. Brig. Gen. H.D.B. Ketchen (1872–1959), commander of the 6th Brigade, reported that “the crime of desertion . . . is very prevalent in the [22nd] Battalion.”

Upon his return, Tremblay cracked down with strict and rigid discipline. He actually opined that his men would not take him seriously until he had someone shot. Over the next ten months, 70 soldiers from the 22nd  were  court-martialed (48 for illegal absences) and yes, five men were shot at dawn.

Early Encampment in France

The two biggest battles for the 22nd were at Vimy Ridge and Passchendaele, both in 1917. Vimy was a great success for the battalion, with "light" casualties.  Passchendaele was horrific, with heavy casualties, but at the end the remnants of the intractable 22nd was holding onto the top of that ridge. 

In 1918 their finest hour came at Amiens. Recently backfilled once again, they pushed the Germans back 13 kilometers on the first day and six more on the second. There was hope and optimism, as the war of movement had resumed, and for the next three months, the battalion kept advancing. Along the way, they confronted the Germans at Arras and Cambrai, and took part in liberating several towns, including Valenciennes and finally Mons, in Belgium.

All told, the 22nd Bn. CEF earned 21 Battle Honours: Mount Sorrel, Somme 1916, Flers–Courcelette, Thiepval, Ancre Heights, Arras 1917, Vimy 1917, Arleux, Scarpe 1917,  Hill 70, Ypres 1917, Passchendaele, Somme 1918, Amiens, Arras 1918, Scarpe 1918, Hindenburg Line, Canal du Nord, Cambrai 1918, Pursuit to Mons, France, and Flanders 1915–18.

Two members of the 22nd were posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross (VC):

Corporal Joseph Kaeble – Neuville-Vitasse, France—8 June 1918

Lieutenant Jean Brillant – near Amiens, France—8/9 August 1918

Royal 22^e Régimental Memorial by André Gauthier 

During the war the 22nd  battalion had suffered 3,961 casualties,  including 1,074  deaths. They sailed back to Canada on 10 May 1919  and were formally disbanded ten days later. However, two of the lessons learned  by Canada from the Great War experience were (1) that they needed a bigger and more effective standing army, and (2) that the French-Canadians needed to be made a part of that army.

So an elite Francophone regiment, to be depoted in Québec City, was envisioned, which would  subsume the badges and the Battle Honours of the 22nd Battalion CEF.  It was seen by some as a sort of "bookend" to the elite (and originally all-British) Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry, which in the postwar period was also made regular, with the depot located in Alberta. On 1 April 1920 this new 22nd Regiment was activated, and in the Birthday Honours of 1921, the King bestowed the  appellation of Royal, in recognition of the regiment’s CEF heritage.

For its actions in the Second World War the 22nd regiment earned another 24 Battle Honours and then another for Korea in 1953. In 1956 the regiment amalgamated the militia unit Le Régiment de St. Hyacinthe as its 6th (Reserve) Battalion, thereby subsuming the heritage of that unit which included the honours for the Defence of Canada 1812–15 and the 1837 Fenian Raids. More recently,  the Afghanistan  honour was added to the regimental flag. The Royal 22e Régiment continues today; the French spelling is now official in both languages. 

Since inception, the badge of both the CEF battalion and the modern regiment has displayed the motto Je me souviens, which best translates to “I remember.” 

Modern Insignia

The man behind this motto was Eugène-Étienne Taché (1836–1912), architect of Québec’s Parliament Building, built between 1877 and 1886. Taché’s father, Sir Étienne-Paschal Taché (1795–1865), had been premier of the Province of Canada, as Québec was known in the early years (Ontario was called Upper Canada then). He had a widely varied record—a regional Patriote leader at the time of the 1837 rebellions but in 1867 called a "Father of the Confederation." Architect son Eugène-Étienne had to adorn the main entrance to the Parliament Building with the provincial coat of arms bestowed by Queen Victoria in 1868, but underneath it he added a motto, often attributed to his father, which is: Je me souviens.

Sources agree that this motto is a pledge to preserve Québec’s distinct heritage and language. 

Sources include The Canadian War Museum and the Government of Canada

French-Canadian Participation in the First World War

Cap Badge for the Francophone 22nd Battalion CEF

By James Patton

There are different estimates of the number of French-Canadians who volunteered to serve in the  Canadian Expeditionary Force (CEF) during the Great War. One widely accepted tally is around 15,000 volunteers, mostly  from the Montréal area, though Québec City, Western Québec and Eastern Ontario also provided significant numbers, too. It seems certain that some French-Canadians living in the U.S.A. returned to enlist and they would have been counted as American recruits, a part of a large  contingent that is officially recorded as 35,612, although alternative estimates run as high as 50,000.

How many were French-speaking (Francophones) is impossible to know since the attestation papers did not ask for that information. Though French-Canadians comprised nearly 30 percent of the nation’s population, they made up only about 4 percent of Canadian volunteers. Less than 5 percent of Québec’s males of military age were enrolled in infantry battalions, compared to about 15 percent in the rest of the country. To further confuse, about  half of the Québec recruits were English-speakers (Anglophones), and nearly half of  the Francophone volunteers came from provinces other than Québec. 

This Canadian recruitment poster in French calls for men to enlist in French-Canadian regiments, as “It’s time to act.”

It seems clear that many French-Canadians weren’t motivated to fight. The reasons are many and somewhat complex, but here is a list:  

• Francophones had a tradition of suspicion toward the British, and France had shown scant interest in their welfare after the 1760 treaty. Therefore, they felt little loyalty or obligation  to either "home country." 

• Recruiting campaigns consisted largely of flag-waving "King and Country" appeals, effective with Anglophones but likely not with Francophones. Many Anglophones were first or second generation in the country (one source says 48.5% of the CEF), while all of the Francophones were at least fifth generation. 

• Many French-Canadians, led by figures like Henri Bourassa (1868–1932), emphasized loyalty to Québec. They felt that their fidelity was to the land of their birth, and they should instead continue to concentrate on achieving independence for Québec . 

• Francphones had been alienated by government actions, e.g. the Canadian Department of Militia and Defence’s policy of strict unilingualism, and the Ontario Provincial government’s 1912  ban on French language in the schools. 

• Other influences included these: Religious—there was a theory that circulated that the war was a punishment of France for adopting "godless" secularism. Economic—the war brought welcomed prosperity to Québec, with many well-paying jobs available, especially in the war industries. Emigration- the French-Canadian diaspora to New England was still going at this time (about 900,000 left Québec between 1840 and 1930).

However, the  tipping point was conscription, imposed by Prime Minister Sir Robert Borden GCMG PC KC (1854–1937)  in August 1917, partly a result of public belief that the French-Canadians were "shirking" their duty. French Canada resisted; there  were widespread protests and even riots in Québec City, which led to martial law, enforced by 6,000 armed Anglophone conscripts.

As can be seen in the table that follows, there were 15 Francophone militia regiments in 1914 . Coincidentally, there were also, over the course of the war, 15 Francophone battalions in the CEF, out of a total of 260. Sir Sam Hughes  KCB PC VD (1853–1921), the Minister of Militia and Defence (until 9 November 1916), did not like Francophones, and didn’t allow any Francophone units in the First CEF contingent. Nearly 1,000 Francophones had volunteered in 1914, but they were assigned to Anglophone  battalions. 

Francophone Battalions of the CEF 1915–1919, Militia Recruitment Source and Present-Day Affiliation

Click on Table to Enlarge

Total for All Units: 8,868

For the Second CEF contingent, a wealthy Québecois named Arthur Migneault MD (1865–1937), a purveyor of highly popular iron pills, circumvented Hughes’s obstinancy by going straight to Borden and offering to pay CD$ 50,000 (equivalent to CD$1.4 million if paid today) to cover the cost of forming, manning and equipping  ONE exclusively Francophone battalion for the CEF. Borden had no grounds to refuse, and so the 22nd Battalion CEF came to be, commonly known outside of  Québec as the “Van Doos,” an Anglicized version of  vingt-deux. 

Although Dr. Migneault supported the recruitment of two more Francophone CEF  battalions, the 41st and 57th, neither of these was ever deemed combat ready, partly due to a lack of Francophone officers. As the table above shows, save for the 22nd all of the Francophone battalions were eventually used to backfill operational losses.

Although the total Francophone participation in the CEF is estimated to be about 35,000, it would be down to the new 22nd to carry the colors alone. You can learn how they did tomorrow.

Sources include The Canadian War Museum, the Government of Canada and Badges of the CEF, by Lenard Babin and John Snitzel.

Eyewitness: Ambushed on the Eastern Front by Aspirant Officer Oskar Kokoschka, 4th Dragoon Squadron

Artist-Soldier Oskar Kokoschka

19 August 1915

There was something stirring at the edge of the forest. Dismount! Lead horses! Our line was joined by volunteers, and we beat forward into the bushes as if we were going out to shoot pheasant.

The enemy was withdrawing deeper into the forest, firing only sporadically. So we had to mount again, which was always the worst part, for since conscription had been introduced the requisitioned horses were as gun-shy as the reservists who had been called up were wretched horsemen. After all, most of them were used to sitting only on an office chair. In the forest suddenly we were met by a hail of bullets so near and so thick that one seemed to see each bullet flitting past; it was like a startled swarm of wasps.

Charge! Now the great day had come, the day for which I too had been longing. I still had enough presence of mind to urge my mount forward and to one side, out of the throng of other horses that had now gone wild, as if chased by ghosts, the congestion being made worse by more coming up from the rear and galloping over the fallen men and beasts.

I wanted to settle this thing on my own and to look the enemy straight in the face. A hero’s death – fair enough! But I had no wish to be trampled to death like a worm. The Russians had lured us into a trap. I had actually set eyes on the Russian machine-gun before I felt a dull blow on my temple.

The sun and the moon were both shining at once and my head ached like mad. What on earth was I to do with this scent of flowers? Some flower – I couldn’t remember its name however I racked my brains. And all that yelling round me and the moaning of the wounded, which seemed to fill the whole forest – that must have been what brought me round. Good Lord, they must be in agony! Then I became absorbed by the fact that I couldn’t control the cavalry boot with the leg in it, which was moving about too far away, although it belonged to me. I recognised the boot by the spur: contrary to regulations, my spurs had no sharp rowels. Over on the grass there were two captains in Russian uniform dancing a ballet, running up and kissing each other on the cheeks like two young girls. That would have been against regulations in our army.

I had a tiny round hole in my head. My horse, lying on top of me, had lashed out one last time before dying, and that had brought me to my senses. I tried to say something, but my mouth was stiff with blood, which was beginning to congeal. The shadows all round me were growing huger and huger, and I wanted to ask how it was that the sun and moon were both shining at the same time. I wanted to point at the sky, but my arm wouldn’t move. Perhaps I lay there unconscious for several days.

A Knight Errant (Self Portrait)
1915

After  suffering a lung puncture and the head injury, Kokoschka was first reported dead, but he had been captured and was eventually freed and taken to hospital. He received the Silver Bravery Medal 1st Class for his conduct during the assault. He remained in the army for the remainder of the war but never returned to active duty.  His wartime experiences, particularly his severe physical injuries and the psychological trauma of the war, heavily influenced his art, including during a period of postwar hallucinations.

Source: Oskar Kokoschka, My Life 

La journée de Versailles — Der Tag von Versailles — The day of Versailles

28 June 1919

By Charles B. Burdick 

The Crowd Outside the Palace Grounds at Versailles

About 2:30 p.m. Georges Clemenceau entered the Hall of Mirrors and looked about him to see that all arrangements were in perfect order. He observed a group of wounded veterans at one side with their medals of valor pinned to their uniforms and, walking up to them, engaged them in a brief conversation. At 2:45 p.m. he moved up to the middle table and took his seat as the presiding officer. Observant spectators noted the singular fact that he sat almost directly under the ceiling decoration bearing the legend, "The king governs alone." The spot was as close as possible to the location of William I of Prussia when he had become the German Emperor in 1871.

Wilson and Lloyd George entered the room soon after Clemenceau, and the assemblage saluted them with discreet applause. At last the table was full, except for the German and Chinese delegations. Clemenceau glanced to the right and to the left; people had taken their seats but still conversed with their neighbors. He made a sign to the ushers who whispered, "Ssh! Ssh!" to the offenders. The talking ceased and only the sound of occasional coughing and the dry rustle of programs marred the silence. A sharp military order startled the audience as the Gardes Republicaine at the doorway flashed their sabers into their scabbards with a loud click. In the ensuing silence Clemenceau, his voice distant but penetrating, commanded, "Let the Germans enter." His direction was followed by a hush as the two German delegates, preceded by four Allied officers, entered by way of the Hall of Peace and moved to their seats. Dr. Mueller, a tall man with a scrubby little mustache, wearing black, with a short black tie over his white shirt front, appeared pale and nervous. Dr. Bell held himself calm and erect. The Germans bowed stiffly and sat down. The final moment had arrived at last. Wilson made the audible remark, "How I hate them."

At 3:15 p.m. Georges Clemenceau rose and announced, "The meeting is opened." He then spoke briefly in French: An agreement has been reached upon the conditions of the treaty of peace between the Allied and Associated Powers and the German Empire. The text has been verified; the president of the conference has certified in writing that the text about to be signed conformed to the text of the 200 copies which have been sent to the German delegates. The signatures about to be given constitute an irrevocable engagement to carry out loyally and faithfully in their entirety all the conditions that have been decided upon. I, therefore, have the honor of asking the German plenipotentiaries to affix their signatures to the treaty before me.

German Plenipotentiaries Hermann Mueller
and Johannes Bell Signing the Treaty

The Germans rose quickly from their seats when he had finished his remarks, knowing that they were the first to sign, but William Martin, director of protocol, motioned them to sit down. Mantoux, the official interpreter, began translating Clemenceau's words into German. In his first sentence, when he reached the words, "the German Empire," or, as Clemenceau had said in French, "l'empire allemande," he retranslated it as, "the German Republic." While this change reflected political realities, Clemenceau whispered, "Say 'German Reich,'" this being the term employed by the Germans.

Paul Dutasta, general secretary of the conference, then led the five Germans–two plenipotentiaries and three secretaries–to the treaty table where Mueller and Bell, two lonely men in simple black frock coats among the sea of colorful military and diplomatic uniforms, signed their names. Bell's pen did not work and one of Colonel Edward House's secretaries offered his personal pen for the German's use. Mueller appended his name in the cramped manner of a man trying to hide his involvement in a dubious action while Bell, using the loaned instrument, scrawled his nervous approval in huge letters.

The delegation from the United States followed the Germans. President Wilson rose, and as he began his walk to the historic table, followed in order by Secretary of State Robert Lansing, Colonel House, General Tasker Bliss, and Henry White, other delegates stretched out their hands in congratulation. He came forward with a broad smile and signed his name at the spot indicated by William Marten. Lloyd George, together with Arthur Balfour, Viscount Milner, and Andrew Bonar Law, followed the Americans. Then came the delegates from the British dominions, followed by the representatives of France, in order, Clemenceau, Stephen Pichon, Louis Klotz, André Tardieu, and Jules Cambon; the president of the council signed his name without seating himself.

The general tension that had prevailed before the Germans had signed was now gone. There was a general relaxation; conversation hummed again in an undertone. The remaining delegations, headed by those of Italy, Japan, and Belgium, stood up one by one and passed onward to the queue waiting by the signing table. Meanwhile, adventuresome onlookers congregated around the main table getting autographs. Everything went quickly. The efficient officials of the Quai d'Orsay stood attentively in position indicating places to sign, enforcing procedures, blotting with neat little pads.

French 75s Preparing to Fire the Celebratory Barrage

Suddenly, as Ignace Jan Paderewski, the Polish plenipotentiary, was signing his name, from outside came the crash of guns thundering a salute, announcing to Paris that the Germans had signed the peace treaty. Through the few open windows came the sound of distant crowds cheering hoarsely.

At 3:50 p.m. the signing process was complete. The protocol officials renewed their "Ssh! Ssh!" injunction, cutting short the loud, invasive chatter. There was a final hush. Clemenceau announced, "Gentlemen, all of the signatures have been given. The signing of the peace conditions between the Allied and Associated powers and the German Reich is an accomplished fact. The conference is over. "

Source: Over the Top, August 2009

The Child's ABC of the War

Images Can Be Enlarged by Clicking on Them.

Here's a selection of pages from a 1915 British publication that bizarrely attempted to "sell"  the delights and nicer side of war to kids, while making sure they understood who the real baddies were. The full work can be found online, courtesy of Florida State University, HERE.  It's worth a look. By the way, Ruskin House in London has been ground zero for Britain's progressive movement for a century. 

Thanks to regular contributor Bryan Alexander for bringing this gem to our attention. MH

Surprise! In 1912 Kaiser Wilhelm II Found Himself Saddled with a Socialist Reichstag

Kaiser Wilhelm II with Chancellor Bismarck Present Opens a Session of the Reichstag

By Dennis Cross

In 1912 Kaiser Wilhelm II celebrated his 24th year as emperor of Germany. A grandson of Queen Victoria, he ascended the throne during her reign, and for the next 13 years ruled Germany. Among European sovereigns, only Franz Joseph, the octogenarian emperor of Austria-Hungary, could claim longer tenure. In 1912 Wilhelm understandably regarded himself, if not as first among equals, at least as a force to be reckoned with. He also regarded himself, again not without reason, as the autocrat of the German Empire.

The Reichstag was the popularly elected legislative body of the German empire, but it had little power. The Kaiser had sole authority over foreign affairs, and even on domestic matters the Reichstag could vote only on proposals put forward by the government. Legislation had to be approved by the upper house of the legislature, the Bundesrat, which represented the princes of the German states and was dominated by Prussia. The chancellor and all the ministers of the government were named by the Kaiser, carried out the Kaiser's policies, and could not be removed by the legislature. Despite its institutional weaknesses, however, the Reichstag was in a position to cause difficulties for the government when controlled by opponents of government policies.

Reichstag elections were held on 12 January 1912. They resulted in a stunning victory for the Social Democratic Party, returning 110 SDP members, more than twice the number of the second-place Centre Party, which had previously held the most seats. The election results made possible a coalition of left-to-center parties with the potential to obstruct government policies and make life difficult for Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann-Hollweg. 

On 7 February 1912, before British emissary Richard Haldane, the Kaiser spoke at the Reichstag announcing that a bill augmenting naval and army strength would be introduced later in the legislative session.  The socialist dominated Reichstag, nonetheless, subsequently approved bills expanding the standing German army from 515,000 to 544,000, and construction of three more dreadnoughts and two light cruisers. When war broke out in 1914,  the SPD parliamentary group unanimously voted to approve war credits on 4 August 1914. Yet, as the war dragged on the SPD support for the war diminished and the causcus fragmented. In 1917, its strong anti-war faction was expelled from the party, and they formed the Independent Social Democratic Party of Germany (USPD), which advocated an immediate end to the war.

Source:  Originally presented in the Fall 2012 Journal of the World War One Historical Association

From the Somme to the Armistice: The Memoirs of Captain Stormont Gibbs, M.C.

Captain Charles Stormont Gibbs, MC,
4th Suffolks

There's a sub-genre of World War One literature that I swore off about 20 years ago, when I concluded I had reached my lifetime quota for such works. It's the vast collection of the accounts of former British Army junior officers who had attended public schools (prep schools in American lingo). Almost all of them are clear, coherent, with high-level vocabularies. Most, however, tell the stories of the same battles, the same sort of disillusionment. My problem with these memoirs is not their quality, accuracy, or all those tragic deaths, but their same template.

Nonetheless,  I am always looking for fresh works on the Great War, fiction as well as non-fiction,  and Charles Stormont Gibbs work, From the Somme to the Armistice, seems to have been rediscovered and  gaining  some 21st-century popularity.  I couldn't bring myself to read it, but I discovered some excellent quotes and excerpts that, collectively I think, capture the spirit of the work, and I offer them below for our readers' consideration. Someday, I might just buy a copy for myself.

Charles Cobden Stormont Gibbs (1897–1969) was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant out of Radley College's OTC program in November 1916. He arrived in France while the Battle of the Somme was already underway and soon joined the festivities. Serving to the end of the war, he earned the Military Cross for "organising defensive measures to meet enemy counter-attacks under heavy bombardment."A fter the war, he became an educator, most notably running Gayhurst preparatory school in Gayhurst, near Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire.

At the Somme

1.  This string of wounded men took the stuffing out of me a bit. Like most people I had not fully realised that the horror of war is wounds, not death. I had thought of people being killed perhaps, if they weren’t lucky enough to get a nice little wound at first.

2. The next shock of the war came to me – the next experience – the death of one’s friends. It didn’t seem possible. I jumped out of the trench and ran forward into no man’s land “Come back sir, you can’t do any good”, from an old man in the trench behind. I came back. Wounded they might be but there they lie until they died, for no living man could go to their help – certainly not the only officer but two left in the battalion – just the colonel, Tack, Rush and I – all the rest had gone, even the doctor. I got back in the trench and cried until I couldn’t see.

3. I knew an orderly or runner wouldn't  have much chance of finding his way so I decided to go myself. I memorised the details of the map, took a direction off the star and after twenty minutes or stumbling along stepped straight into the Company HQ - Triumph! 

4. A struggling line of men,  running in a sort of staggering run. Some running, some dropping. The first few got level with me and as I looked at them I saw in their eyes that wild look of men mad with fear.”

5.  We got wedged in a traffic jam for some minutes and it seemed touch and go whether they [his men] could be kept in a frame of mind to follow on. Especially was this so when the result of the jam became evident in the shape of strings of wounded coming down from further forward. Amongst these was young Suttle with all the fingers of one hand hanging by shreds of skin. He held up his hand as he passed me with a grimace but he knew his wound had saved his life.

6. In any sort of hand fighting there are the savage emotions that motivate the shot or thrust. The great horror of war is this prostitution of civilized man. He has to fight for his country and to do so has in actual practice to be brutalized for his country; he has to learn to hate with the primitive blood lust of the savage if he is to push a bayonet into another human being (who probably no more wants to fight than he does). Need he hate? In the case of the average man he must as the counter-balance to fear. 

Then Came Passchendaele

7.  I returned to France from leave about 19th September [1917].  I reached the transport lines in front of Ypres in the evening and went up with  the rations after dark. . . We had to follow the line of the Menin Road keeping off the road some fifty yards at one side, for the road was continually under shellfire. . . I remember falling over a dead man and the revolting sensation one had when this happened in the dark.

8.  The great idea seemed to be to take the Passchendaele ridge on which hundreds of lives had been squandered. Canadians had tried, Australians had tried, but the Germans still defended the ridge and it was said that on the position of the line from which we were to start there was the greatest concentration of enemy artillery yet known.

9.  When dawn came things did not pan out as they should have done if the generals had their way. First no one was ready except ourselves.  The Middlesex had lost their way and arrived an hour late, the other battalion quie lost  and never did arrive at all.

10.  Our barrage opened as planned and immediately the enemy put down a counter barrage of such intensity that its effect was quite unimaginable. . . We had practically no shelter so that the men lay flat at first, for it had been decided not to advance until the battalions on our flanks were ready.  To prevent chaos and panic and simply losing the lot, the CO and I had to walk backwards and forwards along the top of the  trench–at least that is what the "Old Man" did and I had to be with him. . . Well, we both had charmed lives.  The CO's revolver took one piece of shell that would have killed him and I got a clod in the back that knocked me down. . . 

Order HERE