Order No. I of the Petrograd Soviet, March 14, 1917

Soldiers in Petrograd at the Time, 1

This was the first official decree of the Petrograd Soviet of Workers' and Soldiers' Deputies after the February Revolution of 1917.  There is a widespread belief that Order Number 1 infamously allowed for the election of officers, thus completely undermining military discipline. The order, however, actually makes no provision for the election of officers. The elections spoken of in the order itself are for representatives to the Petrograd Soviet. However, as historian and Russian native Michael Florinsky wrote 50 years afterward, "it struck at the very heart of army discipline and contributed powerfully to the breakdown of the armed forces. Leon Trotsky called it "the only worthy document of the February Revolution."

Date (Old Style): 1 March 1917

Order No. 1

To the garrison of the Petrograd District. To all the soldiers of the Guard, army, artillery, and fleet for immediate and precise execution, and to the workers of Petrograd for information.

The Soviet of Workers' and Soldiers' Deputies has decided:

1. In all companies, battalions, regiments, depots, batteries, squadrons, and separate branches of military service of every kind and on warships immediately choose committees from the elected representatives of the soldiers and sailors of the above mentioned military units.

2. In all military units which have still not elected their representatives in the Soviet of Workers' Deputies elect one representative to a company, who should appear with written credentials in the building of the State Duma at ten o'clock on the morning of March 2.

3. In all its political demonstrations a military unit is subordinated to the Soviet of Workers' and Soldiers' Deputies and its committees.

4. The orders of the military commission of the State Duma are to be fulfilled only in those cases which do not contradict the orders and decisions of the Soviet of Workers' and Soldiers' Deputies.

5. Arms of all kinds, as rifles, machine guns, armored automobiles, and others must be at the disposition and under the control of the company and battalion committees and are not in any case to be given out to officers, even upon their command.

6. In the ranks and in fulfilling service duties soldiers must observe the strictest military discipline; but outside of service, in their political, civil, and private life soldiers cannot be discriminated against as regards those rights which all citizens enjoy.

Standing at attention and compulsory saluting outside of service are especially abolished.

7. In the same way the addressing of officers with titles: Your Excellency, Your Honor, etc., is abolished and is replaced by the forms of address: Mr. General, Mr. Colonel, etc.

Rude treatment of soldiers of all ranks, and especially addressing them as "thou," is forbidden; and soldiers are bound to bring to the attention of the company committees any violation of this rule and any misunderstandings between officers and soldiers.

This order is to be read in all companies, battalions, regiments, marine units, batteries, and other front and rear military units.

PETROGRAD SOVIET OF WORKERS' AND SOLDIERS' DEPUTIES

Soldiers in Petrograd at the Time, 2

Sources: Yale University's Avalon Project, Wikipedia

The Cartographer of No Man's Land reviewed by David F. Beer

The Cartographer of No Man's Land

by P.S.Duffy

Liveright Publishing Corporation, 2013

This is P. S. Duffy's first novel, and after reading it I find myself hoping it will not be her last. The action alternates between two quite different settings: the coast of Nova Scotia with its small fishing villages where life can be relentlessly harsh and with the Canadian Expeditionary Force in the Great War, particularly at the time of the assaults on Vimy Ridge. The constant oscillation between these two locations is what unites this intriguing story of human feelings, family stress, and life at the front with all its bloodshed and mutilation.

The central character is Angus McGrath, who in 1916 fishes and hauls goods around the Nova Scotia coast in the family's aging schooner, the Lauralee, as his father did before him. Angus is also a would-be sketcher and painter, unrecognized and with little faith in his artistic skills. He is not a particularly contented man: his father is an irascible outspoken pacifist, his wife Hettie is not affectionate, and his young son Simon Peter's love of the sea worries him. Hettie, however, was extremely close to her brother Ebbin and was devastated when he enlisted in the Canadian Army, was sent to France, and, as our story begins, hasn't been heard from for some months.

His wife's anguish over her brother's disappearance leads Angus to enlist, in the wild hope of somehow finding Ebbin at the Front. Everyone is relieved that he's accepted by the Army to be a cartographer on the strength that he has often sketched the coastline of Nova Scotia. This means he'll probably be based in London, far from the fighting but still able to investigate every possible channel that might lead to information about Ebbin. But things don't work out this way, and Angus finds himself in the thick of trench warfare in France. Nevertheless, he continues his search for Ebbin any way he can. How this search is finally resolved is the most surprising part of the novel. But unlike many stories, where the climax occurs at the end, this resolution comes about while there are still several more strands and conflicts to handle, and the author deals with these without losing our interest.

Besides giving us plenty of realistic description of life at the front with all its uncertainty and death, the author excels at bringing the folk in a small town in Nova Scotia to life. As expected, families and normal life have been disrupted by the war and Canada's entry into it, and people have watched as plenty of loved ones went off to fight. Some have already returned, wounded and changed—like George, damaged mentally and physically and haunted by his memory of the cruelty the war horses endure. A respected local teacher, Mr. Heist, is persecuted because of his German name and dubious hobbies.

Halifax, N.S., 6 December 1917

Near the end of the novel the colossal explosion of the freighter Mont-Blanc in Halifax, with its dreadful toll, reverberates throughout Nova Scotia, echoing the foreboding the residents have come to feel about the war overseas and now forcing them to mourn their dead right at home. Finally, Angus, now returned from the war with unspeakable experiences, tentatively reunites with his son. Some readers might think the novel ends too abruptly, but when we consider how much takes place in Nova Scotia and in boats, the use of the oar becomes symbolically very effective. Touches like this throughout the multiple courses of the novel make The Cartographer of No Man's Land a graceful and intriguing read. A word of warning—if you're like me, this book will send you looking for more background and details on the Canadians at Arras and Vimy Ridge.

David F. Beer

Recommended: Mark Steyn on "Roses of Picardy"The Great War's Greatest Ballad

One of my favorite commentators, Canadian ex-pat Mark Steyn, loves the music of the war, especially—and I agree with him 100% on this—the greatest ballad of the war, "Roses of Picardy". Click on the image of his introductory section below to access the Podcast during which Mark presents several renditions of the song, including his own, and much fascinating detail about the music, composer, and lyricist, and "Roses" postwar life.

By the way, "Roses of Picardy" is one of the 20 original period recordings we present on our CD, The World War I Centennial Hit Parade.  

Click Here If You Would Like to Learn More.

Gangster, Doughboy, Hero: Monk Eastman of the 27th Division

The other night — thanks to Netflix — the Lady and I watched Steve Martin, as gangster Vinnie Antonelli, turn the Witness Protection Program inside out in the hilarious comedy My Blue Heaven (hereby recommended). It reminded me that one my favorite biographical sketches we presented on our Doughboy Center website was about a New York gangster named Monk Eastman. Here's Monk's story.

By Mara Bovsun 

Monk in His Early Criminal Career

Doctors at the New York National Guard recruiting station were aghast that day in October 1917 when one volunteer in the eager crowd stripped to reveal a body that looked like it had already faced down the Germans and lost. 

Razor, knife, and bullet scars began at his ankles, ran up to his barrel chest and crisscrossed his neck and face. Decorating his belly were souvenirs of two slugs that had ripped through him years earlier, leaving wounds he had plugged with his fingers while dragging himself to the hospital. His nose had been mashed. On each side of his head, where most people have ears, dangled two shreds of flesh. What battles had this man been in? the doctors wondered. 

"Oh, just a lot of little private wars around New York," William Delaney replied offhandedly. Scars aside, the body looked pretty sturdy, so they let him sign up. 

Thus began the soul cleansing of William Delaney, real name Edward Osterman, otherwise known as Monk Eastman, the terror of the Lower East Side. 

In his glory, Monk had commanded an army of 1,200 of the city's meanest thugs, a grimy bunch of safe crackers, pickpockets, and general ruffians from dangerous dives with names like The Flea Bag, The Bucket of Blood, and Suicide Hall. The Eastman gang had turned the area between the Bowery and 14th St. into a no man's land, pocked by brawls with such rivals as the Yakey Yakes, the Red Onions, and Paul Kelly's fearsome Five Pointers. 

These gangs grew out of the dirt-poor Jewish, Italian, and Irish immigrants who flooded into New York in the late 19th century, for whom a life of crime was often the only alternative to starvation. Monk himself, it happened, was the son of a prosperous Brooklyn deli man, and initially Papa had tried hard to steer young Edward along a righteous path, setting him up as a dealer in puppies, pigeons, and kitties. But the lad found different work for himself, dance hall bouncer, and a new name, the Monk, in honor of his simian ability to climb walls and swing through windows. 

He never abandoned his pets. He was usually seen strolling about with a huge blue pigeon on his shoulder and a couple of cats tucked under his massive arms. Anyone he found being cruel to animals got a severe drubbing. "I like de kits and boids," Monk said. 

Otherwise, what he carried were clubs, blackjacks, and brass knuckles. Early in his career, he inflicted so many injuries that ambulance drivers dubbed Bellevue's accident ward the Eastman Pavilion. These talents were noticed by Tammany Hall, and soon Monk and his gang of Jewish toughs were Election Day fixtures, voting for their candidates two, three, four, or more times and suggesting to other voters that perhaps it would be healthy for them to vote the same way. 

Such a valuable man as Monk had powerful friends, and he was routinely released just as soon as he was arrested. This left him free to attend to the business of his hood-for-hire operation, which efficiently offered head whackings or ear chewings for $15, stabbings for $25, and more serious forms of mayhem for $100. 

But, in the summer of 1903, the terrifying Battle of Rivington St. was too much even for Tammany. Three men died as 100 gangsters, "in true Western style," the New York Herald reported, "fought through 2 miles of streets for five hours in defiance of the police until a square mile of territory was panic-stricken." When Monk was arrested again, in April 1904, after he fired a dozen shots at a Pinkerton detective, no Tammany lawyer showed up to help him, and off he went to Sing Sing for ten years. 

By the time he came out, most of his old gang was gone and there were no battles left for him to fight. Except for the Great War. 

At 44, he became a Doughboy, fighting in the fields of France with the 106th Infantry of the 27th Division, "O'Ryan's Roughnecks." There, in the trenches, the Monk was transformed. The hoodlum became a hero. 

The 27th Division Victory Parade in New York City
Insert: Pvt. Edward "Monk" Eastman, 106th Infantry

There were dozens of stories of his valor. Here was Monk, galloping across wasteland to rescue a wounded comrade. Here was Monk, leaping from crater to crater to wipe out nests of machine gunners. Here was Monk, badly wounded, insisting upon leaving his hospital bed to rejoin his unit. 

When he came home in April 1919, the men he had served with rallied behind him. The newspapers told of his redemption, holding him out as proof that even the most wretched can be saved. MONK EASTMAN WINS NEW SOUL, trumpeted the Tribune. OFFICERS AND HUNDREDS OF SOLDIERS WHO FOUGHT WITH HIM ASK GOVERNOR TO MAKE HIM CITIZEN AGAIN. 

So it was that the Monk — citizenship restored, head high — marched on Fifth Ave. with other war heroes, cheered by the good people of New York who had once quaked at the mention of his name. 

Two days after Christmas 1920, the headline in the Daily News was EX-CONVICT, WAR HERO, SHOT DEAD. There were five bullets in Monk Eastman. A shady Prohibition agent named Jerry Bohan, who had been drinking with Monk in an East Side dive called the Blue Bird, was quickly charged with the killing. He claimed self-defense, and there was much press speculation as to how genuine Monk's celebrated rehabilitation really was. 

But the dead man's buddies from the 106th would hear none of this. Hank Miller and John Boland, two men who had fought alongside Monk, put up funds for a military burial. "Mr. Edward Eastman did more for America than presidents and generals," Boland announced. "The public does not reward its heroes. Now they are calling Mr. Eastman a gangster instead of praising him as one of those who saved America. But we'll do the right thing by this soldier and give him the funeral he deserves." 

On an overcast, freezing morning three days before New Year's, 4,000 mourners—soldiers, women, children, blubbering old gangsters—showed up to send Monk off. Monk was dressed in full military regalia, wearing his service stripes and American Legion pin. On his shining black coffin was a silver plate inscribed "Our Lost Pal. Gone But Not Forgotten." 

Good-bye, Old Pal! Monk's Buddies Bid Him Adieu.
The NYPD Escort Is a Nice Touch, No?

After 12 hours of a whisky-washed wake, the flag-draped coffin was borne on the shoulders of eight uniformed veterans to a waiting hearse at the Williamsburg Bridge Plaza. A double line of 24 buddies formed an honor guard. A procession of six polished black cars and 20 horse-drawn carriages joined the parade to the military plot at Brooklyn's Cypress Hills Cemetery. At graveside there was a 21-gun salute, and a bugler sounded taps as Monk's coffin was lowered into the ground. 

A few days later, a grief-stricken crook named Edward Herberger journeyed in from Philadelphia to avenge his pal. With Bohan in jail, Herberger found no one to shoot, so he did the next best thing. He stuck up a gin mill and made off with $2,000. When Philly cops arrested him, they found, along with opium and safe cracking tools, a photo of Monk Eastman draped in black. 

This article originally appeared as part of the New York Daily News "Big Town Biography" series edited by Jay Maeder. It is reprinted here with permission. We originally presented this article at our Doughboy Center Website.

Goodbye Campaign Hat, Hello Overseas Cap

Most of the Doughboys who went "Over There" in the First World War were wearing  the 1911 Campaign Hat (or the 1912 Marine Corps version) with its distinctive "Montana Peak" when they departed.  The Campaign Hat was issued by the U.S. Army for general use for three decades, right up to the early days of World War II.  Check out  From Here to Eternity  on Netflix if you would like to see its later use.  

The Campaign Hat Associated with the Doughboys

However, if you look at photos of Doughboys in France during the last stages of the war, you will see that, if they are not wearing a helmet, they're wearing a flat, foldable cap that sits on their heads like an envelope.  Their felt broad-brimmed campaign hats had been taken from them and cut up for other uses such as slippers for hospital patients. The Campaign Hat had become a major storage problem for the AEF.

In 1918 the Army decided that Doughboys serving in France needed headgear that was comfortable to wear, yet could be stored in the pocket when the helmet was donned. The solution was an an Americanized version of the fatigue cap issued to the French Poilus. Since the boys were overseas, it was given the name "Overseas Cap."  The troops, as is their habit, also gave it their own nicknames, one of which that is still X-rated and naturally enough stayed popular with the troops of all services throughout the 20th century. In 1940 the cap was authorized for wear in the U.S. and was officially renamed the "Garrison Cap."

In 1918, three different versions of the overseas cap were issued. It is not uncommon to see photos of units with individuals [un-uniformly] wearing each of the styles. These caps allow one, though, to interpret shipboard photos of the Doughboys. If the men are wearing campaign hats, they are on their way to France or just arrived. If they are wearing overseas caps, they are on their way home.

Correction to the above:  I have confirmed what one of our commentators has pointed out — that the troops in the late embarkation rush in mid-1918 were issued overseas caps before they left the States for Europe. 

Verdun Air War Remembered at the Paris (Le Bourget) Air Musée

The Musée de l’Air et de l’Espace located at Le Bourget airport in Paris opened a new exhibition in October focused on the air war during the Battle of Verdun, the First World War’s longest engagement.  It will run until 29 January 2017.  Here are some photos of the exhibits.

The Venue

Nieuport 11 That Played a Key Role in the Verdun Air War

French Ace Jean Navarre Flew Over Verdun

Gallery

Flying Gear Display

Zeppelin Damage in the French Rear Area

Before Sarajevo There Was Albania

Albanian Declaration of Independence in Vlorë, 1912

Out of the settlement of the Balkan Wars of 1912 & 1913 evolved a decision by the Great Powers that a buffer state—Albania—would be created along the Adriatic Sea. This would trigger a test of national wills that was remembered with  bitterness by decision makers later, during the July Crisis of 1914.  Albania had proclaimed its independence in November 1912, and the new nation was recognized by the Conference of London on 29 July 1913. Albania's political function was to allow Serbia—–the big winner of the recent wars—–to have some commercial access to the ocean, while preventing it from developing naval facilities in the Adriatic that would threaten the sole Austro-Hungarian water access. 

Serbia, however, was never happy with the arrangement and kept troops and guerrillas active in Albania, while negotiating with friendly Balkan neighbors to divide Albanians among themselves. The Albanians, who were not happy about the settlement imposed on them either, were determined to resist the Serbian incursions. Matters came to a head in October 1913 after the hawks in Vienna, led by Chief of Staff Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, convinced Foreign Minister Count Leopold Berchtold that a firm stand against Serbia over Albania was needed. 

Newspaper Headline, 26 September 1913

In September Berchtold's representative in Belgrade confronted the Serbians, who simply lied and said they were totally withdrawing their troops from Albania. They only shifted them around a bit. Soon the deception was discovered and the Austrians decided to up the ante. Chronologically, this is what ensued in October 1913:

3 October: The government of Austria-Hungary passed a bill increasing the size of its army to 600,000 men, and authorizing an army of 2,000,000 men in the event of war. This followed the army expansions of the other powers discussed in the August issue of the Trip-Wire. The timing of the expansion, however, also served the purpose of sending a clear military signal to the Serbians. 

16 October: The Albanians stirred the diplomatic pot themselves, when one faction decided to declare its own "Republic of Central Albania." This, of course, alarmed the Austrians further. (This new state was disbanded three months later after pressure from the big powers determined to calm down the Balkans.) 

18 October: Acting solely on its own, Austria-Hungary issued an ultimatum to Serbia demanding that Serbian troops be withdrawn within eight days from the territory set aside for Albania by the Great Powers. Not even Germany was consulted before the ultimatum. Arthur Zimmermann, then deputy foreign minister of Germany told the British ambassador to Berlin that the Germans had been surprised by Austria's ultimatum as a policy that "might lead to serious consequences" but added that "restraining advice to Vienna on the part of Germany was out of the question." 

25 October: One day before the expiration of the eight-day ultimatum given by Austria-Hungary on 18 October, Serbian troops withdrew from Albania. The crisis seems to have passed, but—as we know—not really. 

In hindsight, what are the lessons here? First, by October 1913 the Great Powers were not unified. Not even Germany and Austria-Hungary were being candid with one another. Second, Russia was once again embarrassed by a Slavic client (as the Russians perceived things), while appearing to be ineffectual in dealing with a crisis in its sphere of influence. Last, Serbia and Austria-Hungary, indeed, had irreconcilable differences and were willing to fight over them regardless of the consequences. 

Sources: Mtholyoke.edu; Mentalfloss.com; Wikipedia

A Roads Classic: Remembering the World War I Veterans of Pearl Harbor

Crew and Officers, USS Oklahoma, 1917

Today, on the anniversary of the Day of Infamy, let's look at the ships of the Pacific Fleet that served in the Great War. Of the ships damaged or sunk, three served overseas in Battleship Squadron 6–the second group of battleships deployed to the war zone. (The other was Squadron 9, deployed with the Grand Fleet.)

The three ships of Squadron 6 at Pearl Harbor were the USS Utah (by then converted to a gunnery ship), the USS Oklahoma, and the USS Nevada. The ships' mission was to escort convoys across the Atlantic. After the Armistice they helped welcome President Wilson to the Paris conference and were present at the surrender of Germany's High Seas Fleet. Here are each of the three ships and a little information about them:

USS Utah (BB-31/AG-16)

USS Utah on Station, Bantry Bay, Ireland, 1918

Utah Being Refloated After the Attack

In the first minutes of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, the ship was hit by two torpedoes, which caused serious flooding. Utah quickly rolled over and sank; the vast majority of her crew were able to escape, but 64 men were killed in the attack. The wreck remains in the harbor, and in 1972 a memorial was erected near the ship.

USS Oklahoma (BB-37)

USS Oklahoma, Berehaven Harbor, Ireland, 1918

Oklahoma Capsized Next to USS Maryland, Which Suffered Minimal Damage

On 7 December 1941, a total of 429 crew died when the USS Oklahoma capsized and sunk on Battleship Row after being struck by several bombs and torpedoes during the Japanese attack. Most of the battleships that were recovered after Pearl Harbor were able to be salvaged and return to duty. But not the USS Oklahoma. She was too damaged and was eventually stripped of her remaining armaments and superstructure before being sold for scrap in 1946 but was lost at sea in transit to the Pacific coast.

USS Nevada (BB-36)

BB-36 in Three Configurations: Original/WWI, 
Interwar Modernization, Post-Pearl Harbor WWII

The Only Battleship to Get Under Way on 7 December, Nevada's Captain Was Ordered
to Run the Ship Aground to Avoid Blocking the Main Channel

Of the three veterans of Squadron 6, USS Nevada was the only ship to survive the attack and the only battleship of the Pacific Fleet to attempt to get to sea. Over the course of the morning, Nevada suffered a total of 60 killed and 109 wounded It was repaired within a year. Nevada served as a convoy escort in the Atlantic and as a fire-support ship in four amphibious assaults: the Normandy landings and the invasions of Southern France, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa. After the war, deemed obsolete, the Nevada suffered the indignity of being designated a target ship for atomic bomb tests. However, after surviving a blast at Bikini Atoll, the ship was more fittingly sunk by naval gunfire.

Engineer Officer Donald Ross, USS Nevada,  Receiving the 
Medal of Honor for His Service on 7 December

Don Ross played a critical role in getting the Nevada's engines working that day. Your editor had the good fortune of chatting with him in the 1980s over a cup off coffee on a Puget Sound ferry. As we returned to our cars, I noticed his license plate was a special State of Washington issue with a Medal of Honor designation. I later looked up his citation and this is what it says:

For distinguished conduct in the line of his profession, extraordinary courage and disregard of his own life during the attack on the Fleet in Pearl Harbor, Territory of Hawaii, by Japanese forces on 7 December 1941. When his station in the forward dynamo room of the U.S.S. Nevada became almost untenable due to smoke, steam, and heat, Machinist Ross forced his men to leave that station and performed all the duties himself until blinded and unconscious. Upon being rescued and resuscitated, he returned and secured the forward dynamo room and proceeded to the after dynamo room where he was later again rendered unconscious by exhaustion. Again recovering consciousness he returned to his station where he remained until directed to abandon it.

Wales and World War One reviewed by Bryan Alexander

Wales and World War One

by Robin Barlow

Gomer Press, 2014

Many histories of the First World War have focused on military campaigns, grand strategy, or personal experience. Recent historiography has led us to focus on what we might call medium-level WWI history, studying communities, regions, or small nations during that titanic struggle.

Robin Barlow's book is a good example, focusing on the experience of Wales, one former nation incorporated within the United Kingdom. Barlow assumes the reader has at least a baseline familiarity with WWI's events and zeroes in on the ways this very small country participated in and reacted to the events of 1914–1918.

Wales and World War One begins by exploring how Wales dove into the war, including the formation of Welsh units and the vexed question of popular support. Next Barlow shows us examples of the Welsh at war, offering incidents from Gallipoli and the Somme. The second half of the book cuts across the national experience, examining reactions of writers; the changing role of women; pacifists and opposition to the war; religion; conscription; and punishment.

I found the book very illuminating, appropriately filled with local details. We learn of the appeal of the invasion of Belgium to the Welsh, as a similarly small country, along with the difficult politics of appealing to Welsh speakers by using that language (difficult in an era often hostile to local languages). There is, of course, the politics of Wales within Britain. Kitchener at one point snarled that "no purely Welsh regiment is to be trusted; they are...always wild & insubordinate and ought to be stiffened by a strong infusion of English or Scotch" (44). Local tribunals were apparently relatively generous to some anti-war protestors (Ch 8). And Barlow reminds us that Britain's ultimate war leader, Lloyd George, was Welsh, nicknamed "the Welsh Wizard" (191).

Through this book, I learned more about Wales and some of its unusual cultural details. Wales has long hosted a storytelling festival, the National Eisteddfod, and Barlow shows how that event initially celebrated the nation's entry into war. Yet one of the Eisteddfod's great bards, Hedd Wyn, was killed in France in 1917, and the festival turned to memorializing his death. Welsh religion, especially its Nonconformist branch, was initially skeptical of the war, but changed to support it (Ch 12).

Click on Image to Enlarge

Mametz Wood, Somme Sector, with Welsh Dragon Memorial in Foreground
Assaulted by 38th Welsh Division, July 1916

Some of the local details share continuity with the broader British or even Entente experience. Barlow shows that Welsh troops were sometimes mustered in 1914 without appropriate uniforms and materials (52). The deaths of a large number of Welsh soldiers had powerful effects back home, especially when they were part of the Pals battalions. The behavior of Welsh troops in one battle, Mametz Wood in the Somme campaign, was and remains controversial, with dueling accusations of heroism and cowardice (82ff). Britain's eventual reliance on conscription, rather than volunteerism, "calls into question the portrait of a unified nation, eager to enlist" in Wales, as it did in Canada and elsewhere (138). Later in the war London nationalized Welsh coal mines (186), echoing the national industrial policy we saw elsewhere, as in the United States. Religion played an "ambiguous" role in the Welsh war experience, with faith driving many to fight, while also providing a structure for opposing the war (ch. 12).

Poster for Fund Raising Event

Socialist politics tangled with the politics of nationalism and empire, sometimes violently (131). While we don't learn of any Welsh Soviets, we do read of a daring and controversial coal strike in 1915 (182ff). Indeed, the Welsh economy was thrown into rapid successions of booms and busts, depending on spikes or cuts in war's demands on products and workers.

Barlow writes with clarity and attention to detail. His tone is usually calm but sometimes veers into passion. For example, three hours into his first engagement in battle Hedd Wyn was mortally wounded, struck in the chest by a fragment of shrapnel; he was one of 31,000 to die in the battle. In his diary, Field Marshal Douglas Haig described 31 July 1917 as "a fine day's work" (150). Barlow also admirably quotes and cites a great deal of Welsh language throughout the book; equally admirably, he translates those passages.

Visually, Wales and World War One is amply illustrated with photographs, posters, and cartoons. It is to be recommended for readers of Welsh history, of course, and additionally it's a useful book for WWI students looking to understand history at a medium level.

Bryan Alexander

100 Years Ago: Bucharest Falls

By Matt Church

Ferdinand, King of Romania, During the War

On 5 December 1916, the Romanian capital of Bucharest fell to enemy forces and effectively brought an end to Romania's disastrous participation in the First World War. Romania remained neutral in the early stages of the war, only to find itself assailed by German, Bulgarian, Austro-Hungarian, and Ottoman forces by the end of 1916. The main Romanian national interest was in Hapsburg-controlled Transylvania, home to three million Romanians. Allied success would begin the process that led to the decimation of the Romanian Army. The success of the Brusilov offensive made Romania more inclined to accept Allied territorial offerings in return for participation. On 17 August 1916, France and Russia agreed to reward Romania with Transylvania, the Bukovina, the southern tract of Galicia, and the Barat after the peace treaty in return for their participation on the Allied side (Keegan, 2000). The strategic situation for Romania was precarious and they were surrounded by enemy forces on three sides; nonetheless, they entered the war on 27 August 1916. 

Bolstered by their performance in the Second Balkan War and confident of the Russian Army checking the German and Austro-Hungarian forces, the Romanians overestimated the potential of their 23-division army. The Romanian Army paid scant attention to the threat of Bulgarian or Ottoman attacks. Russian commander-in-chief Alexeyev believed Romanian participation to be more of a hindrance than asset; he would be proven correct. While Allied forces attempted a diversionary attack at Salonika, the Romanian Army invaded the Austro-Hungarian Empire through the passes of the Transylvanian Alps and occupied Eastern Transylvania (Keegan, 2000). Allied commanders had expected the Romanians to attack Bulgaria. This would be the high point of Romanian participation in the war. 

Romanian Forces Abandon the City

While Romanian forces did nothing after their initial success, German, Austro-Hungarian, and Bulgarian forces prepared a counterattack. Austro-Hungarian local defense forces were quickly organized into the First Army to oppose the Romanians and on 2 September, Bulgarian forces invaded the Romanian province of the Dobruja. On 25 September, German forces under Falkenhayan began to drive the Romanians back through the Transylvanian passes. Part of this German force was composed of the Alpenkorps and included the young Erwin Rommel. After driving the Romanian army through the Transylvanian passes, German forces continued to force the Romanians toward the central plains of Romania and toward Bucharest. By late 1916, German and Austro-Hungarian forces were assailing the Romanian Army and driving them further into their own borders while Bulgarian and Ottoman forces were in the Dobruja province, the Ottomans having taken the sea route to assist in the assault. On 5 December 1916, Mackensen's German forces crossed the Danube and took Bucharest, and the Romanians retreated to Moldavia and entrenched themselves between the Sereth River and Russian border. 

German Troops Occupy Bucharest

The Romanian decision to enter the war was disastrous. By the end of 1916, they had lost 310,000 men, nearly half as prisoners, and almost the whole of their country (Keegan, 1916). Their defeat also left Germany in control of the Ploesti oilfields, the only source of European oil west of the Black Sea. Germany gained one million tons of oil and two million tons of grain through their defeat of Romania, and these gains would help continue the German war effort into 1918. Not only did their victory yield material gains, but the German victory also necessitated the diversion of Russian forces to rescue the Romanian Army. The results of the Allied recruitment of Romania did not prove a benefit to the Allied cause, but actually diminished allied strength and forced a diversion of resources. Romania's decision became their folly. 

Sassoon on the Armistice

 In his autobiography, Siegfried’s Journey, Sassoon gives an account of the writing of this poem:

"One evening in the middle of April I had an experience which seems worth describing for those who are interested in methods of poetic production. It was a sultry spring night. I was feeling dull-minded and depressed, for no assignable reason. After sitting lethargically in the ground-floor room for about three hours after dinner, I came to the conclusion that there was nothing for it but to take my useless brain to bed. On my way from the arm-chair to the door I stood by the writing-table. A few words floated into my head as though from nowhere. In those days I was always on the look-out for a lyric — I wish I could say the same for my present self — so I picked up a pencil and wrote the words on a sheet of note-paper. Without sitting down, I added a second line. It was if I were remembering rather than thinking. In this mindless manner I wrote down my poem in a few minutes. When it was finished I read it through, with no sense of elation, merely wondering how I had come to be writing a poem when feeling so stupid." (140)

Everyone Sang 

by Siegfried Sassoon

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;

And I was filled with such delight

As prisoned birds must find in freedom,

Winging wildly across the white

Orchards and dark-green fields; on - on - and out of sight.

Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted;

And beauty came like the setting sun:

My heart was shaken with tears; and horror

Drifted away ... O, but Everyone

Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

Source: www.arabesques-editions.com/

The Kaiser's Enthusiasms

My friend, historian and novelist Thomas Fleming, once pointed out that at his desk, the Kaiser sat in a saddle because it made him feel like a warrior. In this prewar photo that perfectly captures the Kaiser's militaristic enthusiasms, he is inspecting a Guards detachment, probably at Potsdam. As Wilhelm marches past, each of the soldier's heads snaps forward from the "eyes-right" position. Like their British equivalents, the "Old Contemptibles," most of these men were probably killed or wounded in the coming war. 

In November 1908, British foreign minister Sir Edward Grey perfectly captured in words this same disposition of Germany's ruler and foresaw its consequences:

[The Kaiser] is like a battleship with steam up and screws going, but with no rudder, and he will run into something some day and cause a catastrophe. He has the strongest army in the world and the Germans don't like being laughed at and are looking for somebody on whom to vent their temper and use their strength...Now it is 38 years since Germany had her last war, and she is very strong and very restless, like a person whose boots are too small for him. I don't think there will be war at present, but it will be difficult to keep the peace of Europe for another five years.

After the Armistice: The Doughboys Turn to Verse

The Doughboys' newspaper, STARS AND STRIPES, welcomed poetry contributions from the troops. After the Armistice, entries came flooding in since the boys no longer need to worry about surviving on the battlefield. All that made the paper were almost uniformly more doggerel than fine poetry and the sort of verse fans of Wilfred Owen and Isaac Rosenberg might toss aside as being laughably sentimental. Nevertheless, they seem to capture something about the American experience in the war.  Here are three I like.  

Chow Time: Possibly Eating Corned Beef (Willie)

WILLIE

O compound of wrecked flesh, rent and torn asunder, 
How do we e'er digest thy potency, I wonder – 
Cold, killed cattle pounded into paste, 
Pressed into tins and shipped to us in haste. 

Greedily we eat thee, hot or cold or clammish, 
How welcomely thou thuddest in the mess tins of 
  the famished. 
O leavings of a jackal's feast, O carrion sublime, 
No matter how we scoff at thee, we eat thee 
  every time. 

Ah, CORNED WILLIE. 

Sgt. H.W. White
Stars and Stripes, 1919

Saying Farewell to a Buddy

Goodbye, Old Pal

Goodbye, old Pal,
I've been to hell and back
    again;
There's where you fell,
    in mud, in blood, and rain.
Sure, we won –
    you paid the bill;
You swapped your life for
     that green hill;
Goodbye, old Pal.

Goodbye, old Pal.
We're sailing home,
     our job is done;
But still your grave's a trench
     against the Hun.

Call us back;
     we'll make our stand
Where you keep guard
      in No Man's Land.

Goodbye, old Pal.


Anonymous
Stars and Stripes, 1919

A Party of Wounded Doughboys Departing St. Nazaire for Home

The Song of St. Nazaire [Abridged]

Hurry on, you doughboys, with your rifle and your pack;
Bring along your cooties with your junk upon your back;
We'll house you and delouse you and we'll douse you in a bath,
And when the boat is ready you can take the Western Path...

For it's home, kid, home – when the breakers rise and fall – 
Where the khaki's hanging from a nail against the wall – 
Clean again and cheerful there – 
Handin out an ear full there – 
Where you never have to jump at the bugle's call.


Lt. Grantland Rice [Yes, the sportswriter]
Stars and Stripes, 1919

Tennessee, USA, in the Great War

By Margaret Ripley Wolfe , East Tennessee State University
From  the Tennessee Encyclopedia of History and Culture

Soldiers from Jackson, Tennessee, Marching To War

During the interlude marked by the end of the depression of the 1890s and the entry of the United States into the First World War in 1917, Tennesseans as well as other Americans entered the 20th century. Embracing reformism at home and imperialism abroad, Americans of this era, on the domestic front and in foreign affairs, set the nation's future course. This was Progressivism at high tide, but the philosophy that shaped it and the ideas that undergirded it spilled over at either end of its loosely established chronological boundaries. Correcting the ills of an American society struggling to make the transition from a rural past to an urban future, Tennesseans as well as other Americans concentrated on domestic issues while international relations commanded less attention. By 1917, however, ominous developments overseas could no longer be ignored.

The faraway assassination of the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo and the chain of events it set in motion, culminating with World War I, eventually reached into the rural communities and remote villages of the Volunteer State. Tennesseans shifted their attention from politics and prohibition to foreign affairs and distant battlegrounds. The principal European nations had been engaged in military conflict since 1914, but the United States managed to avoid direct involvement until 1917. Violations of American neutrality, sympathy for Britain and France, based largely on strong cultural and historic ties, the diplomatic blunderings of the Germans, and economic considerations congealed, and President Woodrow Wilson, a pacifist at heart, led his country into the first global war of the 20th century.

During the Progressive era, as local and regional economies gave way to the national and international organizational structure of corporate America, a pronounced alteration in federal-state relations occurred. The creation of the National Guard, which swallowed up the old state militia units, represents a case in point. Although the militia could be called up to keep the peace at the local level or to resist a foreign invasion, it was not until after the Spanish-American War that the militia had a permanent place in the federal military. Congress, between 1900 and 1903, routinely approved appropriations for the militia, providing federal money to outfit units of citizen soldiers. With the passage of the Dick Act on 21 January 1903, the U.S. government officially established an organized militia that could be called into the service as a part of the regular army.

Between 1903 and 1916, other congressional legislation tied the state units even more securely to the federal government. The National Defense Act of 1916, which was intended to prepare the nation's military forces for the possibility of involvement in World War I, represented the capstone for those who had actively sought the integration of the militia into the regular army. It specified that the state units, designated as the National Guard, would pass under complete federal control in time of war or grave public emergency as determined by the commander-in-chief. Shortly after the enactment of this legislation, with revolutionary upheaval in Mexico and chaos along the border, President Wilson ordered the National Guard into federal service. The initial call-up included almost 2,000 Tennesseans, but subsequent enlistments increased the numbers in the mobilization camp at Nashville by another thousand.

30th Division Sniper in Flanders, July 1918

Tennessee National Guardsmen, many of whom probably still considered themselves state militiamen, made no secret of their homesickness and general dissatisfaction when they arrived in the Southwest. Both the First and the Third Regiments saw duty on the border as did three troops of cavalry and hospital and ambulance detachments. The Tennessee delegation in Congress and Governor Tom C. Rye lobbied unsuccessfully for the return of the troops by Christmas. War Department plans prevailed, the U.S. Army maintained control of the Tennessee National Guardsmen, and the last of them did not come home and muster out of federal service until 24 March 1917. Two weeks later, on 6 April, the United States formally entered World War I. Six days thereafter, the War Department placed elements of the Tennessee National Guard on active duty; others were called up later.

When the war broke out, a relatively small number of Tennesseans already served in the peacetime armed forces, but the activation of the Guard affected hundreds of Tennesseans; still others joined of their own volition. Nevertheless, the Selective Service, commonly known as the draft, provided the greatest number of men from the Volunteer State. Both the North and the South had used the draft during the Civil War, but this marked the first time that the federal government had conscripted Tennessee civilians. The Selective Service Act of 18 May 1917, specified that military and naval forces should be recruited by lot from among adult males between the ages of 21 and 30, later expanded to 18 and 45.

Governor Rye named Major Rutledge Smith of Putnam County, who had been heading up the Tennessee Council of Defense, to direct the state's Selective Service System. Three registrations occurred on 5 June 1917, 14 December 1917, and 24 August 1918, respectively. A total of 474,347 men reported to the Selective Service, 368,242 of whom actually completed the classification process. The nation eventually drafted 61,069 Tennesseans (43,730 whites and 17,339 blacks), according to figures given in Stanley J. Folmsbee et al., History of Tennessee (1960). Camp Gordon, Georgia, welcomed many of these hastily created soldiers into federal service. Military and naval authorities had implemented a policy that prevented large groups of men from a single state from serving in any one division overseas. Nonetheless, the Thirtieth Division, nicknamed the Old Hickory Division in honor of Andrew Jackson, was made up of troops mostly from Tennessee, North Carolina, and South Carolina. The Thirtieth trained at Camp Sevier, South Carolina, prior to service in Europe. Elements of the Thirtieth Division played a major, perhaps even decisive, role in breaking through the famous Hindenburg Line.

Most Tennesseans in the military served in the infantry, but others entered the Marine Corps, the Army Air Corps, and the U.S. Navy. Indeed, Admiral Albert Gleaves (1858–1937) of Nashville, one of the most notable sailors of this era from the landlocked Volunteer State, commanded the United States Navy Cruiser and Transport Force, which had the responsibility of convoying American and Allied troops to the Continent. In 1919 Gleaves was commander-in-chief of the Asiatic Fleet. He held the Distinguished Service Medal and the French Legion of Honor. Another Tennessean, Admiral William Banks Caperton (1855–1941) of Spring Hill became commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet during 1916 and subsequently was involved in naval operations in the South Atlantic. World War I also featured daring young men in their flying machines, and Tennessee claimed several, among them Lieutenant Edward Buford of Nashville. Two other aviators, Lieutenant Claude O. Lowe and Lieutenant McGhee Tyson, lost their lives in the line of duty. Yet another Tennessean, Colonel Luke Lea, staged one of the most colorful escapades of World War I, leading what American Expeditionary Commander John J. Pershing officially labeled "an amazingly indiscreet" raid into Holland in a futile attempt to capture the exiled German Kaiser Wilhelm II and bring him to justice.

The most celebrated common soldier of World War I — a Tennessean — hailed from Fentress County in the Upper Cumberlands. Of humble origin, Alvin C. York had little formal education and as a young man had indulged in the not uncommon vices of drinking, gambling, and brawling. After religious conversion in 1915, he became a devout fundamentalist Christian who opposed war and violence. After struggling with his convictions, he was drafted and later assigned to the 82nd Division of the 328th Infantry Regiment, where he won international acclaim for his single-handed shoot-out with a German machine gun battalion in the Argonne Forest. York purportedly killed 25 Germans, captured 132 prisoners, and silenced 35 machine guns, a feat which earned him a promotion to sergeant and won him the Congressional Medal of Honor.

A Supply Tanks Supporting the 30th Division Assault on the Hindenburg Line

As warfare siphoned manpower out of Tennessee, it poured dollars into the Volunteer State. The U.S. Army Signal Corps Aviation Section, for example, established an aviation school near Millington in Shelby County. On 30 November 1917, the first 30 students arrived from the University of Illinois; three days later, another 75 from Princeton joined them. Most of the would-be pilots were college graduates. Student aviators trained in the JN4, known as the "Jenny", a biplane that carried two passengers. The plane featured a Curtiss OX-5 engine, a wooden propeller, and fabric covering. Park Field, the WWI training facility, not only contributed to the economy of Memphis and Millington at the time but continues to do so today, having become in 1942 the site of the Naval Reserve Aviation Base, the forerunner for the Naval Air Technical Training Command presently located in Shelby County.

The World War I era also gave rise to the "war babies" in various locations around the state —industries that owed their existence to the defense effort and either ceased to exist or went into major retrenchment when the armistice came. Numerous small factories producing war materiel made their short-lived appearances. The most important facility of these years was the powder plant at Hadley's Bend — later called Old Hickory — on the Cumberland River near Nashville. It cost $80 million to construct, and E. I. DuPont de Nemours Company operated it. The project brought 20,000 new workers to the Nashville area and caused a crisis in housing and transportation.

On the home front, state residents responded to the patriotic fervor of the times and organized for victory. Cooperating fully with the national government, the Tennessee State Council of Defense modeled itself after the National Council of Defense. Every county had its own council as did some 6,000–7,000 communities. Home Guards kept a watchful vigil over railroad trestles and bridges ,although saboteurs seemed to have posed no serious threat. Newspaper editors across the state rallied to promote patriotism, and nearly every county claimed "Four-Minute Men", so called because they could deliver brief, enthusiastic orations in support of the war effort. The wonders performed by the federal food and fuel administrations and their state counterparts, which encouraged and fostered voluntary conservation of precious commodities, warded off rationing. Dr. Harcourt A. Morgan, dean of the College of Agriculture of the University of Tennessee, directed the Tennessee Food Administration. Meanwhile, public officials urged farmers to grow more crops and property owners to set aside vacant lots in urban areas for food production. Educators encouraged high school students to cultivate "victory" gardens.

4-H Club of Oakland, Tennessee, Participate in a Canning Operation
Sponsored by National Food Administration

Historically, warfare has been dominated by men, but armed conflict has always impinged on women's lives as well. Some females from Tennessee entered the armed forces. Many others, black and white, worked in factories or contributed to a variety of private agencies, among them the Young Women's Christian Association, the American Red Cross, and the Tennessee Division and Davidson County Liberty Loan Organizations. The influenza epidemic of 1918–19 inspired some of the most heroic and self-sacrificing service. Women, trained and untrained, nursed the afflicted; others drove cars and ambulances to assist physicians and public health authorities in their efforts to combat the disease. Government officials specifically commended the emergency work of the Motor Corps Department of the Nashville Chapter of the American Red Cross. Approximately 20 million people died worldwide, including more than 500,000 Americans. The undertakers of Nashville as well as other Tennessee towns and communities found it difficult to cope with the victims. Chattanooga, for example, experienced as many as 5,848 civilian deaths by 19 October 1918, and soldiers encamped at nearby Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia, and Chickamauga Park succumbed to influenza as well.

When hostilities ended, the home front prepared to celebrate. Women across the state, particularly in the capital, played a preeminent role in homecoming festivities. They arranged parades, block dances, patriotic tableaux, and banquets. In Middle Tennessee alone, Mrs. W. H. (Betty Lyle) Wilson, a nationally renowned cake-maker, headed a drive for the homecoming dinner that garnered 10,000 cakes. After the Armistice in 1918, the 114th Field Artillery became the first of the large units to return to the state. Traveling by train from Newport News, Virginia, the troops crossed the state line on 29 March 1919. They paraded in Knoxville where more than 30,000 cheering people lined the route. Then the 114th entrained for Nashville and arrived several hours later at a siding adjacent to Centennial Park. In Nashville, when the veterans passed in review, an estimated 100,000 to 250,000 people turned out to greet them. Governor A. H. Roberts delivered a welcoming address. The troops then traveled to Chattanooga where they also received an enthusiastic welcome before being demobilized in Georgia. Other Tennessee soldiers returned to less fanfare, but citizens in towns and cities across the state, from Johnson City to Memphis, officially greeted their returning veterans. At Jackson, a local committee of black citizens planned the largest celebration that they had ever conducted to show their appreciation for the African American soldiers from Madison and adjoining counties.

The Gravesite of Tennessee's Sergeant Alvin C. York and His Wife, Gracie, near Pall Mall

The general assembly voted a bonus for all who had served in the ranks, and the state legislature, city of Nashville, and Davidson County funded the War Memorial Building in the capital. One source indicates that Tennessee furnished as many as 130,915 men and women for the armed forces and suffered 3,836 deaths and 6,190 casualties. The Volunteer State also provided 3,690 officers, 110 of them female nurses. Only 288 individuals registered as conscientious objectors; citations for bravery abounded and the state claimed six Congressional Medal of Honor recipients. Among them was Edward R. Talley of Appalachia, Virginia, who apparently had some Tennessee connections. Four of the other recipients survived the war and claimed residence: Joseph B. Adkinson of Atoka; James E. Karnes of Knoxville; Calvin J. Ward of Morristown; and Alvin C. York of Jamestown. Milo Lemert of Crossville died in service to his country, but his body was retrieved from France for final burial. Citizens of the Volunteer State had also done their share to finance the war. Every loan drive, which involved war bond sales, including the very difficult Victory Loan of 1919, was oversubscribed in Tennessee. In the aftermath of battle, a group of representatives from division and service units of the American Expeditionary Force met in Paris from 15 to 17 March 1919 and organized the American Legion. By August 1919, Memphis Post, No. 1, set out to enlist every discharged soldier, sailor, and Marine, which in Shelby County amounted to an estimated 10,000 men. Other posts soon developed around the state, and ladies' auxiliaries likewise appeared.

Sources: Text from the Tennessee Encyclopedia of History and Culture (LINK); Images from the Tennessee State Archives