The 332nd U.S. Infantry's Military and Political Role in Italy

 

The 332nd Infantry Is Welcomed to Italy

By Cmdr. Alexander Buschor, U.S. Navy

Though American money had been flowing into Italy’s war campaign for some time, since the Italian military’s disastrous defeat at the Battle of Caporetto, Rome had requested more than just U.S. dollars. Fresh troops and materials were needed to reroute the Austro-Hungarians. U.S. brass and policymakers were reluctant to do so, but the 332nd Infantry Regiment was eventually committed to the Italian front. 

It’s worth noting that this is one of the first times an American fighting force was sent to a theater of war 

(a) outside the scope of primary U.S. military engagement (in this case, the Western Front), 

(b) fought under foreign leadership (the 332nd took orders from Italian generals), and 

(c) were committed by diplomatic means between two separate governments as opposed to being a purely Washington-made decision

In Gen. John J. Pershing’s diary, he describes a lunch with the ambassador to Italy, Nelson Page, highlighting the political vice military nature of committing American troops to Italy: “The Ambassador seemed disappointed to find me strongly opposed to the use of our troops anywhere except on the Western Front and as components of our own army.”

Men of the 332nd Deployed Along the Piave River

Northern Italy already had its fair share of Americans aiding the conflict. Red Cross volunteers and ambulance drivers, so well-known from Ernest Hemingway’s dramatization in A Farewell to Arms, had been there for years. The arrival of combat troops, however, was another affair. After departing their home station of Camp Sherman in Chillicothe, Ohio, in late 1917, the 332nd crossed the Atlantic aboard the RMS Aquitania, landed in England, and eventually trained across western Europe until it finally reached Italian soil in 1918. Upon arriving in Milan, the troops were greeted by throngs: “The crowd, now uncontrollable, almost bore the men from their feet in a mad frenzy to honor these first combatant American troops in Italy. The exultant cries continued, ‘Viva l’America! Viva l’America!’ A somewhat humorous note on ethnic and cultural differences is added to this passage in the unit’s enlisted personnel’s Company Log: “The stiff wall of reserve of the Anglo-Saxon could no longer resist the mighty flood of human emotion that surged against it and in that sublime moment, seizing the inspiration of the hour, the men in khaki spoke for America, and cried back, ‘Viva l’Italia! Viva l’Italia!’

It’s important to emphasize that the 332nd was largely detailed to this corner of the war as a publicity stunt, something both Washington and Rome sought to publicize. In lieu of fighting, the American soldiers spent a substantial amount of time in rear billeting, marching around areas of the Italian peninsula not in a combat zone, performing quasi-humanitarian duties, and training. The enlisted man’s log states, throughout the summer of 1918, “The regiment continued intensive training through the late summer; each man, already overtrained, began hoping that the impending day would soon arrive when the big drive in Italy would begin. At the close of the day’s heavy, and by this time, monotonous drill, the men spent their evenings on the streets and in the small shops of Valeggio or bathed in the clear, swift waters of the Mincio. The camp life, too, was diversified by Sunday trips to Lago di Garda and Verona.

However, as the Central Powers began to crumble and the Italian army again gained the initiative, the 332nd found itself on the move, seeing action at the Battle of Vittorio Veneto and the Tagliamento River. Even as Austria-Hungary was penning the armistice, Italian forces with their American helpers took the initiative and attacked wherever they could, mostly against surrendering Austro-Hungarian army units, to take what they saw as rightfully theirs and had been attempting to do so since 1915. As the war ended, word often reached the front lines piecemeal, and depending on what side a soldier was on may determine what level of fighting would occur. At the Tagliamento River, the 332nd found itself in a precarious situation, a prelude to the geopolitical debacle it would later find itself in.  According to the company log:

The American forces were now in a perilous position. They lay deployed on the barren river within easy range of the enemy who held a wholly unobstructed view of the entire maneuver, and who might easily have killed or captured every man in the three platoons by a concentrated fire from the well-fortified parapet now only a few hundred yards away. Events took a strange turn.

Waving a white flag, an Austrian major leaped from the enemy dike and quickly advanced toward the American lines. He was followed by more officers. Coming forward under a flag of truce, they offered to converse with the Americans and Capt. Maroni.

In the parley that followed the Austrians told that on the preceding night they had received orders declaring that an armistice would take effect at midnight—the 2nd— that they should maintain their present position at all hazards and hold the right bank of the Tagliamento while the Allied soldiers would not advance beyond the left—the west. They presented a telegram as evidence that these orders were actually issued, adding at the same time that they—the Austrians— would use force if the Americans advanced further. To strengthen their claims they asserted they would not have destroyed the bridge if the telegram concerning the armistice had come one hour earlier.  [Note:  The 332nd would eventually force the river crossing on the morning of 4 November and advance as to Codroipo and Villaorba and halted there upon hearing an armistice between Italy and Austria-Hungary had been signed.]

Lion of St. Mark and Army of Occupation Shoulder Patches for the 332nd Infantry

[Eventually armistices were executed on all the fronts and preparations for a peace conference were underway.] The 332nd, though, was not about to pack up and head home to America. In the American Battlefield Monuments Commission's summary, there exists a very brief post-conflict history of the 332nd’s role abroad:

After this Armistice the American troops formed part of the Allied forces stationed in Austria and along the Dalmatian coast. The 1st and 3d Battalions were at Carmons near Gorizia, Austria. Later in November the lst Battalion was ordered to go to Treviso and the 3d Battalion to Fiume, Austria. The 2d Battalion was stationed at Cattaro, Dalmatia, and a detachment from it was sent to Cetinje, Montenegro. In March 1919 the regiment was assembled in Genoa and on April 3 its last elements embarked from that seaport for the United States.

This official history is fascinating, for it provides no detail as to why a single American regiment was dispersed along a coastline stretching from Venice to Montenegro or why they were operating in several sectors outside of the American occupation zone delineated by the armistice and the Committee of Admirals. The unit’s enlisted personnel’s Company Log does no better of the unit’s entire foray into the Eastern Adriatic; only two sentences are provided: “The second battalion, which had gone to Cattaro, Dalmatia, on November 12, entered the harbor after a trip around Southern Italy. The battalion is justly credited with having endured more hardships than any other in the 332nd.”

As early as 25 November 1918, the U.S. Army’s Gen. Tasker H. Bliss was concerned about American soldiers operating outside the scope of American interests, stating, “Because this was not provided in the Armistice, the Army does not have proper instructions and serves Italians.

Ironically, the U.S. Army was unwittingly serving the interest of Italian political and territorial machinations but was loved by Italy’s newfound foe, the Yugoslavians. Balkan and Eastern Adriatic natives somewhat correctly identified the presence of American Army troops with the arrival of a new order, the national self-determination so ardently advocated by President Wilson. However, the 332nd’s exclusive command by Italian military leaders, obviously in direct conflict with South Slavic ambitions, made this a precarious situation for every party involved. A field report of the 332nd’s operations under Italian command perfectly illustrates the above-mentioned issue. In a memo titled “The Chargé in Serbia” between American diplomat H. Percival Dodge and the acting secretary of state, Dodge highlights the following overlapping web of American, Italian, and Yugoslavian interests:

At the time Italy was making efforts to occupy Cettigne as she had already occupied the Montenegrin ports of Antivari and Dulcigno but through the efforts of the Allies was dissuaded from this step. Our officers told me however that two companies of Italian troops actually had started for Cettigne, with two companies of American troops (332nd. Infantry) when before reaching the frontier the American commander, Major Scanlon, thought it best to return. The Italians continued and were received at the frontier with gun-shots from the Montenegrins at which they also returned to Cattaro. The Montenegrins are stated to have declared that they would willingly have allowed the Americans to go to Cettigne but absolutely refused to allow the Italians to pass. Serbian troops were occupying Cettigne at the time as well as the principal points of Montenegro.

On this incident, a second memo states, “The facts are exceedingly obscure, and it is doubtful if they are known to any living persons.”  It is even more vexing to consider that these were American troops, under Italian command, operating in the French sector of the Eastern Adriatic.

The Italian army would again employ American troops in another nation’s zone, Great Britain, when they marched them into Fiume on 19 November. It’s worth noting that, within a few weeks of this, the British would abandon their sector of Fiume, leaving it open for Italian army occupation. In The American Naval Mission in the Adriatic, 1918-1921, Dr. A. C. Davidonis states, “Italy employed American troops at Fiume to advance her own political interests,” and that the presence of them gave their objective the veneer of “a legitimate interallied occupation.” In Joseph Lettau’s In Italy with the 332nd Infantry, he states, “It is said that when the Italians attempted to enter Fiume after the armistice was signed, they saw so many Jugo-Slav guns pointed their way that the expedition was called off until Americans could be found to land first. All felt sure that the Slavs would not fire upon Americans,” alluding to Davidonis’s point of using Americans as dressing for an inter-allied occupation force.

As early as 28 November, misuse of the American troops had reached negotiations in Paris, and Secretary of War Newton Baker ordered Pershing to recall the 332nd. However, American diplomat Col. Edward M. House (an honorary title), a longtime sympathizer of the Italian nation and post-conflict cause, intervened; he  convinced Wilson to keep the American troops in the Adriatic to avoid creating an “unfortunate impression.”

Though U.S. soldiers narrowly avoided indirect gunfire during the Italian march to Cettigne, life for the soldiers billeted in Fiume was much more easygoing. American officers were barracked in luxurious quarters aboard a commandeered Austrian steamer, and the troops were scattered throughout the city. This was done intentionally to keep American supervision of their own troops to a minimum and to maximize their use for Italian motives. Furthermore, Italian officers were always placed in charge; Lettau describes the practice in the following terms: “This detestable practice of placing a higher Italian officer over the highest ranking American officer present was a favorite play of the Italians.”

The 332nd Arrives Home, April 1919

By March 1919, however, the writing was on the wall, and the political misuse of U.S. soldiers was too obvious to Wilson and American policymakers. Bliss stated, “It is my unanimous opinion of the American Peace Mission that … the American troops are being used to further a policy of occupation and penetration” and that “the regiment is being employed not for legitimate military purposes but to further political aims.” The 332nd was finally consolidated, assembled in Genoa, Italy, and returned to the United States in April 1919.  They arrived at New York on 14 April, and the following week paraded through the city. Shortly afterwards, the regiment was moved back to Camp Sherman, Ohio, where on 26 April the regiment marched through Cleveland, Ohio. The process of demobilization began after this and over the course of a couple of weeks its various sub-units were disbanded as personnel were discharged. On 5 May 1919, the regiment itself was finally disbanded.

Source: Excerpted from: "Political Troops: The U.S. Army in the Adriatic, 1918-1919," Military Review, September-October 2025

After Rasputin – The Most Controversial Russian of the War Was Vladimir Sukhomlinov

Vladimir Aleksandrovich Sukhomlinov

Vladimir Aleksandrovich Sukhomlinov (born 1848—died 1926) was a Russian general and minister of war who was largely blamed for Russia’s premature and unprepared entry into World War I. [Note:  The late British Eastern Front historian Norman Stone has argued that excessive culpability for Russia's shortcomings has been laid on Sukhomlinov's reputation.]

Sukhomlinov graduated from Nikolayevskoye Cavalry School in 1867 and served in the Uhlans of the Imperial Guard Regiment based in Warsaw. He graduated from the General Staff Academy in 1874 and participated in the Russo-Turkish War (1877–1878), serving for some time on the staff of General Mikhail Skobelev and was awarded the Order of St. George, 4th class. He subsequently advanced as a fast-rising field grade officer, a key assignment being as the highly visible head of the officer cavalry school in St. Petersburg from 1886 to 1897. At this time he certainly came to the attention of the future Tsar Nicholas II. At some point, Sukhomlinov—a charming and much-admired raconteur—became a favorite of  the tsar. He and his fourth wife, who was thirty years his junior, would also later become friends with Rasputin.

In any case, he was promoted the next year to general and his career advancement accelerated. Sukhomlinov became chief of staff of the army in  December 1908 and then—almost immediately— appointed Russia's Minister of War.  He served as war minister from 1909 to 1915, and it was under him that the Russian orders for mobilization were given at the outbreak of World War I. 

At the time of Austria’s ultimatum to Serbia, Sukhomlinov assured the government of the combat readiness of Russian troops. The partial mobilization soon revealed the demoralized and unequipped state of the nation’s armed forces. As the war progressed, Russian combat operations were increasingly hampered by shortages of arms, ammunition, and other war matériel, but Sukhomlinov continued to insist that the army was adequately supplied. 

Sukhomlinov (far left), accompanying Emperor Nicholas II during his 1911
trip to Ovruch, is present at the presentation of bread and salt to
Nicholas II by representatives of the city.

Sukhomlinov (far left), accompanying Emperor Nicholas II during his 1911 trip to Ovruch, is present at the presentation of bread and salt to Nicholas II by representatives of the city.

British Observer Major General Sir Alfred Knox recorded some interesting observations of Sukhomlinov's deceptions about artillery shell production in his diary: 

The Minister of War replied on September 28th that the question of the supply of ammunition in the Russian army gave no cause for anxiety, and that the Ministry of War was taking all necessary steps to provide everything required. At the same time the French Military Attache learned from an unofficial source that the output of factories in Russia then amounted to only 35,000 shell a month. Unfortunately, he had no means of ascertaining that the rate of expenditure at the front then averaged 45,000 a day, and he believed that the initial stock on mobilization was more than twice as large as it really was.

If General Sukhomlinov and his Staff had worried to appreciate the situation at the end of September, they must have known that the initial stock only provided shells for two more months of war, and they should then at once have taken adequate measures to cope with the difficulty by ordering from abroad.

It subsequently became known that the officials at Petrograd had received ample warning. On September 9th the Staff of the South-West Front had telegraphed to the Artillery Department : "It is essential to replace the almost exhausted supplies of shell." On October 26th Ivanov had telegraphed : " Supplies of ammunition are entirely exhausted. If not replenished, operations will have to be broken off and the troops retired under most difficult conditions."

Over a year later I learned on unimpeachable authority that in the middle of October General Kuzmin Karavaev, an honourable old man, whose nerves had been shaken by his immense responsibilities as Chief of the Artillery Department, went to Sukhomlinov, weeping, and said that Russia would have to make peace owing to the shortage of artillery ammunition. The Minister of War told him to "go to the devil and quiet himself."

. . .  I interviewed Sukhomlinov in Petrograd on December 16th [1914] to ascertain his views regarding rifles and shells. His first remark was: "As you know, the Germans have been preparing for this war since 1870. We never commenced preparation till five years ago, when I became Minister of War. We have done a lot since then, but I wanted two years more.

 

Sukhomlinov with a Contingent of Allied Officers
(Possibly That Is Sir Alfred Knox in the Rear)

As Minister of War, Sukhomlinov was never trusted by the Army Committee of the State Duma, led by Alexander Guchkov.  Guchkov challenged one of Sukhomlinov's allies to  duel, which turned out to be mutually non-fatal. Sukhomlinov was also resented by Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolayevich, the commander-in-chief of the Russian forces in the first phase of World War I. The hostile relationship between the army commander and war minister was intensified by the latter's association with purported spy Colonel Sergey Nikolayevich Myasoyedov, who was eventually executed for treason.

In June 1915 the thoroughly discredited Sukhomlinov was dismissed and replaced by the able General A.A. Polivanov. Despite Sukhomlinov’s close ties with the tsar, public sentiment ran high and charges of malfeasance, corruption, and treason were brought against him by the Duma. He was arrested in April 1916, freed in October at the tsar’s instigation, and rearrested after the Revolution by the provisional government. At his trial in the autumn of 1917, he was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment at hard labor. He was freed by an amnesty granted by the Bolsheviks and went to Finland and later to Germany, where he composed his memoirs, Erinnerungen, published in 1924. He died in poverty in Berlin in February 1926.

Sources:  Encyclopedia Britannica;  "Terrible Internal Enemy", Military Review, January 2015; Wikipedia; With the Russian Army, 1914-1917,  Major General Sir Alfred Knox.

Hollywood Goes to (World) War (One) – Video

 

Recommended by Film Reviewer Andrew Melomet

Eyewitness: A Badly Wounded Private Allan (CEF) Is Taken Prisoner, 2 June 1916

Canadian Prisoners of War with a German Guard

Given the size of the Canadian Expeditionary Force (CEF) and the nature of the First World War, the number of Canadian prisoners of war (POWs) was surprisingly small. According to the Report of the Ministry, Overseas Military Forces of Canada, published in London in 1919, some 3,747 men, including 236 officers, were captured by enemy forces and interned in Germany or in occupied France. The Overseas Ministry reported that 301 died in captivity; 438 were repatriated prior to the end of hostilities; and 100 men, including one officer, escaped during the war. 

Private Alexander Millar Allan (1887–1968) born in Wishaw, Scotland, was an organist and choirmaster by profession when he enlisted in the Canadian Expeditionary Force in Collingwood, Ontario, on 24 September 1915, service number 475313. He originally joined the 4th University Battery but was transferred to the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry.

He was wounded at the battle of Mont Sorrel and went missing 2–4 June 1916. He lay injured on the battlefield for two days, surviving multiple artillery bombardments, before becoming a prisoner of war and eventually being repatriated to England, and later Canada, during the war.

. . . for I walked right into a number of Germans. Not a soul spoke they all watched me with staring eyes. I looked at them for a few minutes examining the focus of every one, then signed to them that I wanted water. Still nobody spoke; when I saw that they weren’t likely to have water to give me, I crawled on my way through them all, and not one offered to stop me. I continued on my way with the idea of getting to a place where I knew we had water; very soon I met an officer and some men; when he saw me he yelled ‘the enemy’! Now, I thought, here is where I get it; he calls me the enemy; not much hope there.

I slid down on to the ground and waited to see what was going to happen. He gave a few sharp orders. I looked up to see what he was about to do and I must say I was surprised; he was looking at me with sympathy clearly marked on his face. His orders were to one of his men to take me along to the dressing station and see that I was properly attended to.

Private Allan's lower left jaw was badly damaged and initially treated by the Germans. He was returned from Germany and admitted to the Queen Alexandra Hospital (Millbank) in London, England, on 9 December 1916, where a rib bone was grafted to his jaw, after which he was transferred to the CCAC Shoreham and then on to Hastings. On 10 March 1917, he was transferred to the Eastern Ontario Regimental Depot at Seaford before being invalided to Canada on 25 May 1918 via Liverpool. Upon his return to Canada he was admitted to the Davisville Military Hospital in Toronto on 7 June 1918 for further treatment and was discharged on 12 September 1918. As a result of the damage to his jaw he required special dentures and could no longer sing but returned to being an organist. Allan died in Toronto in 1968.

Source: Canadian War Museum

Haubourdin Aerodrome — The RAF's Landmark Mass Air Attack

A Royal Aircraft Factory SE5a (L) and Sopwith Camel (R) on the Attack

The first massed low-level attack by the Royal Flying Corps on an enemy airfield was carried out on 16 August 1918, when 65 Royal Aircraft Factory SE5as, Sopwith Camels, Bristol Fighters, and de Havilland DH4s flown by Australian and British pilots attacked the German aerodrome at Haubourdin, located on the southwesterly outskirts of Lille, France. The raid was part of a campaign to reduce the concentration of airfields around Lille, which had been a German stronghold for nearly the entire war. The attacking aircraft carried  incendiary and explosive bombs and all the machine-gun ammunition it could carry.  No British aircraft were lost.

Damage to the Aerodrome During the Attack

The Post-Raid Communiqué 

“A raid was carried out on Haubourdin Aerodrome by Nos 88 and 92 Squadrons and 2nd and 4th Squadrons A.F.C. Sixty-five machines in all took part, dropping 136 25-lb and 6 40-lb bombs and firing a large number of rounds from a height varying from 400 to 50 feet. Three large hangars containing machines were completely burnt, and two machines standing outside were set on fire. Several fires were started in huts, and what is believed to be the officers’ mess was blown up and burnt. Several other hangars, in addition to those burnt, received direct hits. The station at Haubourdin was also attacked with machine gun fire from low height, causing confusion among the troops. Two staff cars were fired at, one of which upset in a ditch and another ran up a steep bank; the occupants were not observed to leave. A train was also shot at, which stopped. Considerable casualties were caused among personnel at the Aerodrome who were seen rushing take refuge in a hospital. All machines returned.”

Later review of the German war diaries suggest that Jasta 43 had five aircraft destroyed and two damaged and was grounded until 3 September. Jasta 63 also had one destroyed and a number of others damaged.

Sources: Royal Air Force Museum;  Wings, August 2015; HistoryNet

Notable Medical Researchers from World War I

Some of the greatest medical researchers of the 20th century served in World War I, often gaining insights and motivation for their later accomplishments from their wartime experiences.  Medicine and medical research are two of the many specialties of our regular contributor James Patton. You can find his fascinating in-depth articles  HERE.

Capt. Frederick Banting, Canada:

Surgeon, Canadian Army Medical Corps; wounded in action and decorated for heroism; co-discoverer of insulin; Nobel Prize 1923; killed in plane crash en route to service in WWII.

Grenadier Gerhard Domagk, Germany:

Volunteer with Leibgrenadier Regiment of Frankfurt; wounded on the Eastern Front; transferred to the Medical Corps and worked in numerous cholera hospitals; became M.D. after the war; world's leading researcher in chemotherapy; awarded Nobel Prize in 1940; Nazis forced him to decline award, but he was able to accept it in 1947.

Capt. Alexander Fleming, Great Britain:

Royal Medical Corps, Wound Research Center, Hospital 13, Boulogne, Fr.; inspired by his observations and experiments on the practical effects of antiseptics, he shortly thereafter led effort to develop penicillin; Nobel Prize 1945.

Lt. Herbert Gasser, U.S.A.:

Chemical Warfare Service; did research on traumatic shock; credited with theory unifying nerve physiology and electro-physics; Nobel Prize 1944.

Capt. Paul Dudley White, U.S.A.:

Medical Corps American Expeditionary Force; later assisted Red Cross in fighting a typhus epidemic in Macedonia; pioneer in electrocardiography, heart disease research, and vascular medicine; gained fame when called in as consultant on President Eisenhower's heart attacks; early advocate of exercise and proper diet to prevent heart problems.

Million Dollar Barrage: American Field Artillery in the Great War

By Justin G. Prince

University of Oklahoma Press, 2021

Dr. Michael Boden, Reviewer

U.S. 75mm Battery at Château-Thierry
By Jack Duncan 

Originally presented in Army History, Fall 2023

The numerous innovations in the conduct of war at the start of the 20th century are well known to most people who study the military history of the era. Technological advancements, tactical and operational developments, growing global political rivalries, and other conditions all contributed to the changing character of war. Justin Prince tackles one particular dimension of this environment, the origins of the U.S. Army’s Field Artillery branch, in his work, Million Dollar Barrage: American Field Artillery in the Great War. 

To Prince, this period was of primary importance to the service’s coming of age. Prince notes that “these formative years, from 1907 to 1923, saw the establishment of a modern field artillery branch, and through the missteps, failures, problems, debates, and successes, the field artillery gained a new primacy in the minds of American military thinkers” (189). 

To support this assertion, throughout his narrative Prince consistently focuses on three particular areas of development: doctrine, technology, and “the debates about open warfare.”  The book progresses chronologically, for the most part, although there are some overlaps in chapter focus depending on the issue under consideration.

After the introductory chapter, chapters 2  and 3 focus on conditions that necessitated a dramatic change in the application of American field artillery. The second chapter hones in on those developments from 1897 to 1913 that frame the American experience, including such key events as the introduction of the French 75mm gun in 1897,  the separation of field artillery from coast artillery in 1907, and the establishment of the School of Fire at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, in 1911. The third chapter aligns closely with  these initial parameters as Prince emphasizes American technological and training challenges in the years leading up to the First World War. One constant in this period is the importance of the Field Artillery Journal and the centrality of the Fort Sill experience and curriculum in shaping American artillery development. The fourth chapter emphasizes the challenges associated with arming the branch and the friction that developed between the Ordnance Department and the Field Artillery branch in procurement prior to American entry into the war.  This friction resulted, to Prince, in numerous comprehensive shortcomings that persisted through the war, such as the lack of heavy artillery development and the slipshod attempt at developing a standard American field piece.

The following three chapters address the substantial qualitative developments experienced by the force throughout combat operations in Europe. The issues and themes at the forefront in the previous three chapters come together in the fifth, on artillery training after the American entry into the war. The sixth chapter focuses particularly on American observation of fire issues, of which the lack of quality observation methods and poor air coordination were two of the most significant. The seventh concentrates on the application of previous training and development during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. 

Only in the final campaign does Prince perceive that the service addressed many of the issues faced by American artillerymen. To the author, the Meuse-Argonne “was the crucible that shaped American artillery into an effective  military weapon” (164).

The final two chapters summarize the developments of the immediate postwar years (to 1923) and the lessons learned by the American field artillery branch. During these five years, in the immediate aftermath of the First World War, Prince identifies pivotal developments in the American field artillery service, with relatively swift and broad espousal of lessons learned in the conflict. Prince concludes that training shortcomings were the primary cause of concern for the development of the field artillery service, although not a shortcoming that existed in a vacuum, as they included doctrinal, technological, and fiscal issues. This open attitude helped provide the foundations for acceptance as an equal branch of service on the modern battlefield and the transition from follower to leader in terms of global tactical and technological innovation in the interwar years.

Prince’s approach on a few aspects of methodology should be noted. These are not necessarily critiques but rather observations on his process. For instance, Prince’s discussion of actions in the war occupies a limited frame of the work as a whole—parts of only three chapters. There is less in the work that reflects the long form of the title, American Field Artillery in the Great War, than one might expect. The only chapter that  considers the conduct of combat operations looks solely at the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. One wonders if similar American operations, such as the earlier III Corps operations around Soissons (with the French) or the II Corps actions on the Somme (with the British), experienced the same model of growth and progression that Prince sees in the larger campaign.

Prince’s analysis consistently considers those topics previously noted throughout the work—doctrine, technology, and open warfare. Within that analysis, Prince focuses more on systems as opposed to the role of individuals. Individual agency, though not completely absent, takes a back seat to the roles of institutions and agencies. There are a few exceptions, to be sure. The postwar chief of artillery, Maj. Gen. William J. Snow, was a prominent early advocate for the branch in the prewar years, and Maj. Gen. Charles P. Summerall’s advocacy for artillery development is noted throughout the narrative.

Order HERE

In developing and presenting his argument, Prince is to be commended for his attention to detail. He is adept at demonstrating how particular issues (e.g. the lack of a standard American field piece for the war) caused friction and challenges in numerous other aspects of wartime development—in this case, training, procurement, and doctrine. A reader with a degree of  experience in the history of American field artillery will find many insightful contributions in these pages. However, for those with little or no prior knowledge, much of the significance of these passages and their detail will be difficult to fully ascertain. Prince also relies a great deal on the articles and arguments presented in the Field Artillery Journal and does an excellent job of demonstrating why that source must be of primary importance when looking at the era’s developments. Aside from these minor observations, anyone interested not just in American field artillery but also in the First World War or in early challenges of combined-arms operations will find Prince’s book of significant value.

Dr. Michael Boden

The Great War's 101 Defining Events, Part 2: 51 – 101

51 — 101

Click on Page Image for Easier Reading

Source: Over the Top Magazine: May 2008

The Great War's 101 Defining Events, Part 1: 1 – 50

1 — 50

Click on Page Image for Easier Reading

51-101 Presented Tomorrow

Source:  Over the Top Magazine: May 2008

The 4th of July 1918 for the AEF

The Fourth of July holiday is an occasion for the United States of America to celebrate and commemorate the birth of the nation. It is interesting to recall how this holiday was celebrated during the years America participated in World War I. The entry of the United States into the war provided a massive boost to the Allied powers and marked a significant moment in the conflict. In 1917, the earliest arriving new Doughboys paraded upon their arrival, most famously in Paris on 4 July, when the U.S. 16th Infantry provided men for the ceremonial event. 

By the 4th of 1918, however, with America massively committed on the battlefields, excitement about the Yanks was heightened. In London, American soldiers and sailors played a baseball game with the King in attendance and participated in parades around the British Isles. But in Paris, a parade like the 1917 event was planned, but this time it would involve "blooded" American veterans of the recent fighting in France. Jointly marching with French Poilu units, American soldiers who had fought at Cantigny, Marine veterans of Belleau Wood, and a detachment of Red Cross nurses made up the U.S. contingent. They were led by an Army band, playing tunes like "Over There." Notably, as part of the proceedings, a ceremony was held to mark the renaming of Avenue du President Wilson.

The New York Times reported on July 4, 1918 that:

Paris turned out today as almost never in its history to celebrate the Fourth of July. The French capital not only extended a royal welcome to the Americans here, but made a thorough holiday of the day on its own account. . . The walls of the Louvre, which has looked very gray and grim with locked doors and hidden treasure since the beginning of the war, are now ablaze with the colors of the two Republics, and the black mourning which has draped the statue of the city of Strasbourg in the Place de la Concorde … is relieved by the red, white and blue of America. . . The American troops marching through the city were welcomed by crowds of people that jammed every available inch of space and every window in the buildings along the line of march, on roofs, and even in trees, cheered themselves hoarse’. 

On the same day, while the parade was underway, American troops of the 33rd Division were fighting alongside Aussies to liberate the village of Hamel north of Paris. 

Sources:  Troy University Archives, WWI Centennial Commission; NY Times Archives.

Professional Actors Read WWI Letters (Videos)

Peter Capaldi 

Reads a letter from Captain Reginald John Armes to his wife on the Christmas Truce.

HERE

Charles Dart 

Reads a letter to a mother from Corporal W. J. Woolfrey about her son Herbert Wiseman's death on a Belgian battlefield during the First World War.

HERE

 Colin Firth & Taron Edgerton 

Read Rudyard Kipling's letter exchange with his 17-year-old son Lt. Jack Kipling.

HERE

Source:  Letters from World War I: In Their Own Words

The Chemistry of World War I Gas

The Gas Alarm Is Sounded

James Patton

An enduring hallmark of WWI, along with the trenches and the mud, is the large-scale use of chemical weapons, commonly called simply "gas." Although chemical warfare caused less than one percent of the total deaths, the treatment of many thousands of gassed soldiers was a significant drain on manpower. The "psy-war." or fear factor, was itself a formidable weapon. Chemical warfare was subsequently prohibited by the Geneva Protocol of 1925. Chemical warfare has been occasionally used since then but never in WWI-scale quantities. Although deployable inventories have been largely eliminated, production of some of the subject chemicals continues as they have peaceful uses—for example, phosgene is an industrial reagent, a precursor of pharmaceuticals (including some anti-cancer drugs), certain plastics, and other important organic compounds.

Several chemicals were weaponized in WWI. It began in August 1914 when France deployed gas grenades against the Germans. The Germans followed, gassing the Russians in January 1915. The agents used by the French was ethyl bromo acetate (BrCH2CO2CH2CH3 ) described as "fruity and pungent," while the Germans used xylyl bromide ( C6H4(CH3)(CH2Br)). which is described as smelling "pleasant and aromatic." Both are colorless liquids and have to be atomized. Both are lachrymatory agents ("tear gas"); they irritate the eyes and cause uncontrolled crying. Large doses can cause temporary blindness. If inhaled they can cause gasping. These symptoms usually resolve within 30 minutes after contact. 

The German set up a gas warfare program, headed by future Nobel Laureate Fritz Haber (1868–1934), who had previously developed the process by which nitrates could be made from atmospheric nitrogen. Haber’s first chemical weapon was chlorine gas (Cl₂,) which was debuted in April 1915. Chlorine gas is diatomic, about two and a half times denser than air, pale green in color and with an odor which was described as a "mix of pineapple and pepper." If inhaled, it will react with moisture in the lungs to form hydrochloric acid (HCl), which will quickly lead to death. Even at lower concentrations, it can still cause coughing, vomiting, and eye irritation.

Early Depiction of Gas Attack at Second Ypres, 1915

Chlorine can be deadly against unprotected soldiers, and it’s estimated that over 1,100 were killed in the first use during the Second Battle of Ypres. But that day the Germans weren’t prepared for how effective the gas  would be and were therefore unable to exploit the gap in the line that was created.

Chlorine’s usefulness was short-lived. Its color and odor made it easy to spot, and since chlorine is water-soluble, even soldiers without gas masks could reduce its effects by placing water-soaked rags over their mouth and nose. It was reported that Canadian soldiers at 2nd Ypres used urine-soaked hankies for protection, but the chemistry of the chlorine reacting with the ammonia in the urine produces two additional irritants: chloramines (such as NH2Cl),  which can cause coughing, nausea, and even trigger asthma attacks, and cyanogen chloride (CNCl), which irritates the eyes, nose, and bronchial tract.  Releasing the chlorine gas as a cloud was very hard to manage, as the British learned to their detriment when they released chlorine gas at Loos in September 1915. The wind shifted on them, carrying the gas back onto their own men.

Phosgene, carbonyl dichloride (COCl2), was Haber’s next product, probably first used by the Germans in December 1915 at Ypres. Phosgene is a colorless gas, with an odor likened to that of "musty hay," but for the odor to be detectable, the concentration has to be at least 0.4 parts per million, or several times the level at which harmful effects will occur. Phosgene is highly toxic due to its ability to react with proteins in the alveoli of the lungs, disrupting the blood-air barrier and causing suffocation. 

Aftermath of Actual Gas Attack at Fromelles, 1916

As a weapon, phosgene was much more effective and deadly than chlorine, though one drawback was that the symptoms could sometimes take up to 48 hours to manifest. The immediate effects are lachrymatory. Subsequently, it can cause the build-up of fluid in the lungs, leading to death. It’s estimated that as many as 85 percent of the estimated 91,000 gas deaths in WWI were a result of phosgene or a similar agent called diphosgene trichloromethane chloroformate ( ClCO₂CCl₃), which is a liquid at ambient environmental temperatures, so has to be deployed as an aerosol. 

The most commonly used gas was "mustard gas," (bis(2-chloroethyl sulfide) (C₄H₈Cl₂S). When pure, this is colorless, but in WWI impure forms were used, which had the mustard-like color. There is no chemical relationship between mustard gas and the condiment, although mustard gas has an odor reminiscent of garlic or horseradish. Mustard gas is an irritant and a strong vesicant (blister-forming agent); it causes chemical burns on contact, with the blisters oozing yellow fluid. Initial exposure is symptomless, and by the time skin irritation begins, it is too late to take preventative measures. Like diphosgene, it is a  liquid and has to be deployed as an aerosol, but it can linger on surfaces such as clothing for a long time. The mortality rate from mustard gas was only two to three percent of cases, but those who suffered chemical burns and respiratory problems required long hospitalizations and, even if they recovered, UK sources say they turned out to be at higher risk of developing cancers during later life. 

Akin to mustard gas, the U.S. Chemical Warfare Service had developed the vesicant aerosol chlorovinyldichloroarsine (C2H2AsCl3  ), known as "Lewisite." Often referred to as "the dew of death," it smelled like geraniums and exposure caused massive skin blistering, eye damage and severe respiratory distress, and if it was absorbed, it could cause systemic arsenic poisoning. In 1940, it was discovered that injections of dimercaprol (C3H8OS2 ) are an effective antidote.

German Medic Equipped for Gas Warfare

German-developed chloropicrin (Cl3CNO2), diphenylchlorarsine (code-named Clark 1) ((C6H5)2AsCl), and diphenylcyanoarsine (C13H10AsN) (code-named Clark 2), both colloquially known as "sneezing oil," plus the American-developed diphenylaminechlorarsine (C12H9AsClN), familiarly called Adamsite or DM, were aerosols widely used as "mask-busters"—irritants that could get through the gas mask filters, thus making soldiers have to remove their masks, thereby exposing themselves to the phosgene barrage that would shortly follow. Today DM remains present in the inventories of riot control agents.

After the mostly unsuccessful and sometimes disastrous releases of gas from pressure tanks, such as at Loos, chemical attacks were delivered in artillery shells or by projectors that ejected canisters that burst on contact. The gaseous agent(s) were in liquid form under pressure in glass bottles inside the warhead, which would break on contact, and the liquid would quickly evaporate. The aerosols used a small explosive charge to disperse the liquid as drops.

Different types of gas were often used in combinations, so to enable their appropriate use, the artillery shells were color-coded: green cross shells had the pulmonary agents—chlorine, phosgene, and diphosgene; white cross had the tear gases; blue cross had the "mask-busters; gold (or yellow) cross had the mustard gas; and red stripe was for the Lewisite. 

Imperial War Museum's Collection of WWI Gas Respirators

Although mustard gas was never used in combat in WWII, all sides had inventories available. On 3 December 1943, a German air raid on the port of Bari, Italy, destroyed 28 Allied ships. One of these was the American Liberty Ship S.S. John Harvey, whose cargo of munitions included 2,000 M47A1 mustard gas bombs, each holding 60–70 lbs of the agent. The munitions on the Harvey detonated, causing a huge release of mustard gas in both liquid and aerosol forms. There were 628 cases of mustard gas poisoning of U.S. personnel,  83 of which were fatal. No figures are available for Italian civilian casualties. The incident was covered up; all of the official records were sealed until 1958. 

While we’re on the subject of gas in WWII, it should be made clear that Zyklon B, the agent used to kill millions at Auschwitz (and other sites) wasn’t used in WWI. It hadn’t even been invented yet. Chemically, Zyklon B is a gaseous version of hydrogen cyanide (HCN), commonly known as prussic acid, which blocks respiration by inhibiting the production of adenosine triphosphate (ATP). It wasn’t discovered by Haber (it was first isolated in France in 1752), but it was developed in the 1920s by men who had worked in Haber’s chemical weapons lab during WWI. Zyklon B was first patented (for use as a pesticide) in 1926. HCN (not in the form of Zyklon B) is still used today as a precursor in the production of certain plastics and pharmaceuticals. 

Souces include the BBC magazine http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-31042472 Some of this material was previously published by the author at the University of Kansas Medical Center’s Webpage Medicine in the First World War, now archived at  https://www.kumc.edu/school-of-medicine/academics/departments/history-and-philosophy-of-medicine/archives/wwi.html 

110 Years Ago Today, the 141 Days of the Somme Began

 

Some Random Thoughts

By Editor/Publisher Mike Hanlon

One summer day in 2016, I had a wonderful time in Sacramento, CA, making a presentation on the coming centennial of the Battle of the Somme for the city library's World War I Revisited Project. The turn-out was a "full house" and the audience was engaged and knowledgeable about the war. Our host, James Scott, could not have been more hospitable and helpful. I made some notes for my PowerPoint presentation. Here are some of my comments and images I used during the presentation, somewhat revised over the ensuing decade. Please keep in mind these are my views alone.  In the past, Roads to the Great War has published numerous articles on the famous battle; at the bottom you can find some tips on how to quickly access them.

1.  In the English-speaking world the Somme remains the war's signature battle. It gave the 20th century its most haunting image (at least before the mushroom cloud), a soldier rising out of a trench mowed down in no-man's-land in his tracks.

 

Men of the Newfoundland Regiment, 29th Division, 1 July 1916
In a Short Time 90 Percent of These Men Will Be Dead, Dying, or Wounded

2.  The First Day on the Somme is a story told over and over, but the next 140 days of the battle are the more important part of the tale. In the larger British sector, where the original intention was the rupture the German line, the battle seamlessly evolved into a war of attrition. The 60,000 killed and wounded they suffered on 1 July 1916 was multiplied by a factor of seven. Furthermore, in some dance of death, the German Army—despite having all the defensive advantages—managed to closely parallel the British losses.

3. Many authors focus blame for the incredible casualties on either Douglas Haig or 4th Army commander, Henry Rawlinson. Another entry in that discussion should be none other than General Joffre. Recall that France was the dominant member of the 1916 coalition and led (forcefully) the planning for that year's campaign. It was to be a joint French-British attack, originally with 39 French divisions committed. The requirements of dealing with Verdun did not inhibit Joffre's drive for the attack to proceed despite:

a.  An ever diminishing availability of French divisions, and

b. The skepticism about the whole affair from the northern sector commander, Ferdinand Foch.

Thiepval, Now Site of the Largest Somme Memorial
Close to the Front Line But Not Captured Until September 1916

4.  General Foch was one of the victims of the Somme. After the failure of the five-month battles and losses that accumulated at the same rate as Verdun, he found himself in disfavor and was pushed to the side in favor of the rising star, Robert Nivelle. Luckily, Foch was rehabilitated in time to become the most important Allied general of the 1918 campaign.

5.  The rolling, apparently open country of the Somme looked like the perfect location to attempt a major breakthrough. However, the Germans had been in the sector since October 1914 and converted every village, rise, ridge, and forest into a defensive stronghold. After the failure of the first day's assault, following the sound military principle of reinforcing success, rather than failure, Haig's staff decided to push south of the Albert-Baupame Road where there had been some modest, although incredibly expensive success around Fricourt village, and the singular fully successful British operation of the day, the capture of Montauban village.  The valley they chose to move through had a horseshoe of five small forests: Mametz, Bazantin, High, Delville, and Trones Woods. Each was a superb defensive position on a plateau, commanding the gently rising surrounding countryside. Readers know the story of Belleau Wood for the U.S. Marines. The middle phase of the Somme was Belleau Wood times five for the British Army.

6. One mystery about the Somme that I've never seen satisfactorily explained is how the German Army, which had minimal casualties on 1 July, managed to catch up to the grand total for the British Army over the next 140 days, despite being on the defensive throughout. They started out with all the advantageous positions, and they knew the Allies' intentions. Didn't the machine gun and massed artillery give the defenders a decisive advantage? Everywhere else they did. (I've concluded since I first wrote this section that a good portion of the German losses must have been due to their commanders obsessive practice of immediately counterattacking to regain any lost ground.)

Vigil at Thiepval Memorial, July 2016

7.  The Pals Battalions and, in general, the commitment of the under-trained New Army divisions are part of the tragic dimension of the Somme and elements of its compelling mythic heritage with its soccer balls, the Leaning Virgin, sacred trees, and countless memorials and cemeteries of varied design. The near-annihilation of the experienced 29th Division (with eight months continual combat at Gallipoli) in trying to capture the mine site on Hawthorne Ridge and Y-Ravine, however, shows that there were more fundamental flaws in the initial concept that the inexperience of the troops.

Hull Commercial Pals Approaching the Somme, 28 June 1916

8.  The poor bloody infantry suffered the most, of course. But the failure of the campaign was due to the poor performance of the artillery. To begin with, the Royal Artillery simply lacked enough guns, especially larger pieces. None of their major missions—cutting the wire, destroying trenches and redoubts, supporting the advancing infantry, and suppressing enemy artillery—were accomplished to an acceptable level. Plus, they suffered a high number of duds, many of which came from American suppliers.

9.  The Somme is the Great War's most remembered battle (at least in the English-speaking world). Last time I checked, the U.S. Library of Congress catalog had 289 citations for the "Battle of the Somme" and only 161 entries–combined–for the three biggest American battles of the war, the Second  Marne, St. Mihiel, and the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. I'm sure the ratio would be much greater in, say, the British Library. Why the Somme fascination? Some speculations:

a.  It was almost inhuman in scale. The casualties for the British on that first day, and for both sides for its duration are draw-dropping. Beside those wounded, crippled-for-life and killed, there is no better symbol of the Somme than the Lochnagar Mine Crater shown above, which was fired on the first morning of the battle.

b.  Much of what we know about the battle comes from British sources, and the Somme sent shock waves through the British Empire like few other events in  history (India Mutiny?, Fall of Singapore?). It affected every level of their stratified society from the working class Pals of Accrington to the graduates of the "playing fields of Eton." (Over 1,100 Etonians died on the Great War's battlefields.) It drew-in and touched every corner of the empire.  Canadians, Anzacs, South Africans, and even Indian Lancers, served and died at the Somme.

Robert Graves

Alan Seeger

c. The Somme marks a literary fault line. The early war poets, like Rupert Brooke, John McCrae, and Alan Seeger, wrote of tradition, duty, and sacrifice. Well, Seeger dutifully met his "Rendezvous with Death" at the Somme on 4 July 1916, while serving with the French Foreign Legion. About the same time, two junior officers of the 38th Welsh Division named Siegfried Sassoon and Robert Graves were in the neighborhood of  Mametz Wood, where their units would encounter a brutal fights. They would later help initiate what has become the more famous school of war writers, the rejectors of the past, who saw the war as futile and a great betrayal. Graves later wrote, "I found in Mametz Wood a certain cure for lust of blood" and aptly titled his war memoir Goodbye to All That.

10.  Final Irony

After all that happened in 1916, what happened next truly must have seemed to have made the whole effort appear futile. The red area on the map below marks all the territory captured by British and French forces in the 1916 battle. The green line marks Operation Alberich, AKA, the retreat to the Hindenburg Line (9 Feb–20 Mar 1917). The Allies were "gifted" with three times the territory they had bled barrels for, and the Germans were manning a shorter and much more defensible front line.

Roads to the Great War
Has Much More on the Battle of the Somme

Just enter "Somme 1916" in the search box at the top of the screen and you will find over two dozen articles we have presented in the past on the battle.

Revised from my earlier two-part version of this article, which have been removed from the site. MH