British Journal for Military H istory

Transcription

Volume 1, Issue 1, October 2014
British Journal for Military History
BRITISH JOURNAL FOR MILITARY HISTORY
ADVISORY BOARDS
The Editorial Team gratefully acknowledges the support of the British Journal
for Military History’s Editorial Advisory Board the membership of which is as
follows:
Major-General Mungo Melvin (President, BCMH)
Professor Bill Philpott (Secretary-General, BCMH & King’s College London)
Dr Tim Gale (Treasurer, BCMH)
Andy Grainger (Member BCMH)
Dr Andy Simpson (Member BCMH)
Professor Charles Esdaile (University of Liverpool)
Professor Richard Grayson (Goldsmiths, University of London)
Professor Beatrice Heuser (University of Reading)
Professor Matthew Hughes (Brunel University)
Professor Andrew Roberts (Cornell University)
Professor Gary Sheffield (University of Wolverhampton)
Professor Sir Hew Strachan (University of Oxford)
Dr Huw Bennett (University of Aberystwyth)
Dr Huw Davies (JSCSC; King’s College London)
Dr Declan O’Reilly (University of East Anglia)
Jonathan Ferguson (Royal Armouries)
Seb Cox (Air Historical Branch)
Bob Evans (Army Historical Branch)
Stephen Prince (Naval Historical Branch)
COVER IMAGE: COVER IMAGE: Soldier of the Mounted Infantry on his horse 1899
© IWM (Q 72140)
THE BCMH LOGO: The BCMH logo is based on the combination of Mars
& Clio, the Roman God of War and the Greek Muse of History, as a good
summation of what we are about. It depicts Mars with his spear whilst Clio
stands before him reading from a book – or perhaps this journal – the
Secretary General of the BCMH having pointed out that since Mars cannot
read someone will have to read it to him.
CONTACT US
Find us online at: www.bjmh.org.uk
Letters and communications to the Editors should be addressed:
[email protected]
Or
Dr Matthew Ford
Department of International Relations
University of Sussex
Brighton, BN1 9SJ
*
Follow the British Commission for Military History and British Journal for
Military History on:
Facebook [www.facebook.com/bcmh]
Twitter [@marsandclio]
Online [www.bjmh.org.uk]
British Journal for Military History – ISSN: 2057-0422
*
Volume 1, Issue 1
October 2014
Editor-in-Chief: Dr Matthew Ford
Editors:
Dr Nick Terry
Dr Catherine Baker
Associate Editors:
Jennifer Daley
Aimée Fox-Godden
Dr Stuart Mitchell
Published by
The British Commission for Military History
CONTENTS
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
EDITORIAL
Articles
A ONCE IN A CENTURY OPPORTUNITY? SOME PERSONAL
REFLECTIONS ON THE CENTENARY OF THE FIRST WORLD WAR
by Gary Sheffield
1
THE ANNUAL CONFIDENTIAL REPORT AND PROMOTION IN THE
LATE VICTORIAN ARMY
by Ian F. W. Beckett
12
‘SHOOTING POWER’: A STUDY OF THE EFFECTIVENESS OF BOER
AND BRITISH RIFLE FIRE, 1899-1914
by Spencer Jones
29
IRELAND’S NEW MEMORY OF THE FIRST WORLD WAR:
FORGOTTEN ASPECTS OF THE BATTLE OF MESSINES, JUNE 1917
by Richard S. Grayson
48
THE LEGACY OF LIDDELL HART: THE CONTRASTING RESPONSES
OF MICHAEL HOWARD AND ANDRÉ BEAUFRE
by Brian Holden Reid
66
DIVIDED LOYALTIES: THE EFFECT THE BOER WAR AND ITS
AFTERMATH HAD ON HOW IRISH NATIONALISTS INTERPRETERED
THE IRISH SOLDIER SERVING IN THE BRITISH ARMY
by Alan Drumm
81
Reviews
MAX HASTINGS, CATASTROPHE: EUROPE GOES TO WAR 1914
Reviewed by Jonathan Boff
97
THOMAS SCOTLAND & STEVEN HEYS (EDS.), WARS, PESTILENCE AND
THE SURGEON’S BLADE: THE EVOLUTION OF BRITISH MILITARY
MEDICINE AND SURGERY DURING THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Reviewed by Jane Bowden-Dan
98
JAMES HOLLAND (ED.), AN ENGLISHMAN AT WAR. THE WARTIME
DIARIES OF STANLEY CHRISTOPHERSON, DSO, MC, TD, 1939-1945
Reviewed by Robin Brodhurst
100
ALAN TRITTON, WHEN THE TIGER FOUGHT THE THISTLE. THE
TRAGEDY OF COLONEL WILLIAM BAILLIE OF THE MADRAS ARMY
Reviewed by Bruce Collins
103
ANNE APPLEBAUM, IRON CURTAIN: THE CRUSHING OF EASTERN
EUROPE
Reviewed by Timothy C. Dowling
104
TIMOTHY S. WOLTERS, INFORMATION AT SEA: SHIPBOARD COMMAND
AND CONTROL IN THE U.S. NAVY FROM MOBILE BAY TO OKINAWA
Reviewed by Marcus Faulkner
106
THOMAS WALDMAN, WAR, CLAUSEWITZ AND THE TRINITY
Reviewed by Jan Willem Honig
107
PETER KENDALL, THE ROYAL ENGINEERS AT CHATHAM 1750-2012
TIMOTHY CRICK, RAMPARTS OF EMPIRE: THE FORTIFICATIONS OF SIR
WILLIAM JERVOIS ROYAL ENGINEER, 1821-1897
Reviewed by Andrew Lambert
109
HALIK KOCHANSKI, THE EAGLE UNBOWED: POLAND AND POLES IN
THE SECOND WORLD WAR
Reviewed by Simon Niziol
113
ANTHONY J. NOCELLA II, COLIN SALTER & JUDY K. C. BENTLEY
(EDS.), ANIMALS AND WAR: CONFRONTING THE MILITARY-ANIMAL
INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX
Reviewed by Kimberly Brice O’Donnell
115
JIM BEACH, HAIG’S INTELLIGENCE: GHQ AND THE GERMAN ARMY, 19161918
Reviewed by Jack Sheldon
117
JOHN GRODZINSKI, DEFENDER OF CANADA: SIR GEORGE PREVOST AND
THE WAR OF 1812
Reviewed by Ian Stafford
118
Submission Guidelines
ARTICLE SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
121
STYLE GUIDE
122
BOOK REVIEW SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
123
Notes on contributors
PROFESSOR GARY SHEFFIELD is Professor of War Studies at the University of
Wolverhampton. He is President of the International Guild of Battlefield Guides and
a Vice President of the Western Front Association. He has published widely on the
First World War and regularly broadcasts on television and radio as well as
contributing to numerous journals, magazines and newspapers. Previous books
include the acclaimed Forgotten Victory and The Chief: Douglas Haig and the British Army,
which was shortlisted for the prestigious Duke of Westminster's Medal.
PROFESSOR IAN F. W. BECKETT is Professor of Military History at the University
of Kent. A Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, he is also Chairman of the Council
of the Army Records Society, and Secretary to the Buckinghamshire Military Museum
Trust. Previously, he has held chairs in both the UK and the US. Currently, he is
attached to BBC South for the AHRC- funded World War One at Home project
and is coordinating Great War commemorative activities in Buckinghamshire. He is
completing a book on the politics of command in the late Victorian army for the
University of Oklahoma Press.
DR SPENCER JONES is Senior Lecturer in Armed Forces and War Studies at the
University of Wolverhampton. He currently serves at the Regimental Historian for
the Royal Regiment of Artillery. His previous publications include From Boer War to
World War: Tactical Reform of the British Army 1902-1914 and Stemming the
Tide: Officers and Leadership in the British Expeditionary Force 1914.
PROFESSOR RICHARD S. GRAYSON is Professor of Twentieth Century History at
Goldsmiths, University of London. He is the author of Belfast Boys: How Unionists and
Nationalists Fought and Died Together in the First World War (2009), and edited At War
with the 16th Irish Division: The Staniforth Letters, 1914-18 (2012). He has engaged
widely with community groups on First World War remembrance especially the 6th
Connaught Rangers Research Project. An associate member of the First World War
Centenary Committee in Northern Ireland, he contributed to BBC NI’s Ireland’s
Great War, co-edits www.irelandww1.org and chairs the Academic Advisory Group
for the Digital Projects run by the Imperial War Museums.
PROFESSOR BRIAN HOLDEN REID is Professor of American History and Military
Institutions at King’s College London, and since 2010 an Academic Member of
College Council. A former Head of the Department of War Studies (2001-7) in 2007
he was awarded the Fellowship of King’s College London (FKC), the highest honour
the College can award its alumni and staff, and he is both. His books include J.F.C.
Fuller: Military Thinker (1987, 1990), The Origins of the American Civil War (1996),
Studies in British Military Thought (1998), Robert E. Lee: Icon for a Nation (2005, 2007)
and America’s Civil War: The Operational Battlefield, 1861-1863 (2008).
British Journal for Military History, Volume 1, Issue 1, October 2014
ALAN DRUMM is a PhD student under the supervision of Dr Mike Cosgrave at
University College Cork. His thesis examines the relationship between Irish
Nationalism and the British Army between 1880 and 1914 and the impact it had on
recruiting. Alan is the author of Kerry and The Royal Munster Fusiliers and has spoken
at a number of conferences including the British Commission for Military History’s
New Research in Military History Conference 2013, Trinity College Dublin’s Centre
for War Studies Seminar Series 2010-11 and the Irish History Students Association’s
conference in both 2011 and 2012.
Editorial
“The birth of the British Journal for Military History will be as welcome as it
is long overdue.
The past few decades have seen the appearance of a new generation of
military historians. Some have been serving or retired members of the
Armed Forces; some academics or aspiring academics; and some - most
welcome of all – amateurs who write for the sheer love of it. The
continuing demand for their work is evidenced in every major bookshop,
where ‘Military History’ shelves often take up as much space as does mere
‘History’. Even those whose primary interest is not military history as such
now realise that a knowledge of the subject is necessary if they are to
understand the past, to say nothing of the present. Military history is now
too important to be left to the military historians.
For the past few years military historians have been able to communicate
with each another at the annual meetings of the British Commission for
Military History and through its publication Mars and Clio. Now the BJMH
will make their work available to a far wider readership and should attract
an increasing number of contributors. It will be not only British, and not
only military historians who will wish it well."
Professor Sir Michael Howard
We are very pleased to offer you the inaugural issue of the British Journal for
Military History. This journal represents a unique vehicle for distributing high-quality
military history to an audience beyond academia. The BJMH is open-access, applies
peer review policies to all the articles we receive and is published three times a year.
Our first issue showcases some of the journal’s ambitions. Articles consider a
number of topics, ranging from the use and abuse of military history, to military
promotion, shooting power, memory and war, the evolution of strategy and changing
identities. In this edition we not only offer a platform for well-established historians
but also for those new and upcoming authors with whom we wish to develop strong
ties over the long term. Future issues will focus on counterinsurgency, offer a
discussion of women working in military history and have Professors Andrew
Roberts and Charles Esdaile debate whether Napoleon was great.
The BJMH has emerged out of the British Commission for Military History.
Consequently, it is only right that the first article in this edition is based on a lecture
given by Professor Gary Sheffield in memory of Professor Richard Holmes, a former
President of the Commission. The Commission itself has been a great source of
support to this initiative and the Editors are very pleased to offer their thanks to our
fellow members, the General Committee and especially Professor Bill Philpott and
Major General Mungo Melvin.
If the Commission has provided the support then it is the Editorial Advisory Board
that has helped us to develop the sorts of aspirations that frame the journal’s
philosophy. The Board includes some of Britain’s leading military historians,
academics and scholars. These busy people have generously offered guidance and
counsel as the Editors have sought to bring the new journal together from inception
to delivery. Their help has been crucial and we are greatly appreciative of their
backing.
Developing a new journal of course depends on having a great team of editors who
are willing to do the work necessary to ensure the smooth production of each
edition. In this respect all the Editors ought to be thanked for their endeavours over
the past 18 months.
The Associate Editors in particular have taken on serious roles and demonstrated
their ability to rise to the occasion. Jennifer Daley has been instrumental in getting
books reviewed, identifying reviewers and ensuring we have enough material to
publish. Aimée Fox-Godden has shaped the look and feel and the layout for the
journal. Stuart Mitchell has worked extremely hard to check proofs, copy-edit and
act as general fixer.
I must also thank Nick Terry and Catherine Baker for stretching our networks and
reach and providing an appropriate sounding board for ideas and strategy
development. All of the Editors volunteer their time and I hope you will join me in
offering our sincere thanks for all their efforts.
Along the way a number of other people have helped in the evolution of this project.
In particular I would like to thank Dr Philip W Blood, Dr Declan O’Reilly, Ross
Mahoney and George Walkley for their early involvement in helping us think through
the challenges associated with launching a new journal. Lastly, Dr Simon Coningham
very kindly offered his time and the benefit of his experience of working in
mainstream publishing. It is only a shame that he passed away earlier this year and
was unable to see the final product.
The Editors would like to thank Professor Howard for his generous note of support.
Not only do his words encapsulate the philosophy of the journal but we hope they
will also inspire you to join us in broadening and shaping the future of our field of
interest.
Please enjoy this first issue of the BJMH. We welcome your comments and feedback.
DR MATTHEW FORD, EDITOR BJMH
ONCE IN A CENTURY OPPORTUNITY?
A Once in a Century Opportunity? Some
Personal Reflections on the Centenary of the
First World War
GARY SHEFFIELD
University of Wolverhampton
Email: [email protected]
ABSTRACT
In this article Gary Sheffield sets out his opinions on the current
commemoration plans and media responses to the centenary of the First
World War. He argues that the British government and media are letting
slip a golden opportunity to challenge popular perceptions of the conflict.
This piece builds upon the author’s speech delivered at the Richard
Holmes Memorial Lecture, sponsored by the BCMH, King’s College
London, and the National Army Museum, Chelsea. It was delivered at
King’s College London on 13 March 2014.
This paper, and the lecture it is based on, is dedicated to the late Professor Richard
Holmes. Richard was a very talented scholar who nonetheless wore his learning
lightly. In print, in lectures and on battlefield tours, and on the television screen, time
after time he proved himself to be an outstandingly good public historian. Richard’s
death in 2011 deprived him of the opportunity to take a leading role in presenting
the history of the First World War over the period of the Centenary to a mass
audience. Before beginning my own reflections on the centenary, I would like to say
something about Richard’s impact on my career.
I arrived as a very junior lecturer at The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst in 1985,
to find that the then Dr Richard Holmes was Deputy Head of the War Studies
Department. He was kindness personified, taking me under his wing, giving me some
very sound advice about the direction of my career, and helping me steer through
the politics of the organisation. We stayed in touch after he left Sandhurst and in
1999 we linked up again professionally when I moved to the Joint Services Command
and Staff College, and we both taught on the memorable Higher Command and Staff
www.bjmh.org.uk
1
Course staff rides. I learned a very great deal from Richard, not least the importance
of public history. I have been very lucky in the senior colleagues who have helped
guide my career. Richard was one of the most important influences in my
professional life, and I was deeply honoured to be asked to give a lecture in his
memory.
The subject of my lecture and this paper, my reflections on the centenary of the First
World War, is doubly appropriate. First, because Richard Holmes was a masterly
communicator of history to a lay audience; he believed academics should speak to
‘real people’ outside the academy. Second, although Richard wrote on a number of
historical topics (his PhD was on the French army of the Second Empire, and he
published on subjects as diverse as the English Civil War, the American War of
Independence, and French counterinsurgency in the 1950s), he had a fascination for
the First World War. He once admitted that he was 'haunted’ by the conflict.1 The
stands on which Richard led during staff rides to the Somme and Verdun were – even
by his very high standards – especially memorable.
Although the two things are not the same, in 2014 media interest and, as far as I can
judge, public interest in the First World War is at an all-time high. The centenary of
the outbreak of the Great War does seem to have caught the public imagination.
Undoubtedly, there is a once in a hundred years opportunity for education about
1914-18, and education is a primary objective of the government’s First World War
commemoration programme. What follows are a few thoughts on the way we in the
UK are commemorating the war, and the state of knowledge and understanding of
the First World War outside the academy one hundred years on. My perspective is
that of an academic historian of the First World War who has a vocation for public
history, and who has, through public lectures and talks to various bodies,
appearances on television and radio, the use of social media (primarily Twitter), and
high-level engagement with the government, civil service and armed forces, been
closely involved with the Centenary commemorations.
For a historian of the First World War like myself, the sudden national fixation on
1914 had been both dazzling and frustrating. It is dazzling, because of the sudden
huge interest in my subject, and the opportunities that have opened up, not least in
heading the University of Wolverhampton's programme of commemoration.
Frustrating, because the response of the government and the media to the Centenary
leave much to be desired. I have the sense of a golden opportunity for education
about what George F. Kennan called the 'seminal catastrophe of the twentieth
century', and Britain's role in it, slipping away.
1
Richard Holmes, ‘Foreword’ to Gary Sheffield, Forgotten Victory: The First World War – Myths
and Realities (London, Headline, 2001) p.ix
2
The last few years has made clear that, despite the efforts of revisionist historians
over the last three decades, the 'futility/"lions led by donkeys"' narrative of Britain’s
involvement in the conflict is very much with us. The ideas that there were no great
issues at stake during the First World War, that a million men died for nothing and,
in an accompanying myth, the lives of soldiers were routinely thrown away by
criminally incompetent generals has been rebutted over and over again, but display
remarkable longevity. One of the earliest and most influential statements came in the
writings of David Lloyd George, Britain's prime minister in the second half of the war.
His war memoirs, published in the 1930s, are a clear example of the literature of
disillusionment, and Lloyd George was assisted in their writing by a disenchanted war
veteran turned trenchant critic of the generals, Basil Liddell Hart. However this was a
minority view in the 1930s. It began to become the dominant narrative after 1945,
when the First World War started to be viewed through the lens of the 'good war',
the struggle against Hitler. In the 1950s and 1960s a series of popular books, by the
likes of Leon Wolff (In Flanders Fields, 1959 and Alan Clark (The Donkeys, 1961), as
well as Joan Littlewood's musical play Oh! What a Lovely War (first produced in 1963,
and turned into a film by Richard Attenborough in 1969) firmly established the
futility/donkeys narrative in the public mind. Although for the most part worthless as
history, they were extremely influential.
Until the late 1970s a rather lonely revisionist furrow was being ploughed by John
Terraine and his friend and collaborator, Correlli Barnett, and one or two others.
From that point onwards new generations of academic historians provided timely
reinforcements. In the 1980 and 1990s an informal school of revisionist historians of
the British army in the Great War developed, based around the Imperial War
Museum, Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, the British Commission for Military
History and a handful of university departments. The founding in 1980 of the
Western Front Association, an organisation that brings together scholarly historians
and interested lay-people, now with numerous branches and some 6,000 members,
was also significant. The overall result has been a series of scholarly works which
have moved on the debate significantly. (It is fair to say that some historians remain
outside the broad consensus, and even within it there remains plenty of scope for
disagreement and debate). However, the impact of such historical revisionism on the
public and media has been limited. The 1989 television series Blackadder Goes Forth, a
sort of Oh! What a Lovely War for the late twentieth century, was particularly
influential in reinforcing stereotypes of stupid generals fighting a pointless war. It is
significant that when in January 2014 the Conservative cabinet minister Michael Gove
intervened in the debate over the teaching of the First World War, he cited
www.bjmh.org.uk
3
Blackadder.2
The futility/donkeys view underpinned the British government's approach to
commemorating the war. The government's advisory panel was light on professional
historians but room was found for Sebastian Faulks, author of Birdsong, and Pat
Barker, writer of the Regeneration trilogy. Both of these novelists adhere closely to
the traditional narrative. When in October 2012 the Prime Minister, David Cameron,
announced the programme of official commemorations it was noticeable that it
concentrated on British defeats such Gallipoli and the First Day on the Somme but
completely ignored the 'Hundred Days' campaign of 1918, when the forces of the
British Empire, with their allies, won the greatest series of military victories in British
history. The speech showed little knowledge or understanding of the Great War. For
instance, Cameron stated that ‘200,000 were killed on one day of the Battle of the
Somme’. Assuming he meant 1 July 1916, the true figure was actually nearly 20,000,
which is of course shocking enough, but for the UK’s Prime Minister to have a made
such a ludicrous mistake in the announcement of the government’s plans for the
centenary did not promote confidence that they would be underpinned by a rigorous
understanding of the history involved. Similarly Cameron's statement that ‘To us,
today, it seems so inexplicable that countries which had many things binding them
together could indulge in such a never-ending slaughter, but they did’ suggests that
the Prime Minister and his speech writers had a deeply flawed understanding of the
nature of the conflict.3 Cameron’s speech brought about a highly critical reaction
from some historians, including me. 4 Nonetheless, the government's programme
proved too much for some, and initiated a renewed battle for the meaning of the
First World War.
In May 2013 a letter from a group of actors, musicians, poets and politicians was
published in the Guardian, a liberal-left newspaper. It attacked the government's
remembrance programme, declaring 'Far from being a "War to end all wars" or a
"Victory for democracy" this was a military disaster and a human catastrophe'.5 This
promptly became known in some circles as the "Luvvies' Letter".6 Historical research
2
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2532923/Michael-Gove-blasts-Blackadder-myths-FirstWorld-War-spread-television-sit-coms-left-wing-academics.html, 2 January 2014 (accessed 9 October
2014)
3
https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/speech-at-imperial-war-museum-on-first-world-warcentenary-plans, 11 October 2012 (accessed 22 November 2013)
4
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/britain-at-war/10037507/Historians-complainGovernments-WW1-commemoration-focuses-on-British-defeats.html, 5 May 2013, (accessed 22
November 2013)
5
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/may/21/remembering-war-to-promote-peace, 21 May
2013 (accessed 22 November 2013)
6
For cultural figures pronouncing on the history of the Great War, see Gary Sheffield. ‘The
Centenary of the First World War: An Unpopular View’, in The Historian No.122 (Summer 20114) pp. 2425
4
and analysis are highly specialised activities. More than most historical events, the
First World War prompts people to go public with views based on emotion, limited
knowledge and flawed understanding.
In case anyone thinks that opposition to such views as those laid out in the Luvvies'
Letter is the preserve of male, middle-aged professors of military history, let me
quote at length from the opinion of Dr Jessica Meyer, who is none of these things:
My main reason for annoyance lies, I think, in two aspects of the letter. The
first is the apparent belief that those engaged professionally with and in the
arts (as the majority of the signatories are) have a particular authority to
speak about the horror of war… I cannot help feeling that some, such as
Michael Morpurgo, are using their status as creators of cultural expression
which use the war as subject matter to give themselves authority to
pronounce on the ‘truth’ about the war, drawing on the tradition of the
First World War canon...
The second infuriating aspect of the letter is the dichotomy it sets up
between national commemoration and the promotion of international peace
and understanding through a focus on its futility and devastation. Such
attempts to impose a contemporary political narrative on the
commemorations feels like a betrayal of the men who fought… There were
certainly plenty of voices calling for international peace both at the start and
in the wake of war. Equally there were many who saw the war as a fight for
national survival against the threat of Prussian militarism. And there were
many who, in fighting for King and Country, were simply fighting to preserve
the sanctity of the small part of that nation that they called home. Far more
men enlisted in the belief that they were defending democracy, however
limited that democracy might seem from a 21st century perspective, than
we tend to given them credit for. Many survived the war, just as many did
not. Some were disillusioned by their experience; many incorporated it into
their life stories and carried on, changed but not destroyed by war. To deny
any this is to deny those who gave voice to these sentiments, as a huge
number did, the validity of their beliefs and does their memory a huge
disservice…7
The government is very aware of the criticisms of the anti-war lobby, and is rather
scared of it. In an extreme form it reflects the futility/donkeys narrative dominant in
7
Jessica
Meyer,
‘Possibly
an
angry
post’
(blog,
http://armsandthemedicalman.wordpress.com/2013/05/22/possibly-an-angry-post/ 22 May 2013, (accessed
22 November 2013). Dr Meyer is a cultural historian. I am grateful for her permission to reproduce part
of her blog.
www.bjmh.org.uk
5
British society, and politicians do not want to alienate voters. This helps to explain
the choice of events that will receive full-scale formal commemoration, as announced
by David Cameron in October 2012, discussed above. The historical illiteracy of
omitting the Hundred Days is, as Professor Peter Simkins has trenchantly observed,
akin to commemorating the Second World War by marking the Fall of Singapore but
ignoring D-Day.8 To be fair, the government has changed its mind on this. Under
pressure from various quarters, agreement has been reached in principle to
commemorate the Battle of Amiens (8 August 1918), arguably the turning point on
the Western Front.
The government have also been wary about stating why the war was fought. The
current debate over the origins of the war is a red herring. There has been
widespread media approval of Christopher Clark's 'sleepwalkers' thesis, reinforced in
some ways by Margaret MacMillan’s book, that the war was 'a tragedy, not a crime'
and blame should not be allocated to individuals or states.9 However the mainstream
historical position, based on 50 years of scholarship, is that on the contrary, AustriaHungary and Germany bore the lion's share of the responsibility for the outbreak of
war. Anyone solely reliant on the mass media for their information might not realise
this. The third volume of John Röhl’s magisterial biography of Kaiser Wilhelm II,
which does not hesitate to allocate blame to Germany, provides a powerful counter
to the ‘sleepwalkers’ idea.10 The notion of Europe drifting into war fits the current
European zeitgeist of failing to face up to uncomfortable truths about the recent past.
Not surprisingly, Clark’s book has becomes a best-seller in Germany. However, in
my view, the evidence demonstrates Austro-Hungarian and German culpability for
the outbreak of the First World War.11
Of course, if no one was to blame for starting the war, the conflict can be seen as
futile: except, no matter who was responsible, Germany took full advantage of the
outbreak of hostilities. Berlin waged an aggressive war of conquest, carving out a
huge empire, imposing brutal rule on occupied peoples and imperilling both the
security of Britain and the Empire and the future of liberal democracy on continental
Europe. For Britain the war was both a war of national survival and, in 1918, one of
8
www.westernfrontassociation.com/news/newsflash.html?start=65, 24 October 2013, (10
October 2014)
9
Christopher Clark, The Sleepwalkers: How Europe Went to War in 1914 (London, Penguin, 2013
[2012]) p.561; Margaret MacMillan, The War That Ended Peace (London, Profile, 2012). For my detailed
criticisms of this approach see Gary Sheffield, A Short History of the First World War (London, Oneworld,
2014), Chapter 1.
10
John Röhl, Wilhelm II: Into the Abyss of War and Exile, 1900-1941 (Cambridge, Cambridge
University Press, 2014)
11
For an excellent collection of documents in English translation, see Annika Mombauer, The
Origins of the First World War: Diplomatic and Military Documents (Manchester, Manchester University Press,
2013)
6
liberation. To take another example of an actor expressing a view on the meaning of
the First World War, in 2013 Caroline Quentin spoke about the new production of
Oh! What a Lovely War being ‘a heartbreaking piece about the futility of war’.12 One
wonders what a war would need to be fought about to qualify as not being futile in
Ms Quentin’s book.
The Luvvies' Letter and the like flourish in an environment in which the UK
government, the successor of the ones that took Britain into the war in August 1914
and led the country through four and a half years of total war, refuses clearly to state
that in 1914-18 the vast majority of the British people supported the war, seeing it as
a war of national survival. In a democracy, a total war cannot be waged without the
consent of the people. Neither will the government broadcast the fact that the
weight of historical evidence and opinion points to the British people of a century
ago being right in their views. The government makes the argument that it is not its
place to place interpretations on historical events. This might have some validity but
for the fact that this government (like all others) is very keen to put forward
historical interpretations when it suits them. The legacy of Margaret Thatcher,
another highly controversial historical issue which resurfaced after her death in 2013,
is a case in point. Even more pertinent is the way the fiftieth anniversaries of D-Day
and VE Day, which fell in 1994 and 1995, were commemorated. The government of
the day had no hesitation in placing a particular interpretation (from the British point
of view, a very positive one) on those events.
Some individuals, such as Andrew Murrison MP, deserve credit for making public
statements supportive of the view that the war was a struggle for national survival.
There is a consensus that the centenary years should be about commemoration, not
triumphalism. The outbreak of the war in 1914 is absolutely nothing to celebrate.
The centenary of 1918 is, however, a different matter. In January 2014 Helen Grant,
the Tory minister with responsibility for commemorating the centenary, sent out
mixed messages, stating 1918 ‘ was an absolutely vital victory’ but ‘we won’t be
celebrating that fact’.13 The successes of the British armed forces and the British
nation-in-arms should be celebrated, but not in a triumphalist fashion – I agree with
Ms Grant on that much. ‘Celebration’ in the sense of public acknowledgment of a
job well done, a great national achievement, would be wholly appropriate. The UK
government thought it fitting to celebrate the victory of 1945. It is equally fitting to
celebrate that of 1918.
Overall, the government, by failing to provide clear and decisive leadership on this
12
Evening Standard, 22 October 2013; http://www.standard.co.uk/news/oh-what-a-lovely-voicecaroline-quentin-starts-training-for-musical-8896715.html, 22 October 2013 (accessed 14 October 2014)
13
http://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/458507/ww1-victory-should-not-be-celebrated-with-dancing-in-thestreet-MP-Helen-Grant-says 7 February 2014 (accessed 9 October 2014)
www.bjmh.org.uk
7
issue, is missing a unique opportunity educate the population that the war was fought
over major issues, that it was not meaningless, and a million men did not die for
nothing. This is nothing short of an abdication of responsibility. To adapt Jessica
Meyer’s point, allowing the imposition by default of a contemporary political
narrative on the commemorations feels like a betrayal of the men who fought, died,
survived, and were victorious.
Turning to the media; newspapers, the BBC, and to a lesser extent other
broadcasters, have embraced the First World War with a vengeance. It has certainly
given various military historians a public platform and what are in historiographical
terms old ideas have suddenly become current. Niall Ferguson’s views: that he
considers it a catastrophe that Britain did not stay out of the war, and the world
would have been better off by a Europe conquered by a ‘benign’ German state, were
first put forward in the mid-1990s, but they became front-page news in the Guardian
in January 2014.14 Even more surprisingly, The Times gave me half a page to explain
why I think his views are profoundly wrong. Views of various sorts have appeared
across the press. The Guardian seems particularly keen on publishing pieces that
depict the war as futile, although they published an article of mine that argued the
opposite. As a life-long Guardian reader, it was an interesting experience being
attacked in my daily newspaper of choice as a warmonger, and worse. The wider
point is, however, that in spite of Michael Gove’s ill-informed attack in January on
‘left wing historians’ for belittling Britain’s war effort for the most part the centenary
commemorations have not been a party political football. Andrew Murrison, a
Conservative, and Dan Jarvis, his Labour Shadow, co-operate closely and have both
been at pains to avoid politicising the centenary. Neither can historians be neatly
divided up by political allegiance. Sir Richard Evans, a leftist who has emerged as a
forthright spokesmen for the ‘futility’ view of the war, has found himself occupying
common ground with Niall Ferguson and (posthumously) with Alan Clark, both very
much of the right, while those who believe it was right for Britain to fight in the war
include historians whose politics straddle the spectrum from left to right via apolitical.
The response of the BBC to the centenary has been to go into overdrive, with 2,500
hours of programmes plus a major website. The comments that follow are quite
critical, so let me preface them by saying that the BBC has produced a great deal of
very good, high quality programming and internet material, and I have every reason
to believe that there is a lot more to come. This in my view justifies paying the
licence fee. But I have some major reservations. For a start, there is too much
coverage of the First World War, and it started too early. There is a real possibility
that people will simply become bored with the war by the end of 2014, let alone by
14
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/jan/30/britain-first-world-war-biggest-error-niallferguson, 30 January 2014 (accessed 15 October 2014)
8
2018.
The flagship BBC TV series: ‘Britain’s Great War’, fronted by Jeremy Paxman,
displayed a number of strengths, but also many weaknesses. Appearing at primetime
on BBC1, the programme had enormous reach, and as one reviewer wrote that
Paxman’s ‘inclusion as presenter says "serious" and it says "knowledgeable"’.15 This
can be seen as the BBC marking a great national event and fulfilling its mandate to
educate. An alternative view is that the series was rather lightweight. While it
certainly did not pander to the ‘futility’ view, and broadly reflects current scholarship,
some of the analysis in the programmes was superficial. Overall, 'Britain's Great War'
was marred by some poor editorial decisions on inclusion or exclusion of material.
The omission of the Battle of Jutland, and the concentration on the first day of the
Battle of the Somme to the exclusion of the rest of this four month campaign were
perhaps the most egregious examples. Moreover Paxman, who may be looked on as
authoritative by a mass audience, is a journalist not a historian, and in a wellpublicised comment at a literary festival revealed that his knowledge of Britain in the
First World War has some surprising and rudimentary gaps.16 The series would have
had more credibility with a reputable historian presenting the series – and how well
Richard Holmes would have fulfilled that role – or failing that, an actor reading a
script. Using Paxman as front man is a facet of the BBC’s obsession with celebrity,
and this was compounded by the failure to feature a single scholarly historian on
screen, although other people (such as another celebrity, the Downton Abbey
scriptwriter Julian Fellowes) did appear.
The rise of the 'drama-documentary' has been a feature of television over the last
few years. This can take the form of dramatisation of events within the context of a
conventional 'talking head and film clip' documentary, or a programme that consists
solely of a dramatisation. Anyone who acted as a historical adviser to a conventional
television documentary will know that the final script is the result of a series of
compromises, and will have suffered the frustration of having their advice ignored
because factual accuracy does not fit in with what the TV people want to do. Dr
Adrian Gregory, of Pembroke College Oxford, has tweeted about his experience
on Great Britain's Great War, and it is about par for the course. 17 The trade-off
between historical accuracy and the nature of television as a medium of
entertainment is particularly acute in the case of 'pure' drama-docs. Bjorn Rose, an
ex-Army officer now working as a history teacher, having brought a party of
schoolboys to the set to act as extras, found himself very unexpectedly working as a
15
The
Independent,
28
January
2014;
http://www.independent.co.uk/artsentertainment/tv/reviews/britains-great-war-bbc1-tv-review-memories-from-the-home-front-humanisepaxmans-war-story-9088991.html, 28 January 2014, (accessed 10 October 2014)
16
Daily Mail, 9 October 2013, p.17
17
See @AdrianGregory20’s Twitter timeline.
www.bjmh.org.uk
9
historical adviser on the 'Mons' episode of Our World War This BBC series, broadcast
in August 2014, sought to repeat the success of Our War, a 'fly-on-the-wall' series of
documentaries on the British army in Afghanistan, in which Captain Rose's platoon
had featured.
He had some success in pointing out obvious errors - he persuaded the art
department not to dress the set portraying Nimy bridge in 1914 with Brodie steel
helmets, which were not introduced until a year later and only became general issue
in 1916 - but otherwise was bemused by the lack of attention to historical detail and
willingness to perpetuate blatant inaccuracies and anachronisms. In particular, Rose
contested the statement at the end of the programme that the British army had been
'humiliated' at Mons. To put the best possible interpretation on this view, it is highly
debatable. Some historians, myself included, would describe it as nonsense. Needless
to say, Bjorn Rose lost the argument.18
That Professor David Reynolds' series The Long Shadow was screened is evidence that
the BBC is prepared to take risks on giving a heavyweight historian a series which
deals with a serious topic in a serious way, albeit on BBC2 rather than BBC1.The
series looks at the legacy of the First World War across a range of issues, and is
something of a model in conveying deep scholarship in an accessible fashion. It would
have served the cause of education much better, and done something to repair the
tattered reputation of the BBC as a broadcaster of serious documentaries on
mainstream television, if The Long Shadow had been the flagship series for 2014 rather
than Britain's Great War.
Does any of it - the re-hashing of stale arguments by newspapers, dumbed-down and
inaccurate television programmes, and the ambivalent and grudging response of the
British government - really matter? I think it does. The Great War Centenary years
offer a once-in-a-century opportunity for education, and to move serious debate
beyond a narrow circle of historians. The interest and enthusiasm I have witnessed
among local history groups, civic societies, in schools, colleges and universities, and
the myriad of exhibitions and publications telling the story of the impact of the First
World War on local communities has been truly inspiring.19 My hope is that at the
end of the centenary period the people of Britain will have a more mature, reflective
18
Information given by Bjorn Rose, 6 October 2014.
At the risk of being invidious I have been particularly impressed by the First World War
exhibition at the Manx Museum http://www.manxnationalheritage.im/news/new-exhibition-to-mark-100thanniversary-of-the-first-world-war/ and the accompanying book: Matthew Richardson, This Terrible Ordeal:
Manx Letters, Diaries and Memories of the Great War (Douglas, Manx National Heritage, 2013), and by
Martin Hayes and Emma White (eds.), Great War Britain: West Sussex Remembering 1914-18 (Stroud, The
History Press, 2014). I provided a foreword to the latter.
19
10
and less strident view of the Great War; one less encumbered by myths, half-truths
prejudice. We should not allow this opportunity to slip through our hands.
www.bjmh.org.uk
11
The Annual Confidential Report and Promotion in
the Late Victorian Army
IAN F. W. BECKETT
University of Kent
ABSTRACT
The annual confidential report offers insights into both the manner of
promotion in the late Victorian Army and the personalities of some of its
key figures. This article looks in depth at the form, function and usage of
the Annual Confidential Report, arguing that it was a flawed system
which hampered the ability of Lord Roberts and Viscount Wolseley to
promote the best officers to high command.
In October 1902 General Sir Evelyn Wood appeared before the Elgin Commission
examining the conduct of the South African War. Wood had been Adjutant General
in the War Office from 1897 to 1901. Understandably, one of the principal avenues
of enquiry was the quality of military leadership in South Africa. Asked about officer
training, Wood placed blame on the annual confidential reports upon which the
Selection Board relied for information when considering promotions to higher ranks:
‘The confidential reports up to recently have not been sufficiently drastic and straight;
it is only in recent years that the man making the report has understood that his own
character is also at stake for fairness and for telling the facts as they really are.’1
To Wood, promotion up to the rank of Major appeared automatic. Thereafter, it
was a matter of seniority tempered by rejection only in the very worst cases despite
the fact that selection of higher commands by merit alone had been supposedly in
force since 1891. Wood suggested that there were three distinct categories of
officers that could be identified from confidential reports. There were those whose
fitness for advancement was undoubted, and those with such a bad record that their
unfitness was readily apparent. The great majority, however, were ‘colourless men’,
who had been promoted ‘simply because “there is nothing known against them”’.
1
House of Commons Parliamentary Papers 1904 [Cd. 1790] Report of the Royal Commission on
the War in South Africa, Minutes of Evidence, p. 176, c. 4166, Wood, 29 Oct. 1902.
12
THE ANNUAL CONFIDENTIAL REPORT
The quotation was taken from Wood’s own memorandum on selection written in
October 1900.2
The criticism of confidential reports was not new. In October 1888, Sir George
Chesney, the Military Member of the Viceroy’s Council, had complained that there
was a reluctance to report adversely on subordinates by those ‘who in their desire
to make things pleasant, do not put before A.H.Q. & Govt. their real opinions about
officers’. According to Chesney, district commanders in India would not commit to
paper what they really thought of an individual so that ‘no one wd. infer from them,
what has been notorious for years to everyone in the army, except apparently the
General O.C. the district, that he is a thoroughly useless officer’. Referring to the
case of Lieutenant Colonel Williams of the 16th Bombay Cavalry in March 1889,
Chesney similarly claimed that inspecting officers ‘will not do their duty but are too
anxious to make things pleasant all round’. The result was that the authorities were
aware of an officer’s incompetence but ‘there are no public vouchers to that effect,
and they cannot establish a case merely on private opinion but must have something
official and definite to go on’.3
Equally, Lieutenant General Sir Donald Stewart, soon to become Commander-inChief in India, wrote in 1880,
The curse of our service is that people - I mean most people - won’t say
what they think about an officer till it is too late. Then the authorities that
ought to know all about the Army then round and say there is nothing on
record against so & so as if that were a sufficient recommendation in his
favour.
Subsequently, Stewart told his successor, General Sir Frederick Roberts, in May 1887
that he did not consider J. F. Cadogan of the 33rd Bengal Infantry capable of
commanding a regiment ‘and yet I am not certain there is anything very strong on
record against him’.4 Amid the recriminations following the disaster at Maiwand in
Afghanistan in July 1880, the Commander-in-Chief at the War Office, George, Duke
of Cambridge, criticised the Commander-in-Chief in Bombay, Lieutenant General
Henry Warre, for his selection of Lieutenant General James Primrose for the
command at Kandahar. Warre tried to deflect criticism by suggesting that he should
not have been expected to report on someone of equal rank. Cambridge retorted
that a candid view should have been given: ‘In high positions disagreeable things have
2
Ibid., p. 179, c. 4246; National Army Museum (hereafter NAM), Roberts Mss, 7101-23-207,
Memorandum by Wood, 15 Oct. 1900; also in The National Archives (hereafter TNA), WO 32/8367.
3
NAM, Roberts Mss, 7101-232-14, Chesney to Roberts, 1 Oct. 1888, and 12 Mar. 1889.
4
National Library of Wales, Hills-Johnes of Dolaucothi Mss, L13655, Stewart to Hills, 16 May
1880; NAM, Roberts Mss, 7101-23-78, Stewart to Roberts, 5 May 1887.
www.bjmh.org.uk
13
to be done at times for the good of the public service.’ Cambridge also suggested
that he had advanced Primrose in rank previously in the belief that he was able, and
could not have known otherwise unless properly informed through reports.5
Newly appointed Cambridge’s successor as Commander-in-Chief, Field Marshal
Viscount Wolseley complained to Roberts, now also a field marshal and commanding
in Ireland, in September 1895 that the Selection Board was necessarily guided by
confidential reports but, in the case of officers of the Indian army, they were of little
use: ‘All their geese are swans.’6 Wolseley was invariably prejudiced against the Indian
army but there was generally perceived to be a problem. Indeed, when commanding
in Ireland between 1890 and 1895, Wolseley had used the same phrase in noting of
the confidential reports by his four district commanders,
[O]ne must take their opinion of officers in conjunction with what we think
of those Generals & how we value or estimate the worth of their opinions.
To some amiable men all geese are swans, & I must say this of all of them,
that when they find fault & report that any officer is below par, he must be a
real fool.7
Shortly before retiring, Wolseley agreed with Wood’s criticisms of reports,
suggesting there was a system of ‘promotion by seniority in all ranks, tempered by a
somewhat rarely exercised rejection for well recognised incompetency’. While
Wolseley felt the Selection Board had been reasonably successful, not enough was
known about Majors or seconds in command of battalions.8
Wolseley also once remarked of the Military Secretary, Lieutenant General Sir
Edmund Whitmore, that ‘I never knew anyone more anxious to do right, but he
thinks one man is much the same as the other & hates passing any man over because
you have a better man available for the vacancy’. For all their differences on strategic
and military matters, Roberts would have concurred heartily, having noted that ‘as
rule, I have observed that whether men behave well or ill, they are spoken of in the
same terms, and get the same reward’.9
Not surprisingly, Wolseley and Roberts had their own methods of determining
military merit. As is well known, both operated their own ‘rings’ of selected officers.
5
NAM, Warre Mss, 8112-54-673, 705, 707, Warre to Whitmore, 5 Dec. 1880, and Cambridge
to Warre, 11 Nov. and 31 Dec. 1880.
6
Ibid., Roberts Mss, 7101-23-89, Wolseley to Roberts, 4 Sept. 1895.
7
National Library of Ireland (hereafter NLI), Kilmainham 1313, Note by Wolseley, 30 Dec, 1893.
8
TNA, WO 32/8367, Wolseley to PUS, 15 Oct. 1900.
9
Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, Alison Mss, Box 1, Wolseley to Alison, 22 Mar. 1885;
NAM, Roberts Mss, 7101-24-101, Roberts to Dillon, 4 Apl. 1880.
14
For Wolseley the Asante campaign in 1873-74 had marked the real beginning of the
Wolseley or ‘Ashanti’ ring. As Wolseley wrote in his autobiography, ‘he had long
been in the habit of keeping a list of the best and ablest soldiers I knew, and was
always on the look-out for those who could safely be entrusted with any special
military piece of work’. There is evidence for this ‘list’. On his way out to the Gold
Coast, Wolseley gave Captain George Furse ‘a paper bearing a long list of names,
asking him at the same time to mark with a cross any name which he considered to
be that of a good and efficient officer’. In December 1884 Wolseley told his wife,
after an old associate, Sir William Butler, had proved troublesome, he would ‘drop
him from my list’.10
Wolseley always claimed that he picked solely on merit and even his critics
acknowledged that he had the knack of selecting able men. He had a penchant for
courage but also for intellectual reputation, particularly favouring Staff College
graduates. There were obvious disadvantages, Wolseley becoming increasingly a
prisoner of his early successes, feeling it desirable to keep employing the same
individuals lest his rejection of them might reflect on his earlier choice. He also
assumed that selected individuals would always be willing to fill specific roles in his
military corrective when they themselves were growing in stature and seniority.11
Another drawback, as suggested by Cambridge, was that ‘if the same officers are
invariably employed, you have no area for selecting others, and give no others a
chance of coming to the front’.12
Roberts was equally careful. One of Wolseley’s protégés, Lieutenant General Henry
Brackenbury, was appointed Military Member of the Viceroy’s Council in 1891,
throwing him into close proximity to Roberts, who was Commander-in-Chief in India
from 1885 to 1893. In May 1894 Brackenbury specifically compared Roberts’s
methods to those of Wolseley, suggesting that any officer ‘placed in a great position
of authority and responsibility will select as his tools for the work in hand the men
whom he has tried, and found never to fail him, and will prefer them to those who he
has not tried, or to those who he has tried and not found perfect’. Brackenbury had
asked Roberts about the Wolseley ring, to which Roberts had replied that Wolseley
was perfectly right: ‘No officer who has the responsibility laid upon him of carrying
10
Field Marshal Viscount Wolseley, The Story of a Soldier’s Life 2 vols. (London: Archibald
Constable & Co, 1903), II, p. 201; Sir George Douglas, The Life of Major General Wauchope (London:
Hodder & Stoughton, 1905), pp. 63-64, 74; Hove Reference Library, Wolseley Mss, W/P 10/38, Wolseley
to Lady Wolseley, 23-29 Dec. 1884.
11
Adrian Preston (ed.), Sir Garnet Wolseley’s South African Diaries (Natal), 1875 (Cape Town: A. A.
Balkema, 1971), pp. 88-89; Ian F. W. Beckett (ed.), Wolseley and Ashanti: The Asante War Journal and
Correspondence of Major General Sir Garnet Wolseley, 1873-74 (Stroud: History Press for Army Records
Society, 2009), pp. 39-45; idem, ‘Command in the Late Victorian Army’, in Gary Sheffield (ed.), Leadership
and Command: The Anglo-American Military Experience since 1861 (London: Brasseys, 1997), pp. 37-56.
12
A. R. Godwin-Austen, The Staff and the Staff College (London: Constable, 1927), p. 207.
www.bjmh.org.uk
15
out a big job would ever be such a fool as to entrust the details of it to men he did
not know he could rely on.’ 13 Roberts himself told Brigadier General Henry
Wilkinson in February 1887 that he was guided in his choices by his own knowledge
of officers, advice from the HQ staff and higher commanders, the opinion of the
army generally, and confidential reports. Even this was not a foolproof method so far
as confidential reports were concerned. Thus, in September 1887, having been
informed by the Military Secretary that Major Howard Brunker of the Cameronians
‘had been found wanting when in the presence of the enemy in South Africa’, Roberts
complained that he could hardly have known this. Brunker had been favourably
reported on for the past two years in India, and any previous confidential reports had
not been forwarded from the War Office.14
The officer corps of the British and Indian armies was relatively small, but this did not
mean that everyone was well known to everyone else, as frequent comments in
private correspondence make only too clear. Thus, the confidential report remained
significant. General Sir William Lockhart, for example, noted in July 1898 that he
considered Lieutenant General George Sanford the best candidate for the Bombay
command. It was suggested that Sanford was ‘eccentric’. Lockhart commented, ‘but
then I have not seen his confidential report’.15
Clearly, the issue of the annual confidential report is one worth considering in
connection with promotion. One of the difficulties in assessing the impact and
accuracy of reports is the lack of surviving papers relating to the work of the Military
Secretary, responsible to the Commander-in-Chief for personnel issues. Just two
general letter books have survived, covering the period from 1871 to 1893, and what
is characterised as the Commander-in-Chief’s Selection Book, covering the period
from 1882 onwards.16 The latter summarises the information utilised for promotions
from Colonel to Major General, briefly indicating the general gist of confidential
reports only to 1887, at which point the column for ‘Confidential Reports on
Colonel’ is used only to record whether a promotion is by selection or seniority.
Personnel records as such have not survived with the exception of those of a small
selection of leading soldiers, or whose careers were presumably thought of interest.
For the Victorian period, there are relatively few but they do include those for Sir
Redvers Buller; the Duke of Cambridge; Charles Gordon; Herbert Kitchener; Hector
Macdonald; Lord Roberts; the Hon. Reginald Talbot, who commanded the Heavy
13
Royal Artillery Museum, Brackenbury Mss, MD 1085/3, Brackenbury to Buller, 9 May 1894.
NAM, Roberts Mss, 7101-23-199-4, Roberts to Wilkinson, 22 Feb. 1887; ibid, 7010-12-100-1,
Roberts to Harman, 9 Sept., 1887.
15
British Library (hereafter BL), Asia, Pacific and Africa Collections (hereafter APAC),
L/MIL/7/15520, Lockhart to Newmarch, 15 Jul. 1898.
16
NAM, 1998-06-194 and 195, Military Secretary’s Private Letter Books; 1998-06-197,
Commander-in-Chief’s Selection Book.
14
16
Camel Regiment on the Gordon Relief Expedition; and James Henry Reynolds, who
won the VC at Rorke’s Drift.17 A few additional confidential reports have also been
preserved for similarly distinguished soldiers including the Duke of Connaught; Lord
Methuen; W. H. Mackinnon, who commanded the City Imperial Volunteers in the
South African War; and Evelyn Wood.18
Few mention confidential reports in memoirs, the notable exception being Richard
Meinertzhagen, who included extracts from his confidential reports from 1900 to
1924. Meinertzhagen suggested that, despite their invariably flattering nature, he had
‘a wonderful aptitude for hiding my faults, and not allowing my little weaknesses to
see daylight’.19
Officers were reported on in a number of ways that added to their overall record.
There are surviving reports on Indian army officers who attended the Staff College
from 1882 onwards.20 Similarly, there are reports on engineering subalterns leaving
the School of Military Engineering at Chatham between 1889 and 1892.21 Fortunately,
too, all summaries of confidential reports (and a few full reports), primarily for
infantry and cavalry officers, have survived for the Irish Command between 1871 and
1894.22 Summary confidential reports have also survived for officers at command and
staff levels in the Indian army and the British army in India from 1888 onwards.23
Most leading figures such as Wolseley and Roberts expressed themselves freely on
the quality or otherwise of fellow officers in their private correspondence but
Roberts also kept copies of some confidential reports made on senior officers on the
conclusion of his campaigns in the Afghanistan in 1879, and in South Africa in 1900.24
Consequently, there is sufficient material to make an informed assessment of
confidential reports.
The form of the annual report changed over time. In 1874 the first page of the report
for infantry and cavalry officers required an assessment of the state of an officer’s
health; whether fit for service, and with good eyesight; and whether a good
horseman. The commanding officer was required to indicate his reasons for
17
TNA, WO 138.
Ibid., WO 27/489.
19
Richard Meinertzhagen, Army Diary, 1899-1926 (Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1960), pp. 290-96.
20
BL, APAC, L/MIL/7/3424-27.
21
TNA, WO 25/3950.
22
NLI, Kilmainham 1307-1313.
23
BL, APAC, L/MIL/7/17038-50.
24
NAM, Roberts Mss, 7101-23-148, Reports for 1879, reproduced in part in Brian Robson (ed.),
Roberts in India: The Military Papers of Field Marshal Lord Roberts, 1876-93 (Stroud: Alan Sutton for Army
Records Society, 1993), pp. 68-69; ibid., 7101-23-188, Reports for 1900, reproduced in full in André
Wessels (ed.), Lord Roberts and the War in South Africa, 1899-1902 (Stroud: Sutton Publishing for Army
Records Society, 2000), pp.126-30. Additional Confidential Reports by Roberts are in TNA, WO 105/25
and 27].
18
www.bjmh.org.uk
17
considering an officer fit for his current position and for advancement, or reasons for
dissatisfaction. The back of the form carried details of date of birth; whether an
officer had been a cadet at the Royal Military College, Sandhurst or had attended the
Staff College; whether he had attended schools of instruction; whether he had passed
for promotion; whether he had command of any languages; and whether he was
married or single. The form also required details of whether an officer had been
distinguished in the field, such as receiving a mention in despatches or orders and
decorations; as well as full details of military service and appointments. The
inspecting officer - usually the district commander - would then comment upon the
report.25
By 1885, the first page of the report also required details of an officer’s general ability;
general professional requirements; capacity for command; self-reliance; readiness and
resource; judgement and tact; temper; his practical proficiency in application of drill,
reconnaissance, outpost and patrol duties, and horsemanship. The back of the form
had not essentially changed although it now also required whether an officer was
qualified in signalling, and the name and address of next of kin.26 By 1891, it had
changed again. The first page now sought detail on general ability; general
professional acquirements; practical proficiency in drill and field movement;
professional zeal; smartness in performance of duties; level of horsemanship; and an
officer’s capacity for command in terms of judgement, tact, temper, self-reliance, and
power of commanding respect. There also had to be an assessment as to whether an
officer was equal to, or above, or below the average in his unit; and whether he
could exercise proper influence for his rank over officers, NCOs and men. The back
of the form now had additional separate sections for what level of promotion an
officer had passed; whether he had attended schools of instruction for musketry,
military engineering, signalling, cavalry, pioneers, mounted infantry, veterinary work,
supply, transport, riding, and gymnastics; and whether he had acted as an adjutant.27
New guidance issued in 1893 required to know additionally where an officer had
attended a school of instruction; whether he had been adjutant of a militia or
volunteer battalion; and the level at which Persian or Hindustani had been passed.28
The surviving Irish Command report summaries have few for engineer or artillery
officers. The front of the form was common to those of infantry and cavalry officers
but the back required information on particular professional attainments. The
artillery form in 1887 wanted information on an officer’s knowledge of the
instructions laid down in the field artillery manual; and his power of applying the
25
26
27
NLI, Kilmainham 1307, Form for Captain William Abberley, 2/8th Foot, 2 Jul. 1874.
Ibid., Kilmainham 1310, Blank Form, 7 May 1885.
NLI, Kilmainham 1312, Report on Major Somerset Kevil-Davies, 2nd Gordon Highlanders, 29
Jul. 1891.
28
18
Ibid., Kilmainham 1313, Note by Childers, 20 May 1893.
same in the field, by battery and in brigade, and in relation to other arms. For
garrison artillery officers there had to be an assessment of an officer’s general
knowledge of the instructions laid down in manuals for garrison and siege artillery;
his degree of practical knowledge of the work of heavy garrison ordnance; his
knowledge of hydraulics applied to artillery service; and his knowledge of steam and
machinery, of electricity, and of drawing. In the case of engineering officers, the 1893
form required information on professional qualifications listed as attendance at the
Staff College; and knowledge of field engineering, permanent fortification,
construction and estimating, field telegraphy and signalling, electricity, submarine
mining, surveying, railways, and ballooning. It also required the knowledge possessed
of foreign languages, and of musketry. A solitary report form on a medical officer,
also from 1893, was again common to that of others so far as the first page was
concerned. On the back, it required to know whether an officer has passed in
military law; if he had done so at a training school, in the medical staff corps, or at
Aldershot; if he had passed a riding class; and whether he possessed other special
acquirements and qualifications as a medical officer.29
In theory at least, the amount of detail required was considerable. Additional reports
might be required, especially if an officer appealed against the judgements passed on
him. Moreover, the more senior the officer, the more comments were applied up the
chain of command. In those reports forwarded to the India Office for onward
transmission to the War Office, for example, comments on senior officers in the
Bombay and Madras presidencies were made by the governors of those presidencies
as well as by the Commander-in-Chief in India. When Lieutenant Colonel the Hon.
Paul Methuen was about to be appointed Assistant Adjutant General to the Irish
Command in 1877, his predecessor, Charles Wynne-Finch, told him that dealing with
the confidential reports for seven cavalry regiments, 21 infantry battalions and three
companies of engineers, as well as for all the staff, was ‘the “devil”’ in terms of work.
The process began each August and continued until the following March.30
Perusal of the Irish reports suggests that Wood was essentially correct: those
detailed comments recorded in summary returns tend to relate routinely to the
commanding officer and second in command of units but, otherwise, only to those
with obvious failings. In both October 1873 and October 1874, for example, all 31
captains and lieutenants of the 6th Dragoons were simply reported as satisfactory.31
To some extent, it depended upon the GOC. Upon assuming the Irish Command in
October 1880, General Sir Thomas Steele directed that only unfavourable reports
should be recorded. By contrast, when in Ireland, Wolseley insisted that the first
29
Ibid., Kilmainham 1310, Report on Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elliott, A Brigade, RHA, 2 Aug.
1887; ibid., 1313, Blank Engineer and Medical Forms, 1893.]
30
Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre, Methuen Mss, 1742/6335, Letters on Appointment to
Dublin, Wynne-Finch to Methuen, 19 Mar. 1877.
31
NLI, Kilmainham 1307, Reports of 13 Oct. 1873, and 1 Oct. 1874.
www.bjmh.org.uk
19
four officers in a unit should be reported on as to their fitness for promotion if it was
a two-battalion regiment, or the first six officers in the case of a three-battalion
regiment. Forms had to be filled in correctly and fully; periods of half pay should not
be counted as employment; the place of birth must be accurately given; there must
be a complete address for next of kin; and only the commanding officer and the
inspecting officer were permitted to complete the boxes for additional comments.32
Yet, even in Wolseley’s time, every subordinate officer in a regiment could be
returned simply as satisfactory, as in the case of all 26 captains and lieutenants in the
1st King’s Own (Royal Lancaster Regiment) in October 1891, and all 24 captains and
lieutenants in the 1st Royal Sussex Regiment in July 1893.33
There is also evidence of the reluctance to be specific in comments. In August 1884,
Major General Lord Clarina, commanding the Dublin District, indicated that
Lieutenant Colonel John Blaksley of the 1st Buffs (East Kent Regiment) was not a
success ‘although I am not prepared to give any specific reasons for expressing this
opinion, but he is certainly not popular with his officers & is disliked socially
according to common report’. The Military Secretary responded by demanding a full
report: ‘It is necessary that reasons should be fully given for forming an adverse
opinion regarding any officer, but Lord Clarina, although he has formed an
unfavourable opinion of Lt. Col. Blaksley, states that he is not prepared to give any
reasons for having formed it.’ Clarina replied with details of Blaksley’s want of tact
and judgement, defending his own original intention as being a desire
to avoid troubling the authorities with unnecessary correspondence, & in
the exercise of his important command he has never shrunk from taking on
himself as much responsibility as possible, therefore he (Lord C.) some
months since settled a misunderstanding which had arisen between Lt. Col.
Blaksley & his officers, with regard to a question relating to the Officers
Mess; on which occasion he (Lord C.) could not fail to perceive that “he”
certainly did not command their esteem, & that “he” had displayed great
want of judgement.
Cambridge concluded from the evidence Clarina now presented that
unless this officer can so far alter his mode of carrying on his duties as to
conduce to a more cordial feeling towards him on the part of his
subordinates it will become a matter for consideration whether in the
interests of the Service and the well being of the Battn. Lt. Col. Blaksley
32
Ibid., Kilmainham 1309, Note by Boyle, 2 Oct. 1880; ibid., 1313, Note by Childers, 20 May
1893.
33
20
Ibid., Kilmainham 1312, Report, 22 Oct. 1891; 1313, Report, 20-21 Jul. 1893.
should not be called upon to retire from a position which he does not
appear to be sufficiently qualified to fill in a very essential point.
Blaksley denied being on poor terms with his officers, and entered a heartfelt plea to
be allowed to continue in the army, at which point Clarina indicated that he wished
to say no more to damage Blaksley’s prospects. He trusted that the episode would
have taught Blaksley the need for requisite tact.34
In the following year, Clarina was again compelled to elucidate further his remarks on
Lieutenant Colonel Edwin Oldfield, and Majors John Harkness and John Vincent of
the 1st Northumberland Fusiliers. Not having previously seen Oldfield, Clarina had
relied on the report of the battalion’s former commanding officer, Lieutenant
Colonel Norman Macdonald, that Oldfield had ‘completely lost his head on parade’.
Similarly, he had relied on Macdonald’s view that Vincent lacked tact and judgement.
Clarina excused this on the grounds that, with between 500 and 600 officers in
Dublin District, he ‘need scarcely observe that it is manifestly impossible for him to
become personally acquainted with the qualifications of every individual officer,
therefore he is obliged in a great measure, to rely on the information he obtains from
Comg. Offs’. In the case of Vincent, it transpired that Macdonald, in turn, had based
his own view on what he had been told of Vincent’s performance as adjutant of the
3rd Northumberland Fusiliers. Meanwhile, Harkness had been promoted to command
the 2nd Battalion on the basis of Clarina’s satisfactory reports for 1883 and 1884 yet
he now claimed Harkness had little ability. The Duke of Cambridge required to know
how these reports could be reconciled, noting that he,
is obliged to rely on the reports received from Genl. Officers to assist him
in deciding as to the fitness of an officer for promotion, and specially in the
selection of a Lieut. Colonel for the responsible position of the command of
a Battalion, and H.R.H. is placed in a very difficult position, when, after acting
on such a report and appointing an officer to a command, he receives an
unfavourable report from the same General Officer.
Clarina replied that he felt ‘no difficulty in reconciling the apparent anomaly of his
having in three separate reports rendered in three different years expressed opinions
regarding an officer at variance with one another’. He had seen Harkness only in the
capacity of an acting magistrate in 1883 and 1884, and was not aware of his more
general failings until the battalion was concentrated in Dublin in 1885. Rather giving
the game away in precisely the way that general criticisms of the annual confidential
reports have already been implied, however, Clarina also wrote,
34
Ibid., Kilmainham 1309, Steele to Whitmore, 27 Aug. 1884; Boyle to Clarina, 16 Sept, 1884;
Clarina to Boyle, 23 Sept, 1884; Whitmore to Clarina, 26 Sept. 1884; Steele to Whitmore, 9 Oct. 1884;
ibid., 1310, Note by Clarina, 28 Oct. 1884.
www.bjmh.org.uk
21
No man can possibly more dislike having to make a disparaging remark as to
the capacity of an officer than he (Lord C.) does, and he trusts H.R.H. will
credit him with the desire to faithfully discharge the somewhat invidious
duties which an Inspg. Gen. Officer is required to perform & that his
explanation may be considered sufficient.35
Even Wolseley, who was usually more than willing to express his dissatisfaction with
officers, could pull his punches on occasion. Thus, in October 1891, Wolseley
described Colonel Montgomery Williams, commanding the Regimental District at
Birr, as ‘absolutely useless in any Military position’ and ‘absolutely unqualified’ for
further promotion. Yet, Wolseley indicated that he would find it difficult to put his
exact reasons for these judgements into an official document. Since Williams was due
to retire anyway, it would be better merely to say that, in line with previous reports,
he had been found wanting in the district’s essential recruiting work through lack of
energy and want of ‘go’. Similarly, in August 1892 Wolseley chose not to disclose in
full to the officer in question, Lieutenant Colonel William Roberts of the 2nd Duke of
Cornwall’s Light Infantry, adverse reports upon him. Wolseley commented that ‘I
don’t think one can expect to obtain usefully guiding information from those in
command relating to the men under their orders, if their reports are to be shown to
those concerned.’ He went on,
In these days of selection, it is very easy to tell a Lieut. Colonel that he has
not been selected for promotion, because there were others whom it was
considered in the interests of the Army & of the State were more fitted for
higher positions. One can do this without hurting an officer’s feelings, for
you don’t tell him he is useless, but that there are others better than he.36
In much the same way, while suggesting that adverse remarks should normally be
communicated to officers, Roberts as Commander-in-Chief in Madras had declined
to pass on his full report to Brigadier General George de Berry in January 1883. The
latter would not be re-employed and was due to be retired in a matter of months:
the full extent of the criticism would only pain an old soldier.37 De Berry, who had
first seen action in the Sikh Wars but none since the Mutiny, was duly retired as a
Major General in June 1883.
35
Ibid., Kilmainham 1310, Note by Clarina, 14 Oct. 1885; Macdonald to Turner, 13 Oct. 1885;
Turner to Clarina, 5 Dec, 1885; Prince Edward of Saxe-Weimar to Harman, 12 Dec, 1885.
36
Ibid., Kilmainham 1312, Wolseley to Harman, 4 Oct. and 17 Oct. 1891; ibid, Wolseley to
Harman, 27 Aug. 1892.
37
NAM, Roberts Mss, 7101-23-97, Roberts to Dillon, 31 Jan. 1883.
22
On occasions, too, there was a desire to given an officer the benefit of the doubt. In
January 1875, Cambridge proposed to remove Colonel Joyce from the 68th Sub
District at Galway as a result of the report by General Lord Sandhurst. Sandhurst,
however, indicated that ‘it did not occur to me to suggest this officer’s removal.
Although I may believe him to be unsuitable for an independent Command’. Joyce’s
correspondence had suggested to Sandhurst that he was of ‘flighty intelligence’ and
‘impudent in speech’. Sandhurst recommended proceeding cautiously as he had not
disclosed his views to Joyce but the latter had already been called upon to resign and
was now demanding to know the cause. Lieutenant General Sir Edward Holdich,
commanding the Dublin District, upheld Sandhurst’s view and Joyce was told bluntly
he could sell his commission, go on half pay, or retire on full pay as he was over 60.38
In May 1885 there were adverse reports on Captain Charles Mayne of No. 1 Battery,
1st Brigade (Western Division) Royal Artillery at Carlisle Fort, Cork. Mayne had
appeared to be drunk on a number of occasions, once while at the theatre in Cork,
but was otherwise considered a good officer. Mayne was refused the interview he
sought with the Duke of Cambridge and passed over for promotion. But, since the
Duke wished to give Mayne the chance to redeem himself, he was given a year’s
probation during which he would be reported on monthly.39 In August 1887 General
H.S.H. Prince Edward of Saxe Weimar acknowledged that Colonel John Kinchant of
the 11th Hussars was wanting in tact, as suggested by Major General the Hon. Charles
Thesiger, who commanded the Cavalry Brigade at the Curragh, as well as acting as
Inspector General of Cavalry in Ireland. Prince Edward felt Thesiger over ready to
take offence. In the event, Kinchant retired in November 1887, being granted the
honorary rank of Major General.40
Kinchant’s case raises the issue of where there was disagreement on the quality of an
officer and adverse comment, of course, could have its roots in personalities. In
terms of the former, for example, there was disagreement over a number of years of
the merits of Colonel Thomas Crawley, a British officer serving as Assistant Adjutant
General first at Lahore and then Allahabad. In 1891 Major General Sir Hugh Gough,
an Indian army officer commanding at Lahore, considered Crawley thoroughly
conversant with his duties but the Adjutant General in Bengal, Major General William
Galbraith, a British officer, considered Crawley had a ‘buoyant temperament and
average ability’. In 1892 the Commander-in-Chief, Roberts, concluded that Crawley
was a ‘satisfactory officer without any special qualifications’. By 1893 Major General
38
NLI, Kilmainham 1307, Sandhurst to Horsford, 9 Jan. and 29 Jan. 1875; Fendall to Joyce, 6 Feb.
1875.
39
Ibid., Kilmainham 1310, Steele to Whitmore, 2 and 7 May 1885; Boyle to Young, 12 May 1885;
Young to Boyle, 14 May 1885; Boyle to Young, 19 May 1885; Boyle to Young, 27 Jul. 1885.
40
Ibid., Thesiger to Beckett, 29 Aug. 1887; Beckett to Dormer, 18 Oct. 1887; Dormer to
Beckett, 19 Oct. 1887; Prince Edward to Harman, 20 Oct. 1887.
www.bjmh.org.uk
23
Viscount Frankfort de Montmorency, who had followed Gough in command at
Lahore, reported that Crawley was on sick leave and that he would find it difficult to
suggest any post or command for which Crawley was fitted. Brigadier General
Gerald de Courcy Morton, who was acting Adjutant General in Galbraith’s absence,
concurred, describing Crawley as ‘feeble’ although conceding this might be due to ill
health. Roberts indicated, ‘I do not think this officer is fitted for further employment
on the Staff’.
Yet Crawley survived and, transferred to Allahabad, albeit a lesser post, was found
excellent in all respects by Brigadier General Horace Evans of the Bengal Staff Corps,
commanding there, after two months’ acquaintance in 1894. Back in post as Adjutant
General, Galbraith still felt Crawley below average and that, inexperienced as he was
in dealing with British officers, Evans was ‘naturally impressed by Colonel Crawley’s
knowledge of them, but I cannot concur in his extremely higher estimate’. The
Commander-in-Chief in India, now General Sir George White, also felt Crawley had
‘zeal and considerable experience’, but not ‘the gifts that go to make a high
commander’. Evans duly reported favourably on Crawley again in 1895 to the evident
continuing surprise of Galbraith and White.41
Similarly, there was a clash in 1889 between Major General Henry Davies,
commanding the Cork District, and Lieutenant Colonel Thomas St Clair of the 2nd
Princess Charlotte of Wales’s (Royal Berkshire Regiment). St Clair had reported
adversely on Major Justinian Ponsonby, after which Davies had suggested St Clair
lacked tact and had a temper. St Clair claimed that Davies’s hostility towards him
originated from the time they had served together in Southern District previously,
and that any reported discontent within the regiment was due to his arrival from the
1st Battalion with the intention to introduce reforms. A minor disagreement had led
Ponsonby to complain directly to Davies but, as Ponsonby had apologised, St Clair
had not entered an adverse report on him as when ‘promotion by selection is so
much the rule he feels the seriousness of an unfavourable report’. Davies, in turn,
took strong exception to any idea that he had been influenced by unsubstantiated
reports from within the battalion. The Duke of Cambridge upheld Davies’s report, St
Clair having been reported upon for his temper as far back as 1878.42
Two years later, in July 1891, St Clair suggested that Ponsonby had many good
qualities and, on the face of it, was qualified for promotion. Yet, at the same time, St
Clair was
41
BL, APAC, L/MIL/7/17038, Bengal Reports, 15 Mar. 1891; ibid., Bengal Reports, 15 Mar. 1892;
ibid., Bengal Reports, 15 Mar. 1893; L/MIL/7/17039, Bengal Reports, 15 Mar. 1894; ibid., Bengal Reports, 15
Mar. 1895.
42
NLI, Kilmainham 1311, Davies Report, 6 Aug. 1889; Note by Davies, 29 Sept. 1889; Prince
Edward of Saxe Weimer to Whitmore, 4 Oct. 1889; Beckett to Davies, 19 Oct. 1889.
24
compelled to say that he [Ponsonby] is of a hasty disposition, inclined to
magnify personal matters and to be contentious. He is exceedingly selfish
and vain, and sometimes narrow minded. He has little perseverance at work
which entails discomfort and is too fond of leave and of society. He is not
good at either drill or field work.
Ponsonby’s eyesight was also poor, and St Clair felt that he should not succeed to
command of the battalion. Davies did not agree, arguing that he had always found
Ponsonby smart and efficient, and had no hesitation in recommending him for the
command. For good measure, Ponsonby sent in a medical board report indicating his
eyesight was good. Cambridge again found no reason to question Davies’s
assessment in the light of St Clair’s own record, concluding that Ponsonby was fitted
for promotion.43 As it happened, Davies himself had been admonished by Cambridge
in January 1890 for two seemingly contrary reports on the Assistant Adjutant
General at Cork, Colonel W. Lewis Ogilvy. The last confidential report in June 1889
had been entirely satisfactory yet Ogilvy was now reported as unfitted for his duties.
Cambridge directed Ogilvy either to take more interest in his duties so as to avoid
any further condemnation by Davies, or resign.44
A similar personality clash occurred in December 1891 when Lieutenant Colonel
James Stewart Mackenzie of the 9th Lancers reported unfavourably on Major
Bloomfield Gough following their disagreement over the treatment of a military
prisoner in the regiment. Both had distinguished themselves in the Second Afghan
War but it was known that they were not friends. Lieutenant General James Keith
Fraser, the Inspector General of Cavalry, was unable to offer any view based on
personal observation. He was inclined to believe Gough’s side of the story on the
basis of Gough’s known gallantry. By contrast, Major General Somerset Wiseman
Clarke, commanding the Belfast District, was more ready to back Mackenzie. Given
that Fraser was non committal and Wiseman Clarke’s view unfavourable, Gough was
warned that he should have chosen his reported words to Mackenzie more carefully,
and he must be made aware that further advancement depended on future
satisfactory reports.45
One lasting dispute that was played out in the confidential reports was between
Roberts and Hugh Gough’s brother, Sir Charles Gough. In December 1879 when the
43
Ibid., Kilmainham 1312, St Clair report, 24 Jul. 1891 with comments by Davis; Harman to
Childers, 20 Nov. 1891; Childers to Davis, 23 Jan. 1892.
44
NAM, 1998-06-195, Harman to Davies, 3 Jan. 1890, and Harman to Ogilvy, 3 Jan. 1890.
45
NLI, Kilmainham 1312, Report by Mackenzie, 18 Dec. 1891, with comments but Fraser and
Wiseman Clarke; Gough to Childers, 19 Dec. 1891; Mackenzie to Childers, 21 Dec. 1891; Wolseley to
Harman, 31 Dec. 1891; Childers to Wiseman Clarke, 1 Feb. 1892.
www.bjmh.org.uk
25
then Major General (local Lieutenant General) Sir Frederick Roberts had forced his
way into Kabul following the murder of the British envoy there, his force was
besieged in the Sherpur cantonment. Commanding a brigade on the lines of
communication, the then Brigadier General Charles Gough was ordered to advance
from Jagdalak to reinforce Roberts at Sherpur, some 70 miles away and with snow
thick on the ground, although the peremptory orders from Roberts actually
contradicted those Gough received from his immediate superior, Major General
Robert Bright. Roberts believed that Gough had been unnecessarily slow in taking 12
days to get through to him. In fact, there were fierce attacks on those detachments
Gough had left to defend Jagdalak and other posts.46 Thereafter Roberts seemingly
went out of his way to damage Gough’s reputation despite the latter being praised by
the then Commander-in-Chief, Sir Frederick Haines, and awarded the KCB.
There were derogatory reflections in Roberts’s correspondence, with Roberts doing
his best to ensure Gough would not get the Madras command in 1890, as well as
what Gough took to be a damning slight in Roberts’s autobiography, Forty One Years
in India, published in 1896. But confidential reports also served Roberts’s purpose.
Thus, in 1888, when commanding the Oudh Division, Gough was characterised by
Roberts as able and energetic but, ‘Of his power to act with decision when a crisis
arrives I have some doubt.’ The 1890 report was the same.47
Whatever the drawbacks in the reporting system, it is clear that those officers who
were unsatisfactory were noted. Reports could often be frank, or at least extended
only the faintest qualified praise. An example of the former is the October 1880
report on Lieutenant Louis Carden of the Royal Artillery, namely that, ‘This officer
appears to have little professional zeal. I have not formed a very high opinion of his
capacity as an officer, if he has any he succeeds in disguising it.’ An example of the
second is Wolseley’s comment on Lieutenant Colonel Robert Oxley of the 2nd
Gordon Highlanders in November 1893:
More full of zeal than brains: he seldom leaves the Barracks except on duty
& works unremittingly for his men. If attention to business & unnecessary
care for his Battn. & for its good name & credit could of themselves make a
good C.O., then he ought to be about the best in the Army. But his Battn. is
not well taught in the art of fighting. Col Oxley is an old fashioned officer
46
Brian Robson, The Road to Kabul: The Second Afghan War, 1878-81 (London: Arms and Armour
Press, 1986), pp. 161-65, 178.
47
NAM, Roberts Mss, 7101-23-100-3, Roberts to Stewart, 5 Apl, 30 Aug. and 29 Oct. 1890, and
Roberts to Newmarch, 9 Nov. 1892; ibid., 7101-23-105, Roberts to Gough, 13 Feb. 1897; ibid., Gough Mss,
8304-32, Gough to Roberts, 5 Feb. 1897; Morton to Gough, 16 Mar. 1897; Gough to Harriette Gough, 12
and 28 Dec. 1879; BL, APAC, L/MIL/7/17038, Bengal Reports, 15 Mar. 1888 and 15 Mar. 1890.
26
who seems to think drill the end and instead of being merely a means to an
end.48
Ultimately, of course, what mattered most, as Wolseley and Roberts invariably
stressed, was how an individual performed on the battlefield. Some who had been
praised routinely in successive reports fell short of expectations. Sir John McQueen
had received glowing reports previously but, having failed to conduct the Black
Mountain expedition of 1888 to Roberts’s satisfaction, was now ‘quite the most
unsatisfactory commander I have had to deal with and I would never trust him with
the conduct of another expedition.’49
Similarly, in 1894, Sir George White found Brigadier General Alex Kinloch at
Peshawar ‘altogether a man of considerable mark, which he would probably make
greater on service’. A year later, following Kinloch’s indifferent performance on the
Chitral Relief Expedition, he had greatly disappointed White and ‘shown none of the
dash or enterprise I expected of him’. Redvers Buller suggested privately to White
that Kinloch’s chance had come too late after prolonged Indian service and exposure
to the sun. He should no longer be considered for the Burma command for ‘it would
never do to have a man who proved himself of no use in war, and yet was a great
martinet, and very exigent of his Troops, in peace time’.50 In the same way, the
formerly favourable opinions of Brigadier General Francis Kempster ended with his
perceived failings during the Tirah campaign of 1897 although, perversely, his
immediate superior gave him a very favourable report in 1899 on the grounds of the
‘practical knowledge of his profession gained on active service’.51
Others who routinely received favourable and even admiring reports also failed the
ultimate test including Major General Sir William Gatacre, defeated at Stormberg in
South Africa in December 1899; and Lieutenant General (later Field Marshal) Lord
Methuen, defeated at Magersfontein in the same ‘Black Week’ in South Africa.52 On
the other hand, some men were to fully justify the glowing reports they received,
such as the future General Sir Archibald Alison, who was head of the War Office
Intelligence Department from 1878 to 1882 and commanded at Aldershot from 1883
48
NLI, Kilmainham 1308, Report on Carden, 9 Oct. 1880; ibid, 1313, Report on Oxley, 11 Nov.
1893.
49
NAM, Roberts Mss, 7101-23-148; ibid., 7101-23-98, Roberts to Dufferin, 4 Nov. 1888. See also
ibid., Roberts to Dufferin, 16 Nov. 1888; ibid., 7101-23-100-2, Roberts to Napier, 3 Nov.1 888; ibid., 710123-100-3, Roberts to McQueen, 25 Jul. 1891, and Roberts to Stewart, 18 Aug. 1891.
50
BL, APAC, L/MIL/7/17039, Bengal Reports, 15 Mar. 1895, and Covering Note on Kinloch, 4
Sep. 1895; ibid, White Mss, F108/36, Buller to White, 30 May 1895.
51
Ibid., L/MIL/7/17040, Madras Report, 1 Jan. 1898; ibid., L/MIL/7/17041, Madras Reports, 1 Jan
1899.
52
On Gatacre, for example, see BL, APAC, L/MIL/7/17038, Bengal reports, 15 Mar. 1888; ibid.,
L/MIL/7/17039, Bombay reports, 11 May 1896; for Methuen, TNA, WO 27/489.
www.bjmh.org.uk
27
to 1888; and General Sir William Lockhart, who died in office as Commander-inChief in India in 1900.53
The annual confidential report, therefore, was one of the tools necessarily utilised to
assess officers’ suitability for promotion. They were most certainly noted in the
discussions of the progression of Colonels to the rank of Major General between
1882 and 1887, although this did not always make a great deal of difference. In 1885
Colonel Lord John Taylour was set aside from further promotion, Major General
William Cameron having reported that Taylour had no capacity for command and ‘I
have seldom if ever seen an officer who appears to know less of his work.’ Yet, the
Hon. Savage Mostyn duly got his promotion to Major General despite Cameron’s
equally damning report that he was ‘a good natured nonentity - to whom it would be
dangerous to trust a responsible command’. 54 However, there were many other
factors involved in promotion and appointments.55
Evelyn Wood’s criticism of annual confidential reports was largely justified in that
inspecting officers did tend to identify only the strongest and the weakest officers. As
an officer advanced to command and staff level, his abilities were the more likely to
come under scrutiny by his superiors. Even then, however, the unwillingness of some
senior officers to make proper use of the annual confidential reports, and of others
to draw the right conclusions from them, hampered the efforts of men like Wolseley
and Roberts to advance the very best to high command. That was the nature of the
problem of promotion in the late Victorian army.
53
NLI, Kilmainham 1307, Report on Alison, 16 Aug. 1876; ibid, 1308, Report on Alison, 21 Aug.
1877; BL, APAC, L/MIL/7/17039, Bengal Reports, 15 Mar. 1893; ibid., Bengal Reports, 15 Mar. 1895; ibid.,
L/MIL/7/17040, Bengal Reports, 1 Jan 1898.
54
NAM, 1998-06-197.
55
Ian F. W. Beckett, ‘Kitchener and the Politics of Command’ in Edward Spiers (ed.), Sudan: The
Reconquest Reappraised (London: Frank Cass, 1998), pp. 35-53’ idem, ‘Buller and the Politics of Command’,
in John Gooch (ed.), The Boer War: Direction, Experience and Image (London: Frank Cass, 2000), pp. 41-55;
idem, ‘Women and Patronage in the Late Victorian Army’, History 85 (2000), pp. 463-80; idem, ‘Soldiers,
the Frontier and the Politics of Command in British India’, Small Wars and Insurgencies 16 (2005), pp. 28092.
28
SHOOTING POWER
‘Shooting Power’: A Study of the Effectiveness of
Boer and British Rifle Fire, 1899–1914
SPENCER JONES
University of Wolverhampton
ABSTRACT
The effectiveness of Boer rifle fire had a significant legacy on the
development of British musketry standards. This would prompt
improvements in training which would allow the infantry of the BEF to
cause disproportionate casualties to their German adversaries in 1914.
This paper charts the success of the Boer methods and explains how the
British adapted to the increase in infantry rifle fire.
I
The growing effectiveness of infantry small arms from the mid-19th century onwards
was a recognised influence upon military tactics.1 Although the technical limitations of
early generation rifles reduced their overall effect, by the latter part of the century
the greatly increased lethality of modern weaponry was becoming apparent.2 In large
European armies reliant upon a conscript system that limited the available time for
training and largely precluded the creation of marksmen, sheer weight of fire was
more important than accuracy. For example, Prussian victory over Austria in 1866
had, in part, been influenced by the tactical advantages conferred by the rapid fire of
the Dreyse Needle Gun.3
However, the unique colonial duties of the British Army meant that this emphasis on
rapidity was less appropriate. Warfare fought in the proximity of undeveloped
imperial frontiers made the movement of supplies a herculean challenge. The army
could not afford to be wasteful with its ammunition. In these conditions, rapid
1
For example, see Perry D. Jamieson, Crossing the Deadly Ground: United States Army Tactics,
1865-1899 (Tuscaloosa, University of Alabama Press, 1994).
2
For criticism of the technical capabilities of rifles, see Earl Hess, The Rifle Musket in Civil War
Combat: Reality and Myth (Lawrence, University of Kansas Press, 2008). For recognition of the lethality of
modern firepower, see Ian Hamilton, The Fighting of the Future (London, K.Paul Trench & Co., 1885), p. 14.
3
For example, see Geoffrey Wawro, The Austro-Prussian War: Austria’s War with Prussia and Italy
in 1866 (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1996), p.25, footnote 65.
www.bjmh.org.uk
29
shooting was discouraged and iron fire discipline was enforced. This approach served
the British Army well in a variety of colonial conflicts and, despite a handful of
officers who questioned its validity against a similarly armed opponent, close control
remained the linchpin of British fire tactics for much of the 19th century.4
The limitations of this tactic would be ruthlessly exposed by the unusual conditions
of the Second Anglo-Boer War (1899 – 1902). The Boers possessed a unique military
culture that had no parallels with any of Britain’s other colonial foes. In Colonel
Charles Callwell’s famous treatise on colonial warfare, Small Wars, it was noted that,
as a military force, the Boers defied easy classification.5 The Boers lacked a formally
constituted army and instead relied upon a voluntary militia system, with volunteers
being formed into units known as commandos. 6 Boer citizens responding to the
rallying call were expected to bring their own firearm and horse, thus ensuring that
the force was both well-armed and highly mobile.7 This combination of firepower and
mobility was the defining feature of the Boer military system. The effectiveness of the
Boers in combat had been demonstrated in regular conflicts with local Africans,
where small numbers of burghers had often been able to triumph over far larger
opposition forces.8
Boer firepower would prove to be an important battlefield factor, and the magnitude
of the Second Anglo-Boer War ensured the experience left a deep and lasting
impression upon the British Army. This article will study British impressions of Boer
marksmanship during this major conflict. Although the popular press were quick to
attribute success to natural Boer skills, thoughtful military commentators identified a
variety of factors that contributed to the effectiveness of Boer rifle fire. This study
will examine three key elements that contributed to Boer marksmanship, namely
terrain, culture, and equipment, demonstrating how they combined to produce
unusually effective rifle fire. The chapter will also consider the British impression of
Boer musketry in the aftermath of the war, showing how overall opinion was one of
considerable admiration. This admiration would play an important role in the British
Army’s musketry reforms in the years 1902–1914, which, in turn, contributed to the
4
Concerns were raised following the poor performance of British soldiers in the First Boer
War 1880-1881 but this had little influence on the army as a whole.
5
Charles Callwell, Small Wars: Their Principles and Practice (London, H.M.S.O, 1906), p.31.
Callwell felt that the Boers had more in common with a European guerrilla movement than a typical
colonial foe. F.H.E. Cunliffe, The History of the Boer War (London, Methuen & Co.1901), Vol.1, pp.4-5
argued that the Boer fighting style was adopted from the autochthonous ‘Hottentots’, albeit with the
benefit of modern weapons.
6
For a thorough study of the Boer commando system, see Fransjohan Pretorius, Life on
Commando during the Anglo-Boer War 1899 – 1902 (Cape Town, Human and Rosseau, 1999).
7
Ibid., pp. 80-83. The Afrikaner governments provided rifles to those who did not possess their
own.
8
Frederick Maurice, History of the War in South Africa 1899 – 1902 (London, Hurst and Blackett
Ltd., 1906), Vol.1, pp.68 – 71; Bill Nasson, The South African War (London, Hodder Arnold, 1999), p.64.
30
SHOOTING POWER
famous rifle skills of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) in the opening battles of
the First World War. The article will close with a discussion of British rifle fire in the
opening of this great conflict, demonstrating certain parallels between the experience
of the South African War and the war in Europe.
II
An immediate problem faced by British troops in the Second Anglo-Boer War was
the nature of the terrain and climate. The sheer scale of the geography could be
intimidating to inexperienced troops. Sweeping grass veldt in the east and scrub
desert in the west stretched for miles, occasionally being broken by huge kopjes and
wide rivers. Yet, despite the vastness of the country, effective cover on the veldt was
spartan. Boulders, scrub vegetation and anthills offered some concealment for troops,
but in many battles the attackers were forced to advance over disturbingly open
terrain.9
The incredibly clear atmosphere of the country exacerbated the difficulties posed by
the terrain. Troops who were unaccustomed to the conditions faced particular
difficulty in estimating ranges correctly, but even veteran troops were known to
make serious errors when judging distances.10 This had dangerous implications when
advancing to the attack, as it was easy to misinterpret the range to the enemy
position. For example, confusion over the exact range to the Boer lines played a role
in the destruction of Colonel Long’s battery at the Battle of Colenso on 15
December 1899. On the other hand, the clear atmosphere could offer a great
advantage for the defenders, especially if they occupied a kopje, as they could
observe advancing foes at remarkable distances. Howard Hillegas, an American
journalist attached to the Boer forces, expressed his amazement at the distance at
which advancing British forces could be seen, noting that at long range they
resembled ‘huge ants more than human beings.’11
Afrikaner riflemen took full advantage of these conditions. Well adapted to the clear
atmosphere, the quality of Boer eyesight was a source of much admiration amongst
British troops. One officer commented that the average Boer had ‘magnifying eyes’,
while General Sir Redvers Buller was said to have stated that ‘if a European and Boer
were walking towards each other in an open country, the Boer would see the other
9
For an evocative discussion of the terrain in South Africa, see Count Adalbert Sternberg, My
Experiences of the Boer War (London, Longmans, 1901), pp.204-206.
10
“Jack the Sniper” [Charles James O’Mahony] A Peep Over the Barleycorn: In the Firing Line with
the P.W.O. 2nd West Yorkshire Regiment, Through the Relief of Ladysmith (Dublin, John Drought, 1911), pp.135
– 136; G. Forbes, ‘Experiences in South Africa with a New Range Finder’, Journal of the Royal United
Services Institute, 46/2, (1902), p.1389.
11
Howard Hillegas, The Boers in War (New York, D. Appleton and Company, 1900), p.146
www.bjmh.org.uk
31
two miles in advance.’12 Making use of this natural advantage, the Boers often opened
fire at ranges of well over a mile.13 This long range rifle fire came as an unpleasant
surprise to British troops, who were not trained to fire at ranges above 800 yards.14
Furthermore, pre-war British tactics had assumed that it would be possible for
infantry to advance to within approximately half a mile of the enemy’s position before
it became necessary to shake out into extended order, and did not anticipate
receiving anything but desultory enemy fire beyond 1,500 yards range.15 This was not
the case in South Africa, where British formations were often engaged at ranges of
2,000 yards or more.16 Officers recorded their alarm at this tactical development,
with one noting:
War is not what it was when armies manoeuvred in sight of each other, and
when 600 yards was the limit of artillery fire ... That was old-time fighting,
and some sport about it too. Now Bill is killed at 2,400 yards, and Bill’s pal
hasn’t an idea where the shot was fired. That is modern warfare.17
Such long range fire could be especially problematic for cavalry, who were initially
armed with carbines that had a maximum range of 1,200 yards. Lieutenant-General
Sir Charles Warren complained that the ‘Boers had only to keep at 2,000 yards from
our cavalry in the hills and could shoot them down with impunity’.18
However, even in the clear atmosphere of South Africa, it took an exceptional
marksman to hit the target reliably at long range. Observers noted that Boer longdistance fire tended to be erratic unless the range to the target had been established
in some fashion. This could take the form of crack shots firing ranging shots and
communicating the distance to their comrades. Artillery was also used to establish
the range, and so were nearby geographical features.19 Once the range had been
established, the fire was considerably more effective. For example, at the Battle of
Willow Grange on 22 November 1899, the West Yorkshire Regiment reported:
12
Quoted in Jack, Peep over the Barleycorn, p. 192.
The Boers were also capable of holding their fire until close range. See Pretorius, Life on
Commando, pp. 139-140.
14
H.R. Mead, ‘Notes on Musketry Training of Troops’, Journal of the Royal United Services Institute,
43/1 (1899), pp. 250-251.
15
War Office, Infantry Drill Book 1896 (London, H.M.S.O., 1896), p.131.
16
The Official Records of the Guards’ Brigade in South Africa (London, J.J. Keliher, 1904), p.18;
William Balck, ‘Lessons of the Boer War and Battle Workings of the Three Arms’, Journal of the Royal
United Services Institute, 48/2, (1904), pp.1273-1274.
17
‘Not by a Staff Officer’, ‘Some Remarks on Recent Changes’, United Service Magazine, October
1904, p.47.
18
Report of His Majesty’s Commissioners Appointed to Inquire into the Military Preparations and Other
Matters Connected with the War in South Africa (London, H.M.S.O., 1903), Cmd No.1789 – 1792, Vol.2,
Q15850, p.233 (Hereafter referred to as the Elgin Commission).
19
Elgin Commission, vol.1, Q 6860, p. 294.
13
32
SHOOTING POWER
for about one and a-half hours the Boers kept up an ineffective fire on our
position, only one man being hit. The Boers then brought up a VickersMaxim at about 1,800 yards range, and very quickly found our range, and
after that their musketry became very effective ... The position under this
fire quickly became untenable.20
Long range Boer shooting was particularly dangerous to dense formations. When
Lord Roberts took command of British forces in South Africa, his tactical ‘Notes for
Guidance’ urged infantry to adopt extended formations between 1,500 and 1,800
yards from Boer positions, effectively doubling the distance set down in the pre-war
regulations.21 In practice a number of units chose to abandon close order at even
greater distances. For example, Major-General Henry Colvile, commanding Guards’
Brigade, favoured shaking into extended order at 2,500 yards.22
However, despite its capacity to cause losses at huge ranges, Boer long range fire
was rarely decisive on its own. Casualties at such range were often more a matter of
luck than judgement. For example, Lieutenant-General Sir Archibald Hunter
commented that he believed the effectiveness of long range fire was ‘mythical’ and
related that he had regularly patrolled the Ladysmith perimeter in full general’s
uniform, secure in the knowledge that none of the besieging Boers would be capable
of hitting him!23
The main battlefield function of Boer long range fire was to slow down the pace of
the British advance by forcing them to adopt extended formations at great distances
from the Boer position. 24 Once under fire, battlefield manoeuvre became
considerably more difficult and any element of surprise was lost. A journalist
attached to Lord Methuen’s force described this kind of action, writing that the
series of attacks during the attempt to relieve Kimberly in November 1899 consisted
of ‘no beastly strategy, or tactics, or outlandish tricks of any sort; nothing but an
honest, straightforward British march up to a row of waiting rifles.’25 This could be a
trying experience for British troops, and it was worsened by the fact that the source
of the fire was usually invisible. Part of the reason for this was the use of smokeless
20
Extract from the Digest of Service of the 2nd Battalion The Prince of Wales’s Own (West Yorkshire
Regt.) in South Africa (York, Yorkshire Herald Newspaper, 1903), p. 4. The Vickers-Maxim was an
autocannon that fired small explosive shells. It was commonly referred to as a ‘pom pom gun’ due to its
distinctive sound when firing.
21
National Archives of the UK (NAUK), Kew, London, WO 105/40, Lord Roberts Papers,
‘Notes for Guidance in South African Warfare’, 26 January 1900.
22
Records of Guards’ Brigade, p. 19.
23
Elgin Commission, vol. 2, Q 14587, Q 14588, p. 138.
24
Ibid., vol. 2, Q 19200, p. 397.
25
L.M. Phillips, With Rimington, (London, E. Arnold, 1902), p. 10.
www.bjmh.org.uk
33
powder, which will be discussed in detail below, but it was also due in large part to
the military culture of the Boers.
The commandos were essentially a force of individual riflemen, many of whom
wielded their own personal weapons. Although officers were a key part of the
commando, there was no drill or training to inculcate obedience to orders or the use
of particular formations.26 The Boers had neither the discipline nor the inclination to
adopt formal European formations for either attack or defence. Instead, commandos
tended to fight as a loose group of skirmishers, with individual burghers choosing
their own cover and frequently picking their own targets. 27 The lack of formal
organization in the Boer fighting line allowed it to take advantage of available cover
and thus blend into the countryside with remarkable skill. Ruminating on his combat
experiences, Major-General Geoffrey Barton commented that the Boers were
‘extraordinarily well trained by nature and habit to lie still.’28
The individualistic military culture of the Boers stood in stark contrast to the
traditional British approach. Although attitudes differed from unit to unit, much of
the British Army favoured close control, volley fire and strict discipline.29 Although
these ideas had proved useful in previous colonial wars, they required adaptation to
make them effective in South Africa. Henry Colvile commented on his wartime
experiences of conservative attitudes in Guards’ Brigade:
At first officers and men were very stupid about taking cover. I have seen
men halted on a rise in full view of the enemy when a few paces forward or
backward would have placed them in shelter, the reason being that to have
taken this step would have broken the dressing of the line.30
A combination of British inexperience in taking cover and the relative invisibility of
Boer positions magnified the effectiveness of Boer fire. The Boers were able to
observe and engage the British forces without revealing themselves; for the British
coming under fire from an unknown source was a disturbing experience and often
necessitated a delay in the attack until its location could be pinpointed. 31
Furthermore, the British were troubled by the inability to gauge the effect of their
26
Maurice, History of the War, vol.1, p. 86.
Balck, ‘Lessons of the War’, pp. 1272 – 1273.
28
29
For a discussion of this issue, see Edward Spiers, The Late Victorian Army, 1868–1902
(Manchester, University of Manchester Press 1992), pp. 313-315. Reactionary pre-war attitudes were
mercilessly lampooned in ‘George D’Ordel’ [Mark Sykes & Edmund Sandars] Tactics and Military Training
(London, Bickers and Son, 1904).
30
Elgin Commission, vol. 2, Q 16974, p. 286.
31
Jay Stone and Erwin Schmidl, The Boer War and Military Reforms (Lanham, University Press of
America, 1988), p. 80.
27
34
SHOOTING POWER
own fire against relatively invisible opposition, especially as the evidence of the Boer’s
shooting was plain to see. Major-General Neville Lyttleton contrasted previous
colonial experience with the new conditions, writing of the Battle of Colenso:
Few people have seen two battles in succession in such startling contrast as
Omdurman and Colenso. In the first 50,000 fanatics streamed across the
open regardless of cover to a certain death, while at Colenso I never saw a
Boer all day till the battle was over, and it was our men who were the
victims.32
Colonel E.E. Carr echoed similar sentiments, noting that during most fire fights his
troops were forced to shoot purely at geographic features to try and suppress
enemy fire, whereas the Boer usually had a clear target:
They do not fire unless they are pretty certain you are there; I do not say
they always see you; although the difficulty is that we cannot see them and
they can see us, they can see us for miles; but we seldom see them.33
A private soldier, Charles James O’Mahony, expressed his frustrations with such
fighting after the defeat at the Battle of Willow Grange, writing:
We were much handicapped for the Boers take cover in a manner never to
be equalled ... we sprayed every nook, crevice, donga, spruit etc. on and
surrounding the Boer position with lead as if from a watering can, rocks
being splintered two miles in the kopjes rear.34
In stark contrast, Izak Meyer, a Boer veteran, described his experience of combat at
the Battle of Modder River 28 November 1899 in the following terms:
Now I am deadly calm, and with deadly calm I pick my man, pick them one
by one. I pick him, my Mauser drops, my left eye closes, I get him in my
sights and my Mauser cracks. The Englishman totters, drops his rifle, grabs
his chest ... I shoot them down, one after another, one after another.35
32
Neville Lyttleton, Eighty Years: Soldiering, Politics, Games (London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1927),
p. 212.
33
34
35
Jack, Peep over the Barleycorn, pp. 74-75.
Quoted in Pretorius, Life on Commando, p. 141.
www.bjmh.org.uk
35
The ability of the Boers to fight from behind cover was especially useful during
extended fire fights at close range.36 In the early stages of the war, some British units
attempted to use volleys during fire fights, but it was soon found that the slow, static
nature of volley firing proved ineffective against dispersed and concealed enemies.37
By contrast the Boers proved especially adept at ‘snap shooting’, leaning out from
behind cover only long enough to acquire a target and fire, and then ducking out of
sight once more. J.B. Atkins, a British journalist, witnessed snap shooting at the Battle
of Hart’s Hill, 23 February 1900, writing: ‘Boer heads and elbows shot up and down;
the defenders were aiming, firing, ducking’.38 Faced with these conditions, the British
were forced to adopt a far greater degree of independent firing themselves. 39
Unfortunately, pre-war training had done little to prepare the average soldier for this
type of action, and, combined with the difficulties of atmosphere and the relative
invisibility of many of the Boer positions, this made fire fights a difficult proposition.
Major-General Sir William Gatacre noted the difference in fighting style:
[The average British soldier] was rather slow in getting his aim, and he found
he was unaccustomed to use his rifle without exposing himself, which at
once brought a Mauser bullet in his direction ... The Boer, on the contrary,
was particularly good at getting his bead on to the enemy’s hat or mess tin
quickly, and in getting covered again before men could aim and fire.40
It was within fire fight range that the majority of British officers felt the Boers had
truly demonstrated their marksmanship skills. Major-General J.P. Brabazon argued
‘where they beat us so completely was that when we got onto kopjes at close
quarters, say, a few hundred yards, a man could not put a finger up over a rock or
ridge without being shot.’ 41 Major-General A.H. Paget related his front line
experience at the Battle of Modder River, noting that ‘[i]n these early fights [the
Boers’] shooting was very accurate; every bullet had some mark, and there was no
wild shooting at all, and when we got to the closer ranges, in places which were fire
swept, everybody was hit.’42 E.E. Carr recalled the difficulty of assaulting Boers in
strong defensive positions, stating ‘I have seen men rolled over like rabbits and
36
Opinions differed as to what exactly constituted ‘close range’ in the Anglo-Boer War. In the
aftermath of the war, British regulations codified a range 600 yards or less as ‘decisive’ range for fire fights.
See War Office, Combined Training 1905 (London, H.M.S.O. 1905), p. 100.
37
For a graphic description of the difficulties of engaging concealed Boers with volleys, see Jack,
Peep over the Barelycorn, pp. 71-72.
38
J.B. Atkins, The Relief of Ladysmith (London, Methuen, 1900), p. 295.
39
Jack, Peep over the Barleycorn, p. 73.
40
41
Ibid., vol.1, Q 6859, p. 294.
42
Ibid., vol. 2, Q 16441, p. 259.
36
SHOOTING POWER
slaughtered, as the Inniskillings Fusiliers were at Pieter’s Hill on the first attempt just
before the relief of Ladysmith’.43
In intense fire fights, the skill of individual Boer marksmen could be striking. Colonel
Forbes MacBean noted the presence of ‘a certain percentage of men who are
uncommonly good shots’ in the average Boer firing line.44 These elite marksmen
were capable of causing disproportionate casualties. Henry Colvile noted ‘the Boers
had a certain number of picked shots who did great damage’, while A.H. Paget
echoed the view, commenting that ‘some of the shooting of the Boers was
extraordinary.’45 Even Archibald Hunter acknowledged the presence of crack shots
amongst Boer forces, relating that ‘[t]here are certain shots who have earned their
living as professional hunters, and from 200 yards to 300 yards [range] they are
undoubtedly marvellous shots.’46
The skills of these marksmen were often attributed to frontier life and the popularity
of game hunting.47 However, game had been in decline throughout the 1880s and
1890s.48 Furthermore, the growth of urban centres in the Transvaal and Orange Free
State during the 1880s and 1890s meant that Boer forces contained a proportion of
city-based volunteers who were unlikely to be natural riflemen.49 Nevertheless, rifle
culture remained a source of fascination in the Boer republics in the years prior to
the war.50 Howard Hillegas felt that rifle shooting was the ‘chief amusement’ in the
Transvaal in the 1890s, writing that the ‘demand for rifle ammunition was constant,
and firing at marks may almost be said to have taken the place occupied by billiards in
Europe.’ 51 Furthermore, beginning in the early 1890s and intensifying in the
aftermath of the botched Jameson Raid of 1895, the governments of the Boer
republics put renewed emphasis on promoting rifle culture. Major-General Sir
Frederick Maurice noted of this policy that ‘[e]very effort, in short, was made to
preserve the old skill and interest in rifle-shooting, which it was feared would vanish
with the vanishing elands and gemsbok. If the skill had diminished, the interest had
not.’52
43
Ibid.,, vol. 2, Q 19198, p. 397. Colonel Carr appears to have confused the attacks at Hart’s Hill
(23 February 1900) and Pieter’s Hill (27 February 1900). The Inniskillings Fusiliers suffered severe
casualties at Hart’s Hill but were not involved at Pieter’s Hill. I am grateful to Ken Gillings for supplying
this information.
44
45
Ibid., vol. 2, Q 16440, p. 259; Q 16989, p. 292.
46
Ibid., vol. 2, Q 14585, p. 138.
47
Ibid., vol. 2, Q 21950, p. 564.
48
NAUK, WO 33/154, Military Notes on the Dutch Republics of South Africa, p. 49.
49
Hillegas, Boers in War, pp. 19-20.
50
Maurice, History of the War, vol. 1, p. 80.
51
Hillegas, Boers in War, pp. 19-20.
52
Maurice, History of the War, p. 80.
www.bjmh.org.uk
37
Nevertheless, not all Boers were gifted marksmen and their shooting could
sometimes be wild. However, the fact that the majority of burghers were equipped
with modern magazine loading Mauser rifles helped to offset any disadvantages due
to lack of individual accuracy. Less talented riflemen could make up for this deficiency
through sheer volume of fire. As J.P. Brabazon noted, ‘[i]f you pump lead in a certain
direction at a proper distance you must hit somebody.’53 Charles Callwell saw the
magazine rifle as the key element of Boer War tactics, noting that, due to its rate of
fire,
a mere handful of men, lying down under shelter, can bring such a hail of
bullets to bear upon ground extending for a considerable distance to their
front that hostile troops attempting to cross this will suffer appalling losses
in doing so, even if they succeed in the venture.54
Facing such rapid fire could be a harrowing experience for soldiers in the front line.
An officer of the 60th Rifles recorded his experience at the Battle of Talana Hill:
I don’t suppose I am ever likely to go through a more awful fire than broke
out from the Boer line as we dashed forward. The ground in front of me
was literally rising in dust from the bullets, and the din echoing between the
hill and the wood below and among the rocks from the incessant fire of the
Mausers seemed to blend with every other sound into a long drawn-out
hideous roar ... the whole ground we had already covered was strewn with
bodies.55
The modern rifles of the Boers offered additional advantages beyond rate of fire.
The flat trajectory of the weapons made them more accurate and allowed the Boers
to create deadly fire swept zones at battles such as Modder River and
Magersfontein.56 Indeed, at Magersfontein, the Boers had sited their main position at
the base of a kopje, partially as means of taking advantage of the sweeping effect of
flat trajectory fire.57 In addition, the Mauser rifle benefited from the use of smokeless
powder, meaning that there was no tell-tale puff of smoke to reveal a firer’s location.
This was a critical advantage and greatly enhanced the ability of the Boers to fight
from behind cover. Charles Callwell considered it the decisive element of Boer
marksmanship, arguing:
53
Charles Callwell, The Tactics of Today (Edinburgh, William Blackwood 1903), pp. 31-32.
55
Quoted in Leo Amery, The Times History of the War in South Africa (London, Sampson, Lowe
Marston & Company, 1902), vol. 2, p. 164.
56
The Battle of Magersfontein was fought on 11 December 1899.
57
G.R. Duxbury, The Battle of Magersfontein 11th December 1899 (Johannesburg, S.A. National
Museum of Military History 1995), p. 2.
54
38
SHOOTING POWER
The disappearance of black powder has exerted a far more potent influence
in moulding tactics into a new shape than the increased power and accuracy
or the rapid fire of the modern rifle and gun. Concealment has been so
greatly facilitated by this that it has gained a new and commanding
importance. It was a standing grievance in South Africa that the Boers could
only be heard and not seen.58
There had been some consideration of the effects of modern rifles within the British
Army prior to the outbreak of the war, but such discussions had produced few
tactical changes. 59 Interestingly, Sir John Ardagh, Director of Military Intelligence,
argued prior to the conflict that the fact that the British were armed with smokeless,
flat trajectory rifles would help to offset the dangers posed by natural Boer
marksmanship, stating that modern weapons had ‘much diminished the advantage
offered by accuracy in judging distances.’60 In fact, the advantages of modern rifles had
the effect of greatly magnifying Boer strengths. Long range, flat trajectory rifles
allowed the Boers to engage at great distances; the use of smokeless powder vastly
enhanced the Boer’s capacity for fighting from behind cover and improved individual
accuracy; and the use of magazine loading allowed a far greater rate of fire to be
maintained. Expert marksmen could benefit from the range and accuracy of their
rifles, while less talented Boers could make up for lack of individual skill with sheer
weight of fire. Despite wielding a weapon of similar quality, the British Army enjoyed
few advantages by comparison. Lord Methuen offered a bleak assessment of the issue:
The shooting of the Regular troops was conducted under exceptional
difficulties on account of the clearness of the atmosphere and because the
enemy offered no good target, but my opinion gained during my experience
of the Tirah and the South African campaigns is that the shooting of our
infantry is not worthy of the accuracy and the long range powers possessed
by the present rifle.61
The combination of Boer rifle culture and modern magazine rifles lay at the core of
many British tactical problems in the Second Anglo-Boer War. Frontal attacks against
Boer positions frequently suffered heavy losses, and it took a considerable degree of
in-theatre learning before the British Army was able to gain the upper hand on the
58
59
60
61
Callwell, Tactics of Today, p. 7.
Spiers, Late Victorian Army, p. 315.
NAUK, WO 33/154, Military Notes on the Dutch Republics of South Africa, p. 50.
Elgin Commission, Q 14188, p. 121.
www.bjmh.org.uk
39
battlefield. 62 The effectiveness of Boer firepower necessitated a profound
reconsideration of assault tactics, with a fresh emphasis on dispersed attack
formations, prolonged artillery support and flanking movements.
III
In the aftermath of the conflict, the topic of Boer shooting was much discussed at the
Royal Commission on the South African War. Twenty-one witnesses were
questioned directly about Boer marksmanship and others spoke on the topic in
general terms. Interestingly, several officers cast aspersions on the quality of Boer
marksmanship. Colonel A.W. Thorneycroft and Major-General Sir H.M.L. Rundle
both considered that Boer shooting had much declined from the First Anglo-Boer
War, although both acknowledged that it still remained superior to that of their own
soldiers.63 Redvers Buller actually considered that British shooting was superior to
that of the Boers.64 Major-General Sir H.J.T. Hildyard thought that the marksmanship
of his troops was comparable to that of the Boers, a view echoed by Forbes
MacBean and Henry Colvile.65 However, all but one critical witness qualified their
statements on the topic.66 For example, Buller only considered British shooting to be
superior if the British knew the range to the enemy position, a comparatively rare
experience for much of the war. 67 Hildyard acknowledged his view was only an
impression and ‘was a very difficult thing to prove’.68 MacBean admitted that he
considered Boer fire to be of ‘a fairly high average’ and recognised the presence of
dangerous sharpshooters amongst the commandos.69 Colvile attempted to argue that
the British shooting was as good as the Boers, but that the hitting was worse, due to
the Boers’ ubiquitous use of cover!70
However, the majority of witnesses praised Boer marksmanship, albeit sometimes
grudgingly. Major-General Sir Bruce Hamilton directly refuted Henry Colvile’s
evidence, arguing that Boer shooting was considerably superior.71 When questioned
by the commissioners as to the reason for the divergent views on the quality of Boer
shooting, Hamilton responded perceptively: ‘I think British officers are very anxious
62
For discussion of this aspect of the campaign, see Thomas Pakenham, The Boer War (London,
Wedenfeld and Nicolson, 1979) and Stephen M. Miller, Lord Methuen and the British Army: Failure and
Redemption in South Africa (London, Frank Cass, 1999).
63
Elgin Commission, vol. 2, Q 12440, p. 19; Q 17879, p. 331.
64
Ibid., Q 14383, p. 212.
65
Ibid., Q 15982, p. 241; Q 16988, p. 292; Q 19593, p .415.
66
The only witness who was unequivocal in his criticism of Boer marksmanship was Colonel
Alexander Thorneycroft.
67
Ibid., Q 15483, p. 212.
68
Ibid., Q 15982, p. 241.
69
Ibid., Q 19593, p. 415.
70
Ibid., Q 16988, p. 202.
71
Ibid., Q 17482, p. 314.
40
SHOOTING POWER
to stick up for the shooting of their men.’72 A.H. Paget had much praise for Boer
shooting, noting ‘I am going more not by what I saw when I had a higher command,
but what I saw when I was in the fighting line myself ... I was in the fighting line and
saw everything that was going on, and certainly the Boer shooting was very good
indeed.’73 However, senior officers often had praise for Boer marksmanship; Charles
Warren and William Gatacre both considered it to have been superior to that of the
British.74 Lord Kitchener saw Boer rifle culture as the key element in Boer success:
Our men were not as quick and accurate as their opponents in shooting
rapidly, but they had not been trained for this during peace time, and could
not, therefore be expected to excel in what the Boers had learned to
practice from childhood.75
Lord Roberts was highly critical of British musketry in comparison to that of the
Boers, arguing that the average British soldier:
was the exact opposite of the Boer, especially in his want of knowledge of
the ground and how to utilise it, and in his defective powers of observation.
His shooting cannot be described as good ... there was no real
marksmanship ... The shooting at short ranges ... was ineffective, and at long
ranges the distance was seldom accurately estimated.76
The final report of the Royal Commission concluded that Boer marksmanship had
been superior to that of the British, identifying the capacity of the Boers to fight from
behind cover, their superior skill in judging distances and ability to hit fleeting targets
as critical factors.77
The value of skilful marksmen wielding modern weaponry was clear to many veterans
of the conflict. Alexander Thorneycroft considered it an ‘essential point’ from the
war, arguing that ‘[w]hen you get to a decisive range, say 300 yards, if your men are
first-class shots with good fire sights on their rifles for close shooting, you are at an
enormous advantage.’78 Ian Hamilton went even further, arguing that Britain should
take inspiration from the Boer military system and adapt it to her own needs:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
Ibid., Q 17479, p. 314.
Ibid., Q 16445, 16446, p. 259.
Ibid., Q 15660, p. 224; Q 16772, p. 272.
Ibid., vol. 1, Q 173, p. 7.
Ibid., vol. 2, Q 10442, p. 440.
Ibid., vol. 4, p. 48.
Ibid, vol. 2, Q 12435, p. 19.
www.bjmh.org.uk
41
I believe that an army composed of individuals each so highly trained as to
be able to take full advantage of the terrain, and of his wonderful modern
weapon, and each animated with a morale and trained to an efficiency which
will make him capable of acting in battle on his own initiative, will break
through, scatter, and demolish less efficient opposing forces, even if greatly
superior in numbers.79
The British Army underwent considerable tactical reform in the aftermath of the
conflict, with a particular focus on improving marksmanship.80 In 1902, Lord Roberts
stated that the first object in the training of a soldier was ‘to make him a good
shot.’81 To this end, the old system of volley firing was abandoned and was replaced
with training that aimed to make each soldier an effective individual rifleman.
Between 1902 and 1906 each man was assigned 300 rounds per annum for training.
Although this figure fell to 250 rounds per year from 1906 onwards, it was still well
in advance of continental armies.82 For example, a German infantryman was assigned
between 60 and 100 rounds in their first year and 42 rounds in their second year.83
British musketry training was heavily based on the experience of the Second AngloBoer War. There was a concerted effort to mimic the skills of the Boers, with an
emphasis on ‘snap shooting’, firing from behind cover and engaging fleeting targets at
unknown distances.84 The culmination of British marksmanship training was the ‘Mad
Minute’, in which a soldier was required to fire fifteen aimed rounds at a target at
least three hundred yards distant within sixty seconds. This famous exercise was
directly inspired by the effectiveness of sudden, intense bursts of fire in South
Africa.85
Admiration of the rifle culture of the Boers prompted some authors to urge that
attempts be made to inculcate a similar attitude towards guns within the British
Empire.86 Although this was impractical for the bulk of British civilian society, there
was a marked change towards rifle training within the British Army. Writing in 1904,
an anonymous officer noted with satisfaction: ‘[g]reater interest is now shown by
79
Ibid., Q 13941, p. 107.
For a fuller discussion of the reforms of this period, see Spencer Jones, From Boer War to World
War: Tactical Reform in the British Army 1902–1914 (Norman, University of Oklahoma Press, 2012).
81
Quoted in ‘K.’, ‘Suggestions for the Improvement of the Annual Course of Musketry’, United
Service Magazine, June 1904, p. 300.
82
Jones, Boer War to World War, pp.92-93.
83
Frank Bucholz, Joe Robinson & Janet Robinson, The Great War Dawning: Germany and its Army at
the Start of World War I (Vienna, Verlag Militaria, 2013), p.204.
84
War Office, Musketry Regulations Part 1, 1909 (London, H.M.S.O. 1909), pp. 258 – 261.
85
Joint Services Command and Staff College Library, Report on a Conference of General Staff
Officers at the Staff College, 2-11 January 1906, p. 118.
86
J. Peters, ‘Teach the Boys to Shoot’, United Service Magazine, March 1904, pp. 598 – 601.
80
42
SHOOTING POWER
everybody, especially by the private soldier, and the keenness displayed by all ranks is
as great as could be desired.’87 Particular pride was attached to the completion of the
‘Mad Minute’ exercise, which was generally considered to be the true test of a
marksman.88 The award of coveted marksmanship badges and extra pay for soldiers
who had reached the required standard further encouraged training and
development. Individual training was supplemented by a wide variety of rifle
competitions, many of which attracted considerable participation.89 Indeed, by 1913,
some of the competitions were attracting so many entrants that they were in danger
of becoming unmanageable.90
On the eve of war in 1914 the British Army had established a well-deserved
reputation for the quality of its marksmanship. On hearing news of the outbreak of
the conflict, Captain Richard Meinertzhagen noted in his diary: ‘Our Expeditionary
Force is terribly small, but a mighty weapon, for every soldier can shoot and every
man is determined to fight. The Germans will soon find that out. We are not the
solders of the South African War.’91 This bullish assessment would be put to the test
during the battles that marked the opening of the First World War.
IV
The conditions of warfare in Europe in 1914 were markedly different from those that
the British had faced in South Africa. The most obvious difference was the terrain.
Whereas the open country and clear atmosphere of southern Africa had been ideal
for long range sniping, the fighting in Europe took place amongst towns, villages,
farms and woodland that drastically reduced visible range. The initial British battle of
the campaign, Mons (23 August), marked the first time that the army had fought a
major engagement in an industrial urban environment.92 Similarly, the intense combat
at the Battle of Ypres (19 October – 22 November) took place amidst dense terrain
characterised by thick woodland dotted with villages and farmsteads. Even during
battles where the terrain was comparatively open, such as Le Cateau (26 August),
the rolling fields created dead ground that reduced the ability of the British to engage
at long range.
87
‘K.’, ‘Annual Course of Musketry’, p. 300.
Richard Van Emden (ed.), Tickled to Death to Go: Memories of a Cavalryman in the First World War
(Staplehurt, Spellmount, 1996), p. 24.
89
The Smith-Dorrien Cup and the Evelyn Wood Cup were two particularly popular events.
90
NAUK, WO 279/32, Aldershot Command Papers, Comments on the Training Season 1913,
p.11.
91
Richard Meinertzhagen, Army Diary 1899 - 1926 (Edinburgh, Oliver & Boyd, 1960) p.80.
92
James Edmonds, Military Operations: France and Belgium 1914, vol.1, (London, Macmillan & Co.,
1933) p.72. (Hereafter Official History).
88
www.bjmh.org.uk
43
British pre-war regulations considered rifle fire to be ‘decisive’ within 600 yards, and
‘effective’ between 600 and 1400 yards. 93 At the opening of the war, infantry
frequently opened fire at this latter range when the opportunity presented itself.
Some officers recorded their disappointment at the lack of casualties this long range
shooting caused, but others perceived that, as in the Boer War, its principal value
was to delay and disrupt the advance of the enemy rather than kill or wound
individuals. For example, Malcolm Hay of the Gordon Highlanders recorded that his
company opened fire at a German column at 1200 yards at the Battle of Mons:
It was impossible to resist the temptation to open fire with the hope of
breaking up the column formation and thus delaying the reinforcement
operations….All our shots seemed to have gone too high and none found a
billet, but the enemy made no further attempt to leave the wood in close
formation.94
Hay also recorded his men engaging Germans at a range of 900 yards at the Battle of
Le Cateau, noting ‘the shooting of the battalion was good enough to delay the
enemy’s advance’.95
Whilst the openness of the terrain in South Africa had assisted the Boers, in France
and Flanders the British took advantage of the opportunities for concealment
provided by the plentiful cover. A sergeant of the Lincolnshires recalled his men
occupying swiftly constructed slit trenches at Mons, nothing that these were ‘a trick
we learned from the Boers, I believe’, adding:
We lay in our trenches with not a sound or sign to tell them [the Germans]
what was before them. They crept nearer and nearer, and then our officers
gave the word. Under the storm of bullets they seemed to stagger like
drunken men.96
A German jaeger officer recalled of the British at Le Cateau: ‘They were wily soldiers,
tough and tenacious fellows, with iron nerves, even when wounded. They shot well
and understood how to use terrain with such skill that it was difficult even for jaeger
to detect them.’97 British ability to remain concealed meant that it was possible to
hold fire until German troops had reached close range before surprising them with a
93
War Office, Combined Training 1905 (London, H.M.S.O. 1905), p. 100.
‘An Exchanged Officer’, [Malcom Hay] Wounded and a Prisoner of War, (London, Blackwood &
Sons, 1916), p.37.
95
Ibid, p.63.
96
Arthur St. John Adcock, In The Firing Line (London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1914), p.24.
97
Quoted in Zuber, The Mons Myth: A Reassessment of the Battle (Stroud, History Press, 2010),
p.229.
94
44
SHOOTING POWER
fusillade. Indeed, it was sudden bursts of fire within 600 yards - the ‘decisive’ range –
that would prove most effective in 1914. This was especially apparent during the
ferocious fighting at the Battle of Ypres, when inexperienced German infantry was
exposed to harrowing musketry from concealed British veterans. John Lucy of the
Royal Irish Rifles wrote a graphic account:
Their [The Germans’] whole attack was aslant…badly directed, and their
men not yet extended in lines. What tactics! We let them have it. We
blasted and blew them to death. They fell in scores, in hundreds, the
marching column wilting away under our rapid fire… Crowds of Germans at
close range were plugged easily and rapidly by every one of us. The riflemen
shouted as they fired ‘Come on boys. Let ‘em have it,’ and the attack
spluttered out, leaving lines and circles of corpses and wounded…98
One German survivor complained: ‘Unthinking, section after section ran into the
well-directed fire of experienced troops. Every effort had been put into our training,
but it was completely inadequate preparation for such a serious assault on battlehardened, long service colonial soldiers.’99 A German semi-official account of the
battle published in 1917 attributed British success to large numbers of machine guns,
giving evidence to the famous claim in the Official History that the Germans mistook
British rapid rifle fire for that of machine guns.100
As in South Africa, the effectiveness of British rifle fire owed as much to weight and
rapidity as it did to individual accuracy. However, the BEF did possess its share of
expert shots who, much like the Boer marksmen of the earlier war, could have a
disproportionate effect. At the Battle of Mons, the Lincolnshire sergeant recalled that:
‘a few of the crack shots were told off to indulge in independent firing for the benefit
of the Germans. That is another trick taught us by Brother Boer, and our Germans
did not like it at all.’ The Official History recorded that a single subaltern of the Royal
Scots claimed to have ‘hit thirty to forty’ Germans at the Battle of Le Cateau.101 At
the same engagement an officer of the Hampshire Regiment related ‘The best
marksmen of D Company were able to pick off some of the machine gun crews and
occasional officers who marked themselves out by carrying drawn swords.’102 During
an attack in early November during the Battle of Ypres, an officer of the German
136th Infantry Regiment recalled:
98
John Lucy, There’s a Devil in the Drum (London, Faber & Faber, 1938), pp.224-225.
Jack Sheldon, The Germany Army at Ypres 1914 (Barnsley, Pen & Sword, 2010) p.105.
100
G.C.W. [translator] Ypres 1914: An Official Account Published by Order of the German General
Staff (London, Constable & Company Ltd, 1919) p.11; Edmonds, Official History 1914, pp.462-463.
101
Edmonds, Official History 1914, vol.1, p.184.
102
Nigel Cave & Jack Sheldon, Le Cateau: 26 August 1914 (Barnsley, Pen & Sword, 2008), p.151.
99
www.bjmh.org.uk
45
Schweinberg, joining in, was just about to fire when, a British soldier swung
round in a standing position suddenly and shot at him. He immediately felt a
burning sensation in his head, but luckily the bullet had only creased him.
This accuracy shown by the long service British soldiers with colonial
experience who were deployed opposite the company, verged on the
miraculous.103
Overall, the British benefited from a similar combination of factors to those which
had influenced the Boer marksmen of the earlier war. The British took advantage of
the terrain of Europe, which allowed them to remain concealed and achieve surprise
when they opened fire; they possessed a culture of marksmanship that emphasised
both accuracy and rapidity which had been codified by thorough pre-war training;
and they were equipped with reliable weapons, namely the efficient Short Magazine
Lee Enfield rifle, which allowed British fire tactics to be implemented. Taken as a
whole, these factors contributed to highly effective British rifle fire throughout the
battles of 1914. The importance of this battlefield asset should not be
underestimated. The BEF was a small, relatively fragile instrument, with comparatively
light artillery support and a distinct absence of mortars, grenades and other weapons
suitable for positional warfare.104 Lacking these assets, the British Army placed much
reliance upon the tactical effectiveness of its infantry fire. The confidence was not
misplaced and the impressive battlefield performance of the BEF in 1914 owes a great
deal to, in the words of General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, ‘the shooting power of
our infantry’.105
The origins of this ‘shooting power’ lay in the Boer War. The experience of facing
Boer firepower left a deep and lasting impression on the British Army. The grudging
respect that had developed during the war evolved into admiration in the aftermath
of the conflict. As has been demonstrated, the British came to recognise that a
variety of factors were responsible for the skills of the average Boer marksman,
some of which, such as the clear atmosphere, were unique to the theatre of war.
Nevertheless, the value of modern magazine rifles in the hands of skilled marksmen
was a lesson that was taken to heart. Universal skills, such as firing from behind cover,
snap shooting and rapid target acquisition went on to become the cornerstones of
British musketry training in the aftermath of the conflict. Inspired by these changes,
the British Army developed its own unique rifle culture during the pre-First World
War period, with marksmen being recognised and rewarded for their skills. The
effectiveness of BEF rifle fire in 1914 is well attested and played a crucial and arguably
decisive role in battlefield victory.
103
Sheldon, German Army at Ypres, p.262.
Edmonds, Official History 1914, Vol.1, pp.10-11.
105
Quoted in Ian F.W. Beckett, The Judgement of History: Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, Lord French and
1914 (London, Tom Donovan, 1993), p.34.
104
46
SHOOTING POWER
In 1902 a British officer had judged Boer marksmanship as ‘extraordinary’ and the
army as a whole had sought to imitate it. An impression of the success of this
process is gained by the fact that a German veteran of 1914 dubbed British shooting
as ‘miraculous’. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then the British Army
paid a handsome compliment to the marksmanship of Boers.
www.bjmh.org.uk
47
Ireland’s New Memory of the First World War:
Forgotten Aspects of the Battle of Messines, June
1917
RICHARD S. GRAYSON
Goldsmiths, University of London
ABSTRACT
The narrative of the 16th (Irish) and 36th (Ulster) divisions fighting side-byside at Messines in June 1917 plays a major and valuable role in crosscommunity reconciliation on the island of Ireland. However, there is no
sustained historical analysis of precisely who (in terms of geographic origin)
was serving in the two divisions by June 1917. This article does that,
concluding that around one-third of the men in each division had no Irish
connection. This opens up the prospect of nuancing the Messines narrative
so that it might play a part in British-Irish reconciliation.
Introduction: Messines and memory of the First World War
Prior to the opening of the Island of Ireland Peace Tower at Messines in 1998, there
had been no all-Ireland First World War memorial which was felt to be owned by all
on the island. There is a notionally all-Ireland memorial at Islandbridge in Dublin, but
it has not been a major site of focus for Northern Irish, especially unionist,
commemoration. Meanwhile, the Cenotaph in London could be claimed as ‘allIreland’, commemorating as it does all the dead of the British military in the First
World War (and, as they took place, later wars). Yet while many unionists in
Northern Ireland might look to the Cenotaph as a focus of their national
remembrance, for nationalists, its place in London is problematic. Consequently,
there has been an emphasis on two separate memorials on the Somme each
specifically focused on soldiers from one community: the Protestant/unionist 36th
(Ulster) Division at Thiepval and the Catholic/nationalist 16th (Irish) Division at
Guillemont. Both commemorate overtly divisions which were overtly political and
draw on symbolism which struggles to be inclusive.
With the opening of the Island of Ireland Peace Tower (a round tower, which is a
cultural icon recognised and accepted both north and south of the border), a new
48
FORGOTTEN ASPECTS OF MESSINES
phase of memory was initiated. The significance of Messines was that it was notionally
the location of an operation on 7 June 1917 which included, among other divisions,
the 16th and 36th Divisions. The location is only ‘notionally’ correct because the
memorial is actually about three miles away from where the 16th and 36th divisions
saw action. They actually fought in front of the village of Wytschaete, with New
Zealanders at Messines itself.1 However, since the operation was officially the ‘Battle
of Messines’ it would be hard to quarrel with the Messines site as a memorial to
action in the battle, unless official publicity adopted an ‘on this spot, the 16th and
36th…’ approach (which it does not).
When the battle took place, it was, at that point, one of the most effective allied
attacks of the war, but the Tower is not solely focused on that operation. The
memorial also commemorates the 10th (Irish) Division, a non-political formation
which was more denominationally mixed than the 16th and 36th as they were first
established, and which fought its war in the Gallipoli, Salonika and Palestine
campaigns. The Tower can be (and is) held up as a symbol of a shared Irish story
across religious and political divides, and it is symbolically Irish in several ways. In the
first place, the ‘Round Tower’ design dates back to Ireland as far as the 8th Century.
Meanwhile, some of the symbolism is very much all-Ireland, with its height of 32
metres representing the 32 Irish counties, and its four plots of yew trees matching
the four provinces. A stone at the memorial site lists all the counties ‘in continuous
lettering symbolising that the counties are linked, connected and interdependent'.2 It
might be thought that such an all-Ireland tone might be problematic for
unionists/loyalists, and issues around that will be discussed later. However, in general
it has not been greeted with hostility by unionists/loyalists, and it was a genuinely
cross-community creation. As a result, Messines, after the Somme (though, it should
be stressed, very far after), is probably the most prominent battle in the popular
story of the war across Ireland.
The extent to which the origins of the Peace Tower were partly found in changes in
historiography, and in a new mood created by the paramilitary ceasefires in Northern
Ireland, has been discussed elsewhere. 3 Ultimately, the Tower was initiated by
individuals following a visit to Western Front sites in 1996. One was Glen Barr, a
leading figure in the Ulster Workers’ Council strike which brought down the
Sunningdale power-sharing agreement in Northern Ireland in 1974, who later moved
1
Keith Jeffery, Ireland and the Great War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp.
139-140.
2
http://www.schoolforpeace.com/content/tower-and-park/43 [accessed 26 August 2014].
Richard Doherty, ‘Some thoughts on the Island of Ireland Peace Park’, in Alan Parkinson and
Eamon Phoenix (eds), Conflicts in the North of Ireland, 1900-2000 (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2010), pp. 5669; Richard S. Grayson, Belfast Boys: How Unionists and Nationalists Fought and Died Together in the First
World War (London: Continuum, 2009), pp. 177-8.
3
www.bjmh.org.uk
49
from politics to community work. The other leading figure was Paddy Harte, a
former Fine Gael government minister in the Republic of Ireland. In a piece on the
website of the International School for Peace Studies, Barr reflects on the site of the
project:4
Messines was selected because it was at the battle of Messines on 7th
June 1917 that the Nationalist 16th Irish Div. and the Unionist 36th
Ulster Div. fought and died together for the first time and where the
young John Meeke of the 36th Div. risked his life to retrieve the
badly wounded Major Willie Redmond of the 16th Div. from the
battlefield. Two men from different traditions, both there for
different political reasons, sworn enemies in Ireland, brothers in arms
on a foreign battlefield fighting a common enemy.
Barr’s comments point to the centrality of the 16th and 36th divisions in the story of
Messines which led to the Peace Tower’s inauguration. It also points to ideas of
reconciliation, in terms of men sharing a common goal in 1917. Meanwhile, there is a
sense of anger over this story having been lost (perhaps even consciously hidden),
when Barr asks later, ‘Why was I not taught this in my history class at school? Why
was it kept from me?’ Finally, there is a sense that in remembering this lost history,
the shared story of 1917 can bring about a shared future, in Barr’s reflection that,
Tens of thousands of young Unionists and Nationalists lie side by side
in cold foreign graves cut down by German bullets which did not
discriminate between Protestants or Roman Catholics, but I am
convinced, that they can now Rest In Peace in the knowledge that
through their joint sacrifice thousands of people from throughout the
Island of Ireland who have made the pilgrimage to where they lie
have found peace within and between themselves.5
Such views, in particular the idea of using history to build peace, were given state
sanction when the Peace Tower was opened in 1998, jointly by the British, Irish and
Belgian heads of state. At that opening, the Irish President, Mary McAleese, said:
The men of the 36th Ulster Division and the 16th Irish Division died
here. They came from every corner of Ireland. Among them were
Protestants, Catholics, Unionists and Nationalists, their differences
transcended by a common commitment not to flag but to freedom.
4
http://www.schoolforpeace.com/content/glen-barrs-story/63 [accessed 26 August 2014].
Cited in, Richard S. Grayson, ‘The Place of the First World War in Contemporary Irish
Republicanism in Northern Ireland’, Irish Political Studies, 25, 3 (2010), 325-345 (342].
5
50
Today we seek to put their memory at the service of another
common cause …
Meanwhile, the Irish Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, described it as ‘a symbolic moment of
reconciliation’, while the BBC coverage set out what would become a familiar
narrative:
In the battle for the Messines Ridge, Irish Catholics and Protestants
from all over Ireland fought side by side against the common German
enemy.
The clash, in June 1917, was the only time during the war when
largely Protestant soldiers from the [3]6th [sic] Ulster Division fought
alongside Catholics from the 16th Irish Division, which was drawn
from the south.6
The BBC was incorrect to state that Messines was the ‘only time’ the two divisions
fought side-by-side during the war. As Keith Jeffery points out, they would do so
again at Langemarck;7 a failed operation. However, the BBC’s error points to an idea
that was already entering public consciousness and after the Tower’s opening would
continue to do so.
Following its opening, the Tower has been seen both as a symbol of changes which
have already taken place, while also being a site which can be used as part of
processes of future reconciliation. There have been two particular ways in which that
has happened. In the first place is the International School for Peace Studies on the
edge of Messines village which ‘uses the events of The Great War … to engage
participants in learning about their shared history, cultural heritage, peace and
reconciliation, and the futility of war’.8 Some of its work is focused on groups of
young people through its Schools Links Project9 and it also hosts a wide range of
community groups. Second, is the Fellowship of Messines Association which aims to
reconcile former paramilitaries from republican and loyalist traditions. Formed in
2002, the Association works on an ongoing basis, principally through discussion
events. Its work has not been entirely without some loyalist hostility to the allIreland nature of some commemoration of Messines as a quotation from a
community organiser in a 2007 report suggests:
6
7
8
9
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/212208.stm [accessed 26 August 2014].
Jeffery, p. 139.
http://www.schoolforpeace.com/content/project-summary/33 [accessed 26 August 2014].
http://www.schoolforpeace.com/content/schools-links/56 [accessed 26 August 2014].
www.bjmh.org.uk
51
I have been going back and forward to Messines some six or seven
years now. I was one of the original guinea pigs among the excombatants, those who would have faced each other in the conflict
here in Northern Ireland… I had assumed that the ‘cross-community’
message was now well and truly accepted. And then just last week I
got a shock. I was organising a group of Loyalists to go to Messines,
and some of them said, ‘We’ll not be going, because we hear there’s
Republicans going too And I said, ‘Why not?’ ‘We’re not walking on
that sacred ground with Republicans, not a chance'. ‘But people from
both communities, and both parts of Ireland died there; Irish
Nationalists from the Irish Volunteers joined the British Army and
died over there’. ‘We don’t care, we’re not walking on sacred ground
with them’.10
However, such a view appears to be a minority one and both the Fellowship of
Messines Association and the International Peace School perform incredibly valuable
work. There has been a tendency across the island of Ireland for history to be part of
an ‘us versus them’ narrative, where stories of past heroism are used to preserve
existing divides. Messines, in contrast, is an example of history being used to
reconcile in a way that the vast majority of people would welcome. It rests on one
basic historical truth: that on 7 June 1917, two divisions which had been raised for
very different purposes on different sides of the Home Rule debate, fought alongside
each other. It also draws on the fact that there was contact between the two
divisions, most notably in the case of the death of Major William ‘Willie’ Redmond, as
discussed below.
Nothing that follows here is a challenge to any of this reconciliation work which is,
after all, based on historical facts. However, two questions are asked. The first is to
what extent those who fought at Messines in the 16th and 36th had an Irish
connection? There is no doubt that the 16th and 36th divisions, as the two volunteer
divisions raised in Ireland which fought on the Western Front, represented Ireland
more than any other division there. However, there is a question as to who was
actually serving in the divisions by that stage of the war. Second, does the popular
narrative of the two divisions at Messines, focused as it is on their side-by-side
service, tell us all that can be told of the symbolism of that battle? In other words, is
there a still forgotten dimension to a story which is widely believed now to be wellremembered?
It is remarkable that Ireland’s story of Messines has not been subjected to much
forensic analysis, despite its importance to Ireland’s new memory of the war.
10
52
Cited in, Michael Hall, A Shared Sacrifice for Peace (Belfast: Island Publications, 2007), p. 26.
Historians tend to be critical when it comes to contemporary uses of history, yet
there has only been one serious attempt to interrogate the new story of Messines.11
In that, Richard Doherty asked, ‘Did the men of the two Irish divisions fight
“shoulder to shoulder” in common cause voluntarily? Or is this a case of the
organizers [of the Peace Tower] trying to make past events fit a template that suits
their modern, laudable, purpose?’12 In answer to his questions, Doherty points out
that the men from the 16th and 36th did not share trenches as they were fighting in
separate (though adjoining) parts of the front. He also shows that there were
Protestants serving in the 16th. Of course, some of those could have been nationalists,
but Doherty offers evidence to suggest that some were probably (though not
certainly) signatories of the Ulster Covenant against Home Rule in 1912.13 Meanwhile,
Doherty rightly argues that there is little evidence of men in either division being
aware of which units they were fighting alongside. Despite these problems, Doherty
concludes that ‘while the organizers may have tried to make the events of the First
World War fit a modern-day template, they have done so with admirable rationale
and their efforts deserve to meet with success’.14 Few will depart from that view, but
there is more that can be said about who fought at Messines and the significance of
that.
The structure of the 16th and 36th divisions at Messines
The popular image of the 16th and 36th divisions is closely tied to paramilitary
antecedents. The 16th is seen as having contained large numbers former members of
the Irish National Volunteers, who had joined at the behest of John Redmond, the
leader of Irish nationalism, believing that fighting for the British in their time of need
would advance the cause of Home Rule. The 36th Division is even more closely
associated with the Ulster Volunteer Force, since UVF members enlisted en masse
and its battalions were based on the UVF’s geographic formations. However, the 16th
and 36th divisions at Messines were not the same divisions which had left Ireland. Far
from all their members could even remotely be viewed in any political context for
two reasons. First, the divisions’ losses at the Somme meant that they were
supplemented by fresh recruits. In many cases these were from Ireland, and included
men who had enlisted in 1914-15 but been placed in reserve battalions. However, as
we shall see later, many were transferred from non-Irish units and would not have
joined those units on the basis of the political convictions attributed to members of
the 16th and 36th. Second, the original structure of the 16th Division was transformed
11
Richard Doherty, ‘Some Thoughts on the Island of Ireland Peace Park’ in Alan F. Parkinson and
Eamon Phoenix eds., Conflicts in the North of Ireland: 1900-2000 (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2010), pp. 5669.
12
Ibid., p. 57.
13
Ibid., pp. 59-62
14
Ibid., pp. 66-69.
www.bjmh.org.uk
53
through reorganisations. By June 1917, two of its battalions had been disbanded, with
a further two merged, and three regular battalions of Irish regiments joining in their
place.15
This change in the structure of the 16th Division meant that although the two
divisions lined up alongside each other at Messines in June 1917, former members of
the UVF and INV were not necessarily close together (see Figure 1). As the
battalions took their positions close to the village of Wytschaete, the 36th Division
was to the right of the 16th. On the 36th’s left flank (adjoining the 16th) were the
battalions of the 109th Brigade. These were three battalions of the Royal Inniskilling
Fusiliers16 plus the 14th Royal Irish Rifles.17 Most Belfast volunteers were in the 107th
Brigade, to the right of the 36th Division and not adjoining the 16th Division. Instead,
107th brigade adjoined the 25th Division, which consisted largely of battalions
associated with the north of England.
Figure 1: the battle order of the 16th and 36th Divisions at Messines,
7th June 191718
19
TH
7th Leinsters 6th RIRegt
2nd RIRegt
1st Munsters
8th Inniskillings
6th Connaughts
48th Brigade (in reserve)
8th Dublins
9th Dublins
2nd Dublins
11th Inniskillings
11th RIRifles
14th RIRifles
108th Brigade
109th Brigade
10th Inniskillings
9th RIRifles 8th RIRifles
9th Inniskillings
12th RI Rifles
107th Brigade
15th RIRifles 10th RIRifles
108th Brigade (in reserve)
9th RIrishFus & 13th RIRifles
DIVISION
7/8th RIrishFus
TH
7th Inniskillings
36TH (ULSTER) DIVISION
109th Brigade
107th Brigade
25
(WESTERN) DIVISION
16TH (IRISH) DIVISION
49th Brigade
47th Brigade
7th RIRifles
Also in reserve: 33rd Infantry Brigade, 11th (Northern) Division
Who Died?
As regards the 16th Division, their brigade which adjoined the Ulster Division was the
47th. This brigade was probably the most overtly political as it had been almost
15
The 8th and 9th Royal Munster Fusiliers were disbanded, with the 7th and 8th Royal Irish Fusiliers
merged as the 7/8th battalion. In their place came the 1st Royal Munster Fusiliers, the 2nd Royal Dublin
Fusiliers and the 2nd Royal Irish Regiment. These changes began even before the Somme, with the 1st
Munsters joining and the 9th Munsters being disbanded in May 1916.
16
The 9th, 10th and 11th originally recruited from the Ulster Volunteer Force in counties Tyrone,
Londonderry, Donegal and Fermanagh.
17
Formed from the Young Citizens’ Volunteers, with a large Belfast contingent.
18
The National Archives: WO 158/416, 16th Division, Narrative of Operations from 3.10am 7
June to 4pm 9 June 1917; WO 95/2491, Narrative of Part Taken by 36th (Ulster) Division in the
Operations against the Messines-Wytschaete Ridge 7 June 1917.
54
completely cleared early in the war to allow for an influx of Redmondite volunteers.19
It included Belfast nationalists in the 6th 'Connaught Rangers and 7th Leinsters, plus
other nationalists in the 6th Royal Irish Regiment, alongside the regular battalion, the
1st Royal Munster Fusiliers. In the initial attack, the soldiers from the two divisions
who were closest to each other were the 6th Royal Irish Regiment on the far right on
the 16th Division’s front, and the 11th Inniskillings on the far left of the 36th Division’s.
Later in the battle, as mopping–up took place, other units of the two divisions were
alongside each other (though note that alongside means adjoining not inter-mingled).
However, just as the 107th Brigade was alongside English units, so too was the 16th
Division’s 49th Brigade next to the 19th (Western) Division, consisting mainly of units
from the west country and west midlands, but also some Welsh and north of England
battalions. in the first wave, in the most bitter fighting, more battalions of each
division would have had no contact with the other division than battalions which did
have contact. Only three of the eight 16th Division battalions in action at Messines
were directly alongside the Ulster Division at the outset, while the reverse applied to
three of the Ulster Division’s ten battalions. For the vast majority, their main contact
would either have been within their own division, or with English/Welsh battalions.
Who fought in the 16th and 36th divisions at Messines?
Having set out the general nature of the battalions, it is necessary to look at their
composition in more detail. In the one previous attempt to do this, Doherty focused
on religious denomination and has looked in some detail at the 7th and 8th battalions
of the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers,20 using information from Soldiers Died in the Great
War (SDGW).21 Certainly the question of denomination is an interesting one, but it is
not the only way of telling how far the battalions in the two divisions at Messines
represented the popular notion of their composition. It is also possible to consider
geographic origin, and to place that in the context of changes since the divisions first
went to the front. Meanwhile, the 7th and 8th Inniskillings were only two of the twelve
infantry battalions in the 16th, and of course can shed no light on the composition of
the 36th.
This author has developed a ‘military history from the street’ approach for examining,
as far as is possible, all those from a particular area who served.22 Since that focuses
on geographic areas rather than on specific army units it is not quite applicable here.
19
Terence Denman, Ireland’s Unknown Soldiers: The 16th (Irish) Divisio (Dublin: Irish Academy Press,
1992), p. 50.
20
Doherty, pp. 61-2.
21
Soldiers Died in the Great War (London: HMSO, 1920), now available on CD-Rom published by
the Naval and Military Press.
22
For a full explanation of the methodology see Richard S. Grayson, ‘Military history from the
street: new methods for researching First World War service in the British military’, War in History,
forthcoming, November 2014.
www.bjmh.org.uk
55
However, some of the sources, methods and principles can be applied to a study of
the 16th and 36th divisions at Messines. The fundamental basis of ‘military history from
the street’ is that for a soldier to be ‘from’ an area there should be some evidence of
an address for the soldier themselves. In the absence of that, next of kin information
can be used. The problem with adopting such an approach for a study of a unit is that
while contemporary addresses are generally found in the WO 363/364
service/pensions23 records, little more than one-third of the two collections (about
36 percent) survived the bombing of the Arnside Street repository in 1940. The
chances of finding a record for a dead soldier are further reduced because such
soldiers’ files are only found in the WO 363 service records, and only around onequarter of those survived.24
Consequently, we will never have a complete picture of those who served in the
First World War. Furthermore, even those records which survived are not
searchable by battalion, and not very reliably even by regiment.25 In the absence of
nominal rolls for each battalion26 it is not practical to find all those who served in a
specific division at a specific time without a manual search of around 2 million
records. Historians do not have decades of research time to put in to the production
of one article.
However, we do have a clear idea of who died in the 16th and 36th divisions at
Messines and the dead can be used as sample.27 They are found initially from two
sources: SDGW and the online database of the Commonwealth War Graves
Commission (CWGC). 28 These can be searched by both date and battalion.
Commissioned officers were not included in the sample used here partly because in
Officers Died in the Great War a battalion is not usually included, but most importantly
because officers would commonly not be from a local recruiting area even on the
initial formation of a battalion. So, in assessing whether or not a unit was locally
23
Held by the National Archives where they are free to use, but also online as part of a
subscription with www.ancestry.co.uk.
24
Grayson, ‘Military history from the street’.
25
In the online transcriptions, regiments are often mis-spelled or completely mistranscribed (for
example, ‘Leicester’ for ‘Leinster’. Moreover, there is commonly only one regiment shown in the
transcription, even if the soldier served in more than one. Usually, this will be the final regiment served in,
but sometimes it will simply be the one which is easiest to read.
26
Only one Irish battalion has a surviving nominal roll: the 14th Royal Irish Rifles, and that does
not contain dates of service so it is not possible to be clear who on the roll served at Messines.
27
It should be noted that information (especially in SDGW) is usually more specific for members
of infantry battalions than for other units such as the Royal Field Artillery and Army Service Corps.
Casualties in such units were likely to be low, especially in a successful operation such as Messines. It was
possible to locate some Royal Engineers and members of the Royal Field Artillery, none who served in the
16th or 36th divisions’ ASC units (or smaller formations such as the Army Veterinary Corps) were located
as killed at Messines. It is possible that there were none.
28
http://www.cwgc.org/find-war-dead.aspx [accessed 1 September 2014].
56
linked, the geographic origins presence of commissioned officers is less relevant than
that of other ranks. Therefore, searches were made for other ranks killed in the two
divisions on 7 June 1917 and those who died in the week after that (up to and
including 14 June, covering the formal dates of the battle).
By examining the SDGW and CWGC records, and supplementing the information in
them with material from service records29 and medal index cards,30 we can obtain a
picture of the origins of those who were killed at Messines, if not others who served.
That leads to data being found on 386 individuals from the two divisions who were
killed or died of wounds between 7 and 14 June 1917, although 314 of these were on
7 June as the two divisions advanced. Of these, there is some kind of geographic
information on all but one soldier.
Table 1 below sets out information on place of birth. The most striking point is the
proximity of figures for both divisions of Irish and English born recruits. In both cases,
around 60 percent of those who died were Irish-born, while around 30 percent were
born in England. If we look in further detail at the Ulster Division, of the 130 born in
Ireland, 116 (89 percent of the Irish-born and 54 percent of the division) were born
in Ulster, with the remaining fourteen spread through the three other Irish provinces
though most (nine) born in Leinster. This suggests that by the time of Messines, little
more than half of the Ulster Division’s dead came from its recruiting area, while less
then two-thirds of the Irish Division originated from its all-Ireland area. It is worth
noting that the fifteen from the 36th Division for whom there is no information on
place of birth is much higher than the four from the 16th Division. If these were all
born in Ireland than it would mean that the Irish-born figure for the 36th is as high as
68 percent. However, this seems unlikely. There is information on place of
enlistment for fourteen of the men which places thirteen in England and only one in
Ireland (Dublin). Place of residence was found for three, all in England, and the next
of kin of a further six were also all in England.
Exploring the place of birth of the 16th Division’s Irish-born men reveals less of a
focus on one province than for the 36th, which is what one would expect since the
Division recruited from nationalists across Ireland. The figures are: Leinster 37,
Ulster 31, Munster 23 and Connaught 9 (the percentage being the same in each case
as there are a total of 100).
29
30
WO 363 and 364 at the National Archives and on www.ancesttry.co.uk.
WO 372 at the National Archives and on www.ancesttry.co.uk.
www.bjmh.org.uk
57
Table 1: Country of Birth, 16th & 36th divisions other ranks fatalities
7-14 June 1917
th
16 Division
(Total: 172)
36th Division
(Total: 214)
Ireland
100 (58%)
130
(61%)
England
57
(33%)
55
(26%)
Scotland
5
(3%)
10
(5%)
Source: SDGW, WO 363, CWGC.
* 1 Australia, 3 Channel Islands, 1 Malta
Wales
1
(<1%)
2
(1%)
Other
5*
(3%)
2**
(1%)
No info
4
(2%)
15
(7%)
** USA
However, place of birth is problematic due to migration. We might, for example, find
that those born in Scotland were actually living in some part of Ireland by the time
they enlisted due to long-established and often temporary migration between the
two countries. The same might apply to the English-born. Meanwhile, the Irish-born
might have left Ireland. So examining place of enlistment and residence information is
also necessary.
Table 2: Country of Enlistment, 16th & 36th divisions other ranks
fatalities 7-14 June 1917
th
16 Division
(Total: 172)
36th Division
(Total: 214)
Ireland
89
(52%)
134
(63%)
England
64
(37%)
66
(31%)
Scotland
12
(7%)
11
(5%)
Wales
3
(2%)
2
(1%)
Other
3*
(2%)
--
No info
1
(<1%)
1
(<1%)
Source: SDGW, WO 363, CWGC.
* Channel Islands
As Table 2 shows, the proportion of men who enlisted in Ireland is lower in the 16th
Division than Irish-born, which, on the assumption that that division was
predominantly Catholic, could simply reflect greater levels of migration. Differences
between country of birth and enlistment are smaller in the 36th Division, though also
with lower numbers enlisting in Ireland than being born there. To demonstrate this
point, examining only those where the country of both birth and of enlistment are
known, seventeen of the 100 Irish-born in the 16th enlisted outside Ireland (ten in
England, six in Scotland and one in Wales). In contrast, only seven (5 percent) of 134
Irish-born in the 36th enlisted elsewhere (all in Scotland).
We can also assess how far country of birth/enlistment might relate to country of
residence. Information on this in SDGW is far less complete than for birth/enlistment.
However, next of kin information can be found in CWGC data and occasionally in
the medal index, while addresses for soldiers and/or relatives are in the service
records. Table 3 combines soldiers’ addresses and (where there is no address for the
soldier) next of kin addresses. As its shows, for the 16th Division, there is no
58
information on place for residence for 16 percent of those who died, while for the
36th Division there is no information on one-quarter.
Table 3: Country of Residence, 16th & 36th divisions other ranks
fatalities 7-14 June 1917
th
16 Division
(Total: 172)
36th Division
(Total: 214)
Ireland
81*
(47%)
100#
(47%)
England
51**
(30%)
49##
(23%)
Scotland
10***
(6%)
8###
(4%)
Wales
1****
(<1%)
2####
(1%)
Source: SDGW, WO 363, WO 372, CWGC.
* 52 soldiers, 29 next of kin
** 36 soldiers, 15 next of kin.
6 next of kin.
**** 1 next of kin
***** 2 soldiers, Channel Islands
#
##
36 soldiers, 64 next of kin
20 soldiers, 29 next of kin
4 next of kin
####
#####
2 next of kin
Next of kin in Uruguay
Other
2*****
(1%)
1#####
(<1%)
No info
27
(16%)
54
(25%)
*** 4 soldiers,
###
4 soldiers,
The most striking figure in Table 3 is that for both the 16th and 36th divisions, 47
percent of the dead either had an Irish place of residence or their next of kin did.
However, compared to the other tables, there is also much higher proportion of
men for whom no residence could be identified, particularly for the 36th Division. For
around half of these 54 in the 36th, the residence probably was in Ireland because in
almost all cases both the place of birth and place of enlistment was Irish (27 were
both born and enlisted in Ireland, with only one born there enlisted in Scotland).
However, the existence of a large gap in the residence information does make it
difficult to compare country of residence to other figures. Yet if we exclude those
with no information, and do the same for the other two sets of data, we find, as
Table 4 shows, that there is a broadly similar set of results for the two largest figures
in the three data sets: percentage in Ireland and percentage in England, which are
highlighted in bold in the table.
www.bjmh.org.uk
59
Table 4: Country of Residence, Enlistment and Residence, 16th &
36th divisions other ranks fatalities 7-14 June 1917, excluding
soldiers where there is no information
Birth: Ireland
Birth: England
Birth: Scotland
Birth: Wales
Birth: Other
Enlistment: Ireland
Enlistment: England
Enlistment: Scotland
Enlistment: Wales
Enlistment: Other
Residence: Ireland
Residence: England
Residence: Scotland
Residence: Wales
Residence: Other
16th
no.
16th
%
36th
no.
36th
%
100
57
5
1
5
89
64
12
3
3*
81
51
10
1
2
60
34
3
<1
3
52
37
7
2
2
55
35
7
<
1
1
130
55
10
2
2
134
66
11
2
--
100
49
8
2
1
65
28
5
1
1
63
31
5
1
--
63
31
4
1
<
1
N for known country of birth = 168 for 16th and 199 for 36th; for known country of
enlistment is 171 for 16th and 213 for 36th; for known country of residence is 145 for
16th and 160 for 36th.
For the 16th division, the percentage with an Irish connection in the categories is
between 52 percent and 60 percent, with 34 to 37 percent for England. For the 36th
Division, figures for Ireland are 63 to 65 percent and 28 to 31 percent for England.
This suggests that over one-third of those in the 16th and 36th divisions at Messines
were not from Ireland. However, the above data is sporadic in that often, fewer than
three categories are filled for each individual, and in any case some information (that
on residence and/or place of enlistment) might be only temporary. Therefore, we can
also look at how many men had any kind of Irish connection, by examining how many
met at least one of the criteria: birth, residence or place of enlistment. This helps to
allow for temporary residence and migration, and can also go some way to reflecting
the porous boundaries of Irish identities which is addressed below. Table 5 does this
for 385 of the 386 soldiers analysed. The one excluded is a member of the 36th
Division for whom there was no geographic data of any kind.
Table 5: Born, enlisted or residing in Ireland, 16th & 36th divisions
other ranks fatalities 7-14 June 1917
th
16 Division
36th Division
No.
108
142
%
63
67
60
In Table 5, there is a slightly higher number of those with an Irish connection than
any of the single data categories, but only marginally so. However, the key pattern
which emerges is that using all the data which can reasonably be used, around onethird of the men killed at Messines in the 16th and 36th divisions had no demonstrable
Irish connection, and instead had a connection to England, Scotland or Wales.
One issue which arises from this is whether the two divisions had always been like
that, or whether there had been a change since their formation. The best way of
assessing this is to examine the deaths in the first major engagement for each division.
In both cases, this was on the Somme, though at different times (1 to 2 July 1916 for
the 36th and 3 to 9 September 1916 for the 16th). With the vastly higher number of
deaths in both divisions, a full study of other ranks using all sources used for
Messines would require an entirely separate project. However, one source, SDGW,
can easily be used as an illustration of the minimum numbers of those with any kind
of Irish connection.
Table 6: Born, enlisted or residing in Ireland, 16th & 36th divisions
other ranks fatalities in the Battle of the Somme
th
16 Division*
36th Division**
No.
734
1664
%
77
94
Source: SDGW.
Note: % is of all fatalities, not only those for whom there is some geographic data.
* 3-9 September 1916
** 1-2 July 1916
As Table 5 shows, simply taking data from this source shows a higher proportion of
those with an Irish connection than the data for Messines does. It must be
emphasised that the 77 percent and 94 percent figures are minimum percentages
partly because they are of all those identified in SDGW, not merely those for whom
data is included. Consequently, once gaps in data were filled from other sources, the
percentage with any Irish connection could only rise. Thus we can with reasonable
certainty say that between the Somme and Messines, the Irish composition of both
divisions fell. In the 16th, it fell from at least 77 percent to 63 percent, while in the
36th it fell even more markedly from 94 percent to 67 percent. These division-wide
figure masks some striking difference between battalions. For example, the 6th Royal
Irish Regiment appears to have been only 67 percent ‘Irish’ even on the Somme, with
a sizeable proportion of its dead coming from the Channel Islands. These latter men
had been in the battalion since the early days of the division.31 The same can be said
for the 7th Royal Irish Rifles. Meanwhile, the overall figure of 94 percent ‘Irish’ for the
Ulster Division on the Somme, masks the facts that the average is greatly affected by
31
Denman, Ireland’s Unknown Soldiers, p. 53.
www.bjmh.org.uk
61
one battalion, the 11th Inniskillings, which contained a large number of men from the
north-east of England. Its ‘Irish’ figure on the Somme is only 67 percent, compared to
seven battalions which had a figure of 100 percent, three with 96 to 98 percent and
one on 90 percent.
One caveat must be added to those division-wide figures, relating to the point made
earlier about which brigades/battalions were actually alongside each other at
Messines. In terms of brigades, 47th Brigade (the one nearest the 36th Division at the
frontline) had a much higher ‘Irish’ figure (78 percent) than the 16th Division as a
whole, which is perhaps surprising given all the Channel Islands men in one of its
battalions. In one battalion, the 6th Connaught Rangers, all the men killed at Messines
had an Irish connection, although this was only seven in number so might be affected
by the usual risk of a small sample. However, the battalion closest to the Ulster
Division in the initial attack, the 6th Royal Irish Regiment, had a lower figure, at 73
percent. As regards the Ulster Division, its brigade closest to the Irish Division, 109th
Brigade, was broadly in line at 64 percent with the division figure of 66 percent.
However, its battalion closest to the Irish Division in the first attacks appears to have
been only 51 percent ‘Irish’ (eleven of twenty).
So, while the 16th Division was almost as ‘Irish’ as it had ever been at Messines, the
Ulster Division had been transformed after the Somme. That was, of course, affected
by the much higher level of fatalities on the Somme for the Ulster Division, which
lost over twice as many men, meaning that it took larger numbers of fresh drafts
from than the 16th. Yet, even for those with ‘Irish’ connections, we should not
assume that such men were necessarily part of the original 16th and 36th divisions.
Clearly that is the case for battalions which were transferred in from elsewhere, but
it was also true for some other men.
Using the medal index and service records it is possible to establish the service
history or at least the first date on which some men went on overseas service. Such
data is apparent for the 49 in the 16th Division. If we exclude fifteen men of the
battalions which were not originally part of the division 2nd Royal Irish Regiment, 1st
Royal Munster Fusiliers and 2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers), we are left with information
on the date (and generally the place) of first service of 34 men. Of these, five first
served in the Balkans between July and November 1915, which suggests that they
probably were transferred to the 16th from the 10th (Irish) Division, and certainly
were not part of the original 16th. Of those who first served in France, fourteen
arrived in December 1915 on dates when the 16th Division was in the process of
arriving. However, almost as many, a further twelve, arrived well before the 16th
Division, suggesting earlier service in another unit. One had certainly served with the
6th Bedfordshire Regiment earlier in the war. Another, Daniel Smith, a Belfast man of
the 7th Royal Irish Rifles, has a service number (15/11861) and an embarkation date of
62
4 October 1915 which suggests he might even have first served in the 36th Division
with the 15th Royal Irish Rifles. Three more men had found their way into the 16th
Division after service in reserve or other units outside it. Overall, of the 34 men with
an Irish connection in the 16th for whom there is first overseas service data, and who
had not come in from battalions transferred into the division, more than half (twenty)
do not appear to have been members of the original 16th division.
For the 36th Division, such data exists for 68 men with an Irish connection, of whom
58 (85 percent) have dates of first service of 4 and 5 October 1915 which suggest
arriving in France with the original division. Of the other ten, six arrived in late 1915
and there is no evidence of other service. Three had served in France prior to
October 1915 and one had served in the Balkans, James Bonner, a Templemore man
serving in the 11th Inniskillings, and a probable transferee from the 10th Division.
Though less stark than the data for the 16th Division, that for the 36th Division does
point to some nuances in the nature of those with an Irish connection killed at
Messines in the two divisions. Especially for the 16th, we should be wary of assuming
that those in the divisions at June 1917 had left Ireland with the political zeal
attributed to the 16th and 36th. Some had played no part in that.
One further characteristic of those in the two divisions merits some attention: the
nature of those who had no Irish connection. Of 64 in the 16th Division, over half (34)
had some wartime service with a previous regiment. Of the other thirty, we might
wonder whether they were volunteers or conscripts. The data suggests the former
since it is present for eighteen of the thirty, all of whom entered service before
conscription came into force in Britain. In the 36th Division, of 72 with no Irish
connection, 67 had previous wartime service, and one of the other five had joined
after conscription had been introduced.
Where had these men come from? In the 16th Division, no more than three men
shared previous service in the same regiment. In contrast, in the 36th there were
larger cohorts of men from the same regiments: seventeen were transferred from
the London Regiment, followed by seven from each of the Norfolk Regiment and the
King’s Royal Rifle Corps, and six from the Buffs (East Kent). Not only were these
men transferred from English battalions in clusters, they also joined new regiments in
clusters: all the Buffs joined the 14th Royal Irish Rifles (as did a smaller group from the
Bedfordshires), while all but one of the Norfolks went to the 9th Royal Irish Rifles.
Groups of men from the London Regiment went to a number of battalions, but
especially the 9th and 12th Royal Irish Rifles. It is harder to tell if the same pattern can
be seen in the 16th Division because numbers of English-enlisted transferred in from
other battalions were smaller (just 20) and no more than two came from any single
regiment. However, both men who joined from the Bedfordshires went to the 7th
Leinsters, and both who joined from the Leicestershires went to the 7th Inniskillings.
www.bjmh.org.uk
63
They might represent larger groups of transferees who were not killed. To add to
this mixing should be added the point that several English regiments (Bedfordshire,
Buffs, London, Middlesex, Norfolk, Rifle Brigade, Royal Sussex and Suffolk) sent men
to both the 16th and 36th divisions.
Conclusions
What then, do these figures mean for the story of Messines? In the first place, we
must recognise that they can do nothing to illuminate what was in the minds of the
men who fought in the 16th and 36th divisions at Messines. As Richard Doherty has
shown, evidence is scant, and among the ordinary soldiers, any thoughts of there
being anything symbolic about the two divisions being alongside each other are hard
to find. However, we do know that some were quick to comment on the significance
in the context of the death of Major William Redmond. Serving with the 6th Royal
Irish Regiment, this nationalist Member of Parliament for East Clare was found
wounded by a member of the 11th Inniskilling Fusiliers, Private John Meeke, from
Ballymoney in County Antrim. Meeke was wounded trying to save Redmond, who
was eventually collected by stretcher-bearers from the Ulster Division. He died at
one of their field ambulance stations. It was on officer of the 108th Field Ambulance
who wrote to Redmond’s brother, John, the nationalist leader, ‘The 16th and 36th
Divisions had a glorious victory today and they advanced side by side.’ When he was
buried at Locre on 8 June, the honour guard was provided by a battalion from each
division: the 10th Inniskillings and the 2nd Royal Irish Regiment, accompanied by
officers from both divisions.32 It is hard to doubt that these men were affected by
what they saw, and perhaps some remained affected for years after.
However, while the Redmond case may well have a valuable and legitimate part to
play today in cross-community understanding, it is only part of the story of Messines,
and the figures discussed here suggest that the story should be more nuanced. In the
first place, the figures raise issues for historians of the British army in its broadest
sense about what constitutes a ‘local’ identity, and whether there is any formula we
might apply to that. Second, as regards Messines and the 16th/36th divisions two more
specifically, the story should be nuanced to reflect their likely lack of battlefield
contact. Third, it needs to take account of the diversity of the 16th and 36th divisions,
not only Irishmen who had enlisted in the 10th (Irish) Division at the start of the war
but in particular the large numbers of Englishmen in their ranks.
Perhaps some of these ‘Englishmen’ felt some kind of connection with Ireland. Irish
identities are notoriously porous and persistent in the sense that those without any
32
Terence Denman, A Lonely Grave: The Life and Death of William Redmond (Dublin: Irish
Academic Press, 1995), pp. 120-1.
64
personal geographic connection to Ireland can identify with the island or parts of it.
That is perhaps most markedly seen in the expression of an Irish-American identity
by those whose families have been in the United States of America for generations.33
Consequently, we need to be wary of suggesting that those who were killed at
Messines in June 1917 could only have felt some kind of connection to any part of
Ireland if they can be shown to have a personal geographic link. In communities in
Glasgow, Liverpool, the north-east of England and elsewhere, there would have been
many without a demonstrable Irish link in terms of place of birth, enlistment,
residence (their own or next of kin) who nevertheless were part of an Irish diaspora.
However, the service in the 16th and 36th divisions of so many whose only identifiable
geographic connection is with some place other than Ireland does suggest that there
is a story to tell beyond simply using Messines as part of a narrative which stresses
commonality among Irish soldiers. John Morrissey has addressed the complexities of
Irish military identities with regard to the Connaught Rangers.34 These experiences
become even more nuanced when one recognises the extent of service alongside
soldiers from Great Britain. The story of Messines has successfully been used for
reconciliation in Ireland, especially among former paramilitaries in Northern Ireland.
It might perhaps in future reflect an element of shared experience between Irish and
British soldiers. Any loyalist or unionist who might find the all-Ireland nature of the
Messines narrative to be uncomfortable, could find some solace in that.
33
See, for example, Mike Cronin and Daryl Adair, The Wearing of the Green: A History of St
Patrick’s Day (Abingdon: Routledge, 2002), pp. 210-222.
34
John Morrissey, ‘A lost heritage: the Connaught Rangers and multivocal Irishness, in: Mark
McCarthy, ed., Ireland’s Heritage: Critical Perspectives on Memory and Identity (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), pp.
71–87.
www.bjmh.org.uk
65
The Legacy of Liddell Hart: The Contrasting
Responses of Michael Howard and André Beaufre
BRIAN HOLDEN REID
King’s College London
ABSTRACT
This article establishes how the careers and strategic ideas of Sir Michael
Howard and General André Beaufre have been influenced by their
friendship with one of Britain’s most significant intellectuals of the twentieth
century, Sir Basil Liddell Hart. The article traces the relationships between
Howard, Beaufre and Hart while outlining the evolution of the ‘indirect
approach’ in the nuclear age. It was through the work of these two friends
of Liddell Hart who evolved and developed his ideas for a new age and a
new strategic-political context.
The subject of this essay is the strategic legacy of Sir Basil Liddell Hart, one of the
preeminent military thinkers of the twentieth century, as interpreted by two of his
closest friends, Sir Michael Howard and General André Beaufre. 1 Such a theme
demonstrates how these ideas evolved and changed in the hands of others. This
approach has the added advantage of relating Howard’s work to the time that it was
written and in relation to others, and moreover, shift the focus on Liddell Hart away
from the interwar years and into the nuclear age. The essay’s concerns are not with
the technicalities of nuclear strategy but only with the fundamental concepts on
which it rests. In addition, a study of these matters can only benefit from an AngloFrench thrust. Liddell Hart was born in France and it is desirable to broaden the
context of the customary Anglo-American discussion of these issues. American
strategic thinkers will be considered briefly towards the end, but more space will be
devoted to Beaufre who went to great lengths to develop the strategic potential of
1
This was the subject of my 2012 Annual Liddell Hart Lecture delivered on 27th November 2012 in
honour of Sir Michael Howard’s 90th Birthday at King’s College London. The lecture as delivered was
published by the Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives as a pamphlet, Michael Howard and Evolving Ideas
About Strategy (2013). What follows is a revised version, and I am grateful to the Trustees of the LHCMA
for permission to quote from copyright material.
66
THE LEGACY OF LIDDELL HART
Liddell Hart’s favourite notion of an indirect approach to strategy. Today’s
burgeoning Anglo-French defence relationship might give this effort further interest.
The essay comprises four themes: Liddell Hart’s legacy will be summarised. Howard
and Beaufre’s treatment of it will then be assessed, before proceeding to discuss how
each refined, altered and adapted these ideas – or rejected them – rather than accept
them as Liddell Hart preferred as the unvarnished ‘truth’. Finally, I shall conclude with
a few observations on the degree to which Bernard Brodie and Henry Kissinger –
both friends of Howard – could be regarded as disciples of Liddell Hart.
To begin with Liddell Hart. During the 1960s Liddell Hart’s reputation reached
extraordinary heights. When he visited Israel in 1960 his trip stimulated more public
interest than that of any other foreign visitor except Marilyn Monroe. The
publication in 1967 of the Fourth Edition of Strategy: The Indirect Approach was treated
as a major intellectual event in the armed forces of the West and beyond. He was
indisputably the world’s most distinguished and celebrated military thinker. In an
earlier edition Liddell Hart expressed his faith that the indirect approach expressed ‘a
law of life in all spheres: a truth of philosophy’. 2 It provided a vehicle for the
expression of Liddell Hart’s Edwardian rationalism that exalted not just reason, but
truth, order, progress, judicious compromise and careful understanding – all those
things that contributed to ‘civilized values’. He abhorred expediency, extremes of any
kind, fanaticism and all forms of emotionalism and confrontation. These last were
wont to push an opponent into a corner, making agreement well nigh impossible and
thus a fight to the finish inevitable.
Close scrutiny of the conceptual base of the indirect approach has revealed
vagueness and elasticity: it can stretch one way or the other depending on where one
wants to pull it. Three points can be advanced by way of elucidation. First, it is a
concept rooted in history. Liddell Hart did not claim novelty for his strategic theorem;
‘it rather’, he explains, ‘seeks to crystallise strategic thought more clearly and redefine it afresh in the light of new and enlarged experience and knowledge of
psychology’. Secondly, its deductions were based on ‘the near ruinous lesson of
1914-18’; further extrapolations rested on the experience of 1939-45 which Liddell
Hart regarded as no less disastrous.3 It was thirdly, a strategy of limited aim, that is a
waiting game, one that seeks ‘a change in the balance of force, a change often sought
and achieved by draining the enemy’s force, weakening him by pricks instead of
risking blows’. It attempted to reduce resistance by exploiting movement and
surprise. It is this last element – the operational method – that combines audacity
2
Fourth Edition (London: Cassell, 1967), p. 18, ‘Preface to the Revised Edition of 1954’. All
quotations are from the fourth edition.
3
In 1944-45, he proclaimed, ‘the pursuit of triumph was foredoomed to turn into tragedy, and
futility’ (Ibid., p. 15).
www.bjmh.org.uk
67
and mobility, dazzling manoeuvres, with thrusts into the enemy’s rear echelons that
Liddell Hart’s name is normally associated; but it should be stressed that the strategic
source from which this fast-flowing stream emanates is water of a much more
sluggish gait. The post-war world would require the prime understanding that war is
not all rush. The exercise of the indirect approach in the nuclear age would still
require distraction, deception and, above all, the need to out-think the enemy, but it
also required some balancing qualities as well.
The advent of nuclear and thermonuclear weapons rendered prudence a high virtue.
These weapons, Liddell Hart affirmed, rendered any idea of ‘victory’ or ‘total war’
absurd. The nuclear age gave a new impetus to the cautious ripples of the indirect
approach – and its undertow, Liddell Hart’s profound belief that the perfection of
strategy should be sought in the elimination of fighting. The basis of strategy, he
stressed, was a duality: ‘Like a coin it has two faces. Hence the need for a well
calculated compromise as a means to reconciliation’.4
It is timely to delineate the seven key themes of the indirect approach. They are all
expressions of a characteristic Liddell Hart paradox: ‘In strategy, the longest way
round is often the shortest way there’.5
•
•
•
•
•
4
The dislocation of the enemy’s psychological and physical balance should be
the ‘vital prelude’ to his overthrow; not his utter destruction.
Second, always negotiate an end to unprofitable wars. The method should
remain the same as he advocated in the 1930s: ‘a shrewd calculation of the
military economic factor’ based on hard-headed business-like methods. The
danger of nuclear war gave these an added urgency.
Third, the methods of the indirect approach were ‘better suited to the
psychology of a democracy’. Strategists should be ‘attuned...to the popular
ear’. Democracies, he warned, were less tolerant of the prodigious cost of
modern war.
Fourth, military power rests on economic endurance; a decision should be
gained by ‘sapping the opponent’s strength and will’. He placed great weight
therefore on the significance of blockades. The latter represent an effective
indirect approach ‘which incurred no risk except in its slowness of effect’.
Fifth, and implicit in the foregoing, his concept rested on an assumption that
war was an activity between states. Its fundamental object, Liddell Hart held,
ensured the maintenance of state policy ‘in face of the determination of the
B. H. Liddell Hart, The British Way in Warfare (London: Faber and Faber, 1932), pp. 93, 94, 97,
99, 100, 106; for developments and recapitulations of this theme, see Liddell Hart, Strategy, pp. 334, 343,
359.
5
Liddell Hart, Strategy, p. 25.
68
•
•
opposing state to pursue its contrary policy’. He adds, ‘For a state to gain its
object in war it has to change this adverse will into compliance with its own
policy’.
Sixth, he urged the adoption of what he called in the 1930s, ‘Rational
pacifism’. This standpoint was expressed in a maxim of his own devising, that
his post-war disciples took to heart, ‘if you wish for peace, understand war’.
But Liddell Hart remained adamantly opposed to unwise one-sided
disarmament, as it would render the disarmer ‘impotent either to check war
or to control its cause’.
Seventh, and finally, Liddell Hart’s study of history revealed that victory
often emerged as the result of self-defeating action by the enemy. In 1945
‘Germany went far to defeat herself’. But he feared that the exhaustion of
1945 would ‘incubate the germs of another war’: the spectre of the World
War III that preoccupied a generation.6
Liddell Hart thus arrived at a cogent short definition of strategy: ‘the art of
distributing and applying military means to fulfil the ends of policy’.7
Liddell Hart added a codicil to this strategic last will and testament. It would figure
prominently in the work of his disciples and is given pride of place in Liddell Hart’s
book, Deterrent or Defence (1960). The possession of a nuclear deterrent does not do
away with an overall defence policy designed to resist a diverse range of threats. The
deterrent effect of nuclear weapons was ‘fading’ except when applied to their own
kind, for ‘other forms of aggression may proceed’, he writes, ‘with impunity if they
are limited in aim and action’. The West might find itself helpless to resist a quick and
bloodless fait accompli. Liddell Hart’s book was publically endorsed by John F.
Kennedy in the Presidential Election of 1960 as validating his criticisms of the
Eisenhower Administration’s defence policy which, he claimed, relied too heavily on
the nuclear deterrent to the detriment of conventional, land forces. But the book is a
collection of previously published articles, and Michael Howard got into hot water
with Liddell Hart when he reviewed it critically, pointing out the inadequacies of this
kind of publication.8
In short, nuclear deterrence could provoke guerrilla war. Large powers could exploit
the nuclear stalemate ‘under camouflage’ and sponsor such conflicts. They could only
be combated by the pursuit of ‘a counter strategy of a more subtle and far-seeing
6
Key themes: Ibid., 1) pp. 115, 164, 219, 228; 2) pp. 104, 132; 3)pp. 150, 160, 163; 4) pp. 198,
203, blockade, 204, 218, 283, 357; 5)p. 227; 6)pp. 228, 229-30; 7) pp. 329, 362-63; also see Liddell Hart,
British Way in Warfare, p. 8.
7
Liddell Hart, Strategy, p. 335.
8
B. H. Liddell Hart, Deterrent or Defence (London Stevens, 1960), p. x; Michael Howard, review in
Survival, 2 (September-October 1960), p. 214.
www.bjmh.org.uk
69
kind’. Here was another problem, the poor quality of Western leadership in the Cold
War – a widely felt, though greatly exaggerated view that Kennedy exploited in his
presidential campaign. In essence, Saki Dockrill has shown that the Kennedy
Administration did not greatly increase the number of American land forces deployed
by its predecessor. Liddell Hart interpreted this controversy in his own way, and
sang the praises of ‘prophets’, that by implication included himself, a class of leaders,
‘philosophical strategists’ who gained acceptance by the packaging of their ideas ‘as
the revival in modern terms of a time-honoured principle or practice that had been
forgotten’. This role appeared to elevate the importance of the historian in strategic
formulation, or at least history, but also revealed a hostage to fortune, the selfserving abuse or even manipulation of the historical record.9
Michael Howard played an important role in exposing some of Liddell Hart’s abuses
of history but also in carrying forward some of the elements of the indirect approach
in the nuclear age. Howard offers a memorable description of this stratagem in his
own memoirs, which is far from dismissive, as resembling the work of the nineteenth
century Swiss theorist, Baron Jomini. Fundamentally, Liddell Hart, like Jomini had only
one idea and spent his entire life repeating, reformulating and inflating it.10 One other
aspect of the reception of Liddell Hart’s legacy should also be spelled out, which the
late American historian, Jay Luvaas, another of his disciples, impressed on me two
decades ago. Liddell Hart tended to assume, Luvaas claimed, that if one admired a
particular aspect of his work, that one accepted ‘the entire package’.11 Unravelling
this package represented a major challenge for Liddell Hart’s disciples for he
regarded the route by which he arrived at his conclusions and their universal
applicability as evidence of fundamental ‘truth’. He did not recognise that ideas must
be modified over time, as changing historical circumstances modify their bearing and
significance and their proportions and dimensions vary.
Howard’s life had been shaped by his experience of the Second World War as
Liddell Hart’s had been by the First. He was born on 29 November 1922, educated
at Wellington and Christ Church Oxford. Sir Keith Feiling and A.J.P. Taylor were
among his tutors and Hugh Trevor-Roper, another Christ Church man, would also
be a major influence on his career. After decorated wartime service in the
Coldstream Guards and on the strength of his regiment’s history (much of it written
in the Library of the Reform Club) in 1947 he gained appointment as assistant
lecturer in history at King’s College London, promoted in 1950 to lecturer in history
9
Saki Dockrill, Eisenhower’s New-Look National Security Policy, 1953-1961 (Houndmills: Macmillan
Press, 1996), p. 278; Liddell Hart, Strategy, p. 19.
10
Michael Howard, Captain Professor: The Memoirs of Sir Michael Howard (London: Continuum,
2006), p. 154.
11
Conversation during the Second International Conference on Strategy, US Army War College,
Carlisle, Pennsylvania, February 1990.
70
(later war studies). His friendship with Liddell Hart dates from 1954 and resulted
from a wholly unexpected approach by the great man which so many, including
Bernard Brodie, received via letter, though the pretext in this case was ‘the depth
and thought and understanding’ that Howard had exhibited in a review of a book in
military history.12
The personal reasons that brought Howard into the world of contemporary defence
and security problems are perhaps the subject for another place and occasion. He
was by no means the first historian to be attracted by the momentous issues and
problems of his own time. My late colleague, Professor Saki Dockrill, was increasingly
attracted to them in the last phase of her, alas, too short career. In the previous
generation to Howard’s, Sir Herbert Butterfield, E. H. Carr and A.J.P. Taylor had all
written about contemporary matters and all three were more controversial figures.
Of course, Liddell Hart himself offered Howard an example of the indefatigably
industrious public intellectual who combined the study of history with analysis of
contemporary problems; he also offered examples of tendencies to avoid, notably
arrogance and dogmatism and naked self-promotion verging on vainglory.
Howard was a ‘stalwart liberal’, to use the historian Ian Roy’s description, in a
conservative college though he worked effectively with conservative institutions not
least the armed forces. He made an important contribution to the centre-left
tradition in British strategic thought which has proved so influential, and includes
figures like Spenser Wilkinson, Liddell Hart, John Strachey, and P.M.S. (later Lord)
Blackett. He also fell into the subject almost accidentally. When attending a meeting
of the Royal Institute for International Affairs at Chatham House, he was assigned by
Alistair Buchan to a Study Group on ‘Disengagement in Europe’ and as a young
university lecturer was appointed rapporteur. Buchan, too, would become a powerful
influence on his career and interest in contemporary defence problems and strategy.
Howard wrote up their findings as his first book, Disengagement in Europe (1958),
published by Penguin, then expanding its list with a series of concise, lucid, and
penetrating surveys of post-war problems written by young dons who had been
officers in 1939-45 (Gordon Connell-Smith’s Pattern of the Post-War World [1957] was
advertised on its back cover). Disengagement was a favoured device in the mid-1950s
designed to reduce the tensions of the Cold War by which Germany would be
demilitarised in return for Soviet withdrawal in Eastern Europe.
Howard’s strategic approach rested on an understanding that the central problem
facing the twentieth century would continue to be the increasing spirals of
destructive power inherent in modern war, taken to an apocalyptic and ruinous
12
On the background and formative influences, see Brian Holden Reid, ‘Michael Howard and the
Evolution of Modern War Studies’, The Journal of Military History, 73 No. 3 (July 2009), pp. 869-904.
www.bjmh.org.uk
71
plenitude by nuclear weapons. He also grasped the complexity of these issues not
easily solved by (to some) self-evident and simple solutions. Howard’s intellectual
outlook was decisively shaped by the passage of the Cold War and he would later
place efforts to resist Soviet power on a par with the struggles of previous
generations of statesmen to resist French and German power. So he had no illusions
about the nature of the adversary.
In Disengagement in Europe, a book provided with a concise historical context, he
stressed the need for ‘firm, flexible, and patient attitudes, for any solution to the
strategic impasse in Europe should not be adopted if it damaged “deterrence”’ – then
still placed in quotation marks – ‘to discourage the Russian leaders from taking
unwise risks’. In short new measures should not be adopted if they exacerbated
‘fears and create new tensions’ however laudable they may appear. Such efforts
should be relinquished ‘in the general interests of the peaceful survival of mankind’. In
his conclusion, Howard made three points that he would develop over the next half
century: ‘The less secure the Russian leaders feel’, he wrote, ‘the less likely they are
to make concessions: we are not the only people who like to negotiate from
strength’. Secondly, increased tension between the armed blocs was not just a
European problem, for it developed out of broader conflicts of ideology and ‘the
nature of the armaments themselves’ and these ‘can be allayed by general measures
of disarmament mutual inspection and control’. There would be changes of emphasis
here, but his central point was that tension was not caused solely by the weapons
deployed, that ‘armed races’ in themselves do not cause tension, they are symptoms
of it. This led to his final, third point. Peace did not consist of an absence of
international difficulties but a tolerance of them; it was necessary ‘to rely on time and
good will to soften their sharp edges if not to solve them’. In other words, the
settlement of Europe would neither be a magical nor ‘an isolated act’.13
In developing his ideas Howard never consciously viewed himself as a ‘strategist’ as
some of his pupils do. But strategy was vital in bridging his historical works with
contemporary analysis, what he calls the ‘strategic approach’ which developed into a
new academic discipline, strategic studies, and drew on international relations
inspired by the work of scholars like Hedley Bull (with whom his own personal
relations would become tense) and Martin Wight (whose erudition awed Howard).
Conversely, this heuristic tool kit shaped by strategy, linked past, present and future
in one body of knowledge – war studies. Howard’s approach had been consistently
historical in its exegesis. He with others, such as the lapsed historian, Sir Laurence
Martin, as well as Alistair Buchan and Philip Windsor, pioneered the academic study
of strategy. Academic writers in the US, especially Brodie and Henry Kissinger, would
acquire immense influence, indeed, Kissinger served as Secretary of State in the
13
72
Michael Howard, Disengagement in Europe (London: Penguin, 1958), pp. 24-25, 86, 90-91, 92.
Nixon and Ford Administrations, 1973-77. Howard was content with the Kantian
formulation that politicians and civil servants even if they were left to run the country
should at least ‘listen to what academics had to say’. His role was much more modest
than Kissinger’s, as intellectual inspiration to Denis Healey while Secretary of State
for Defence, 1964-70, but he was listened to.14 His important role in establishing the
Institute (later International Institute) for Strategic Studies (ISS) to create ‘a milieu’
for informed discussion is in some respects more enduring in taking forward, as we
shall see, the evolution of strategic ideas. From the 1950s onwards the study of
strategy could never be regarded as a military monopoly.15
It almost goes without saying that Howard’s study of strategy - like Liddell Hart’s was rooted in his understanding of the past. He had consistently argued that those
who wrote about nuclear strategy and studied history ‘talked more sense’ than those
who had not.16 He also remained loyal to Liddell Hart’s definition of strategy, which
he described in his important study, ‘The Classical Strategists’, originally published as
part of Problems of Modern Strategy (ISS, Adelphi Paper No. 54, 1969) ‘as good as any,
and better than most’. Howard considered strategy a ’dialectic of two opposing wills’.
Strategy must be related to the fundamental correlation of power. States should
‘organize the relevant elements of the external world to satisfy their needs’. They
were required to coerce their enemy and must be able ‘to use violence for the
protection, enforcement or extension of authority’. His liberal realism is best
summed up in the remark that ‘states are cold monsters who mate for convenience
and self-protection, not love’. Howard was far more pragmatic than Liddell Hart. He
underlined that the vital strategic element in the study of international relations which had frequently been ignored before the nuclear age - was both descriptive and
prescriptive; Liddell Hart tended to conflate the two elements. The ‘descriptive
function’, Howard wrote, sought to analyse ‘the extent to which the political units
have the capacity to use or to threaten the use of armed force to impose their will
on other units;’ the prescriptive analytical function recommended policies that
‘operate in an international system which is subject to such conditions and restraints’.
There is evidence here, too, of an attempt to draw up a historically inspired
conceptual framework for the study of strategy. It has shifted its focus many miles
away from Liddell Hart’s incorrigibly operational focus.17
14
See Howard, Captain Professor, p.161.
Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives (LHCMA), Liddell Hart Papers 1/384, Michael Howard
to Liddell Hart, 16 October 1958. All subsequent references are to this source in the LHCMA, King’s
College London. I am grateful to the Trustees for permission to quote from copyright material.
16
Letter to the author, 3 July 2008.
17
Michael Howard, Studies in War and Peace (London: Temple Smith, 1970), pp. 154, 209, 235;
idem, The Causes of Wars (London: Temple Smith, 1983), pp. 36, 61; Liberation or Catastrophe? Reflections on
the History of the Twentieth Century (London: Continuum, 2007), p. 129.
15
www.bjmh.org.uk
73
It is notable too that Howard attempted to reduce the issues of war and peace to
their indisputable, fundamental elements rather than issue a list of maxims. He
offered instead an attempt to improve understanding by clarifying the social context in
which strategy operated; hence Howard’s work paralleled that of Bernard Brodie.
Unlike Brodie he did not produce a dedicated volume on the subject. In the TrevorRoper tradition he wrote a series of concise, scintillating and beautifully written
studies that eventually appeared in volumes of collected essays. These had an impact
disproportionate to their length in a field cluttered by clichés, dreary jargon and
latterly, of course, the dreaded, impenetrable ‘management speak’.
In ‘The Classical Strategists’, Howard defined this school as those who acknowledge
the existence of force in international relations, and believe ‘that it can and must be
intelligently controlled, but that it cannot be totally eliminated’. Although he may be
acknowledging also his own creed here,18 Howard appeared to conclude that the day
of the classical school had past. He argued that strategy in all its forms ‘must take as
its starting point an understanding of the political – including the social and economic
– context out of which these conflicts arise or were likely to arise. Inevitably the
interaction works both ways’. Strategic advocacy without this understanding cannot
and should not dictate the statesman’s course. Howard pointed to the importance of
political scientists at one end of the spectrum ‘and of physical scientists, systems
analysts and mathematical economists at the other’; he thus called into question
classical strategy ‘as a self-sufficient study’, as the maintenance of a stable, nuclear
strategy increasingly drew on national resources across the board. A work such as
Morton H. Halperin’s Contemporary Military Strategy (1968) envisaged war in almost
exclusively nuclear terms, and is very typical of thinking of the time in its utter
rejection of traditional modes of thought; in this approach, he was hardly wrong, and
Howard was influenced by the seemingly compelling logic that the ways of the future
had no apparent connection with the past. A hint of the influence of nuclear strategy
on Howard’s thinking can be detected in one of his most significant edited works, the
festschrift he organised for Liddell Hart’s 70th birthday, The Theory and Practice of War
(1965), which brought the thinking of his acolytes together in one place. Howard’s
essay on ‘Jomini and the Classical Tradition in Military Thought’ was gently critical of
the key assumptions of the classical school, especially lists of the principles of war.
These seemed in the nuclear age to have as much life and presence as the proverbial
dodo; an appropriate if unoriginal simile. as the dodo was flightless, and all strategists
were agreed that the weapons that really counted would be airborne.19
18
As pointed out by Lawrence Freedman, ‘Strategic Studies and the Problem of Power’, in L.
Freedman, P. Hayes and R. O’Neill, eds.,War, Strategy and International Politics (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1972), p. 279.
19
Michael Howard, ‘Jomini and the Classical Tradition in Military Thought’, in idem (ed.), The
Theory and Practice of War: Essays Presented to Captain B.H. Liddell Hart (London: Cassell, 1965), p. 13; idem,
74
The most important point of departure from Liddell Hart’s teaching would
undoubtedly be Howard’s restoration of respectability to the strategy of attrition
long described by Liddell Hart as valueless if not self-destructive. A consistent theme
of his historical works is that no amount of operational brilliance could overturn the
resources of a superior coalition, especially if its members mobilized their resources
with determination and vigour. Much of Howard’s historical work in the 1970s was
directed towards a thorough demolition of some of Liddell Hart’s prized shibboleths,
not least, the idea he advanced in the early 1930s of a ‘British Way in Warfare’, an
amphibious strategy designed to seize overseas possessions in order to trade in
negotiations for a compromise peace. Howard was critical both of Liddell Hart’s
historical method and the utility of such a strategy and made the case for the
Continental Commitment that Liddell Hart abhorred. But more importantly, the
political and social context of the strategic scene, as Howard understood it, was
changing, too. So by the late 1970s such insights informed his writings on
contemporary strategy. These form part of the prelude to another important revival
in classical thinking. Whereas in 1969 Howard suggested that strategic manoeuvres
were often in essence political manoeuvres, in two significant articles written after
the end of the Vietnam War, ‘The Relevance of Traditional Strategy’ and ‘The
Forgotten Dimensions of Strategy’, both originally published in Foreign Affairs,
Howard demonstrated over the next decade and more that the social and political
context of strategy had changed. It gave renewed importance to the military
dimension, to armed forces, that is, an area of activity still designated as ‘conventional’
strategy. The first argued that conventional forces might be employed ‘so as to
minimise the possibility of the adversary using his forces at all, and to maximize the
credibility of the nuclear threat of their own government’. That is, they could shore
up deterrence by rendering nuclear war unnecessary but make the threat of the use
of these weapons more convincing. The second essay affirms that ‘forgotten
dimensions’ - logistics and resources – forces lurking far from the battlefield – could
negate operational skill; another significant departure, even within the classical
framework, from Liddell Hart’s teaching.20
Did this approach commit the West to an inevitable nuclear slogging match with the
Soviet Union? In answering this question Howard expanded on two themes:
responsibility and reassurance. Responsibility must be demonstrated in maintaining
the existing, stable alliance structure and thus balance between NATO and the
Warsaw Pact which permitted deterrence to continue. Reassurance required
compromise, caution and mutual tolerance to keep the international temperature
Studies in War and Peace, p. 183; Morton H. Halperin, Contemporary Military Strategy (London: Faber and
Faber, 1968), pp. 41-42, notes his scepticism over quantitative techniques as a driver of policy.
20
Both reprinted in Causes of Wars, see pp. 98-99, 103-5 especially.
www.bjmh.org.uk
75
cool and not alarm western electorates unnecessarily or fan incipient anti-American
feeling. Here are archetypal Liddell Hart themes, even expressed later as ‘lessons’.21
The other important development of the indirect approach took place in the country
of Liddell Hart’s birth, France, by General André Beaufre (1902-75). Beaufre was
educated at St Cyr, commissioned into the infantry and first met Liddell Hart in the
spring of 1935. He joined Free France in 1942, and served as Deputy Chief of Staff
Land Forces Western Europe, in Indo-China (where he helped extract Liddell Hart’s
son, Adrian, from his ‘engagement’ with the Foreign Legion), in Algeria, Suez,
Germany and Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) as Deputy
Chief of Staff Logistics. He retired in 1961 after a stint on the NATO Standing
Committee in Washington DC.22 Beaufre was a brilliant intellect, a man of demanding
standards and sharp tongue who was something of ‘a lone wolf among military men’.
He agreed with Liddell Hart’s views on the need to find ‘intellectuellement sur
‘l’ordre d’urgence’; as Howard appealed to Liddell Hart’s frustrated academic side,
Beaufre appealed to the military dimension of that complex character. Beaufre also
had the self-confidence and high military rank not only to disagree with Liddell Hart
but to not always follow the ‘authorised version’ of his past as the prophet of
blitzkrieg. For instance, he did not hesitate to mention the defensive arguments
Liddell Hart had made in 1939, rather than the later stress placed in the 1950s and
1960s on armoured mobility, an audacity of a different kind which on occasion took
the master’s breath away.23
Nonetheless this remained a relationship of real warmth. Much merriment was
caused in the Liddell Hart household when the latter introduced Beaufre to some
friends and colleagues, who on hearing Beaufre’s excellent English, ‘were under the
impression that you were my son – and remarked how well you spoke French,
evidently comparing your fluency in the language with my stumbling efforts’. As
Beaufre was only seven years younger than Liddell Hart this is more a tribute to his
charm, eternal youthfulness and bilingual capacity than to any imagined family likeness.
But he did regard Liddell Hart as ‘mon parrain’ - like a godparent - his godfather in
military studies. Beaufre also shared some qualities with Howard, not least his
authority, elegance of style and concision. Liddell Hart singled out for praise his
lucidity, a quality which he praised in Howard’s work, too. Howard and Beaufre
21
Michael Howard, ‘The Lessons of the Cold War’, Survival, 36 (1994-95), pp. 161-66.
B. H. Liddell Hart, Memoirs, (London: Cassell, 1965), I, p. 273; André Beaufre, ‘Liddell Hart and
the French Army, 1919-1939’, in Howard (ed.), Theory and Practice of War, p. 140; Liddell Hart to Beaufre,
20 December 1951; also see Beaufre’s c.v. 1/49/11/66
23
The Times, 14 February 1973 obituary, copy in 1/49; Beaufre to Liddell Hart, 18 January 1951
1/40/83; see Liddell Hart’s comment to Beaufre (29 June 1959) on the lack in NATO of ‘very flexible
minds and exceptionally strong characters’ to engage in complex strategies. Liddell Hart to Desmond
Flower, 18 September; Liddell Hart to Beaufre, 6 November 1967 1/49/83/208/212 Are these from the
Liddell Hart papers?
22
76
collaborated on the festschrift and also discussed Liddell Hart’s Memoirs together on
the BBC in November 1965.24
Beaufre had begun work on An Introduction to Strategy, in which he developed the
theory of an ‘indirect strategy’, while he was still serving. Although Beaufre wrote
many books, it is his development of the indirect approach in this work that shall be
the focus of attention here. ‘I know that you will not agree completely’, he admitted
to Liddell Hart, ‘but truth comes out of divergent views’. The development of
Beaufre’s ideas had been greatly aided by two important lectures he delivered in
London. The first was to the Military Commentator’s Circle on 15 June 1959 before
a distinguished audience, ‘Military Factors in the Defence of Europe’. He stressed the
psychological factor in the ‘state of flux’ and ‘rapid change’ and ‘the absolute break
with past experience’ that characterised the nuclear stalemate. Psychological bluff
was ‘woven into a subtle web of deterrents to impress the enemy and reassure our
allies’. Underneath the over-arching nuclear deterrent, lurked what Beaufre called
‘the critical point... a manoeuvre of indirect strategy that employed insidious means
to attain limited goals’. This indirect strategy exploited deterrence while the ‘political
atmosphere is favourable’. He called for a new, subtle strategy of ‘calculated
ambiguities’ – almost the perfect term to describe the indirect approach.25
The second lecture Beaufre delivered at the ISS on 26 November 1964 in a bid to
‘launch’ the publication of the English translation to be published early the following
year. He advocated strategy as a ‘method of thought’ to discover the means most
suitable to attain the political aim of the conflict. The aim – the ‘key’ (a favourite
Liddell Hart metaphor) – of strategy should be ‘[f]reedom of action’. He agreed with
Howard that disarmament presented dangers, not least ‘the danger of conventional
wars’; the ‘golden rule’ appeared to be ‘that in our world peace is imposed by a
danger’. In this dangerous world, indirect means might flourish.26
The final version revealed a gifted theoretician. Beaufre described it himself as ‘ce
petit livre une surface plus grand’. 27 The French title of the book caused some
discussion because it gave the impression of being a primer when it was nothing of
the sort; but Beaufre insisted on its retention. The English version was translated by
Major General R.H. Barry, a grandson of the architect, Sir Charles Barry, previously
chief of staff and director of plans to the Executive Director (CD) of the Special
24
Beaufre to Liddell Hart, 8 December 1963, 4 November 1965; Liddell Hart to Beaufre, 20 July
1964, 8 November 1965 1/49/128/177/178/220.
25
Beaufre to Liddell Hart, 16 October 1959; copy of the lecture, ‘Military Factors in the Defence
of Europe’ 1/49/80/87, pp. 1-2. The audience included among many others, Rt. Hon. George Brown MP,
R.T. Paget QC, MP, Rt. Hon. John Strachey MP and young Major A.H. Farrar-Hockley, a future NATO
CinC.
26
‘Contemporary Strategy’, ISS Lecture, 26 November 1964, copy in 1/49/168.
27
Beaufre to Liddell Hart, n.d. [? December 1962], 18 January 1963 1/49/112/115.
www.bjmh.org.uk
77
Operations Executive (SOE), whose subsequent career in NATO had shadowed
Beaufre’s.28
In seeking a workable philosophy, Beaufre rejected history as a prime explanatory
tool, though he included a host of historical references in the text; instead he tried to
expose and explain the basic ideas underlying strategy, what he termed its ‘algebra’.
He rejected Liddell Hart’s definition as too concerned with military operations. He
preferred to define strategy as ‘the art of applying force so that it makes the most
effective contribution towards the ends set by political activity’. Here Beaufre
indicated agreement with and attempted to develop the post-war consensus (which
would be periodically challenged) that strategy was above all an art. Liddell Hart, 40
years before and responding to a quite different set of intellectual currents, had
viewed it as the product of scientific thinking. In Beaufre’s opinion the main priority of
strategy should be the creation and exploitation of circumstances ‘resulting in sufficient
moral disintegration of the enemy’ who will eventually accept the conditions ‘it is
desired to impose upon him’. He seemed dismissive of academic efforts as
‘[m]ountains of paper’ but he considered that his own equally elaborate analysis
would provide the ‘essential ingredients of the overall strategy’. Beaufre’s is indeed a
military intellectual’s book and includes principles, patterns and rules of strategy,
though the whole is very stimulating and drawn up in accordance with the classical
tradition. Yet he made a great point – unlike Liddell Hart – of avoiding the
compulsion to justify any of the courses suggested therein.
Beaufre did make the case for his governing theorem, which he labelled ‘total
strategy’, as this would embrace all the factors involved in a ‘clash of wills’. He found
room for manoeuvre in the Cold War restricted because of the dangers of escalation.
Hence the importance he attached to the psychological weapon. In developing his
ideas he at long last abandoned use of the word ‘approach’ and referred categorically
to ‘indirect strategy’. This he considered to be a ‘must’ for the weaker side. Beaufre
held that the indirect strategy combining ideas, moral pressure and the ‘geographical
area where it is designed to obtain certain results’, could produce ‘a prolonged
conflict so designed and organized that it becomes more and more burdensome to
the enemy’. His experience in Indo-China and Algeria had a massive bearing on the
way he envisaged the strategy developing. It was vital, he believed, that the West
snatched back the initiative, as he warned that ‘it is an exception for the defence to
be successful;’ Beaufre thus envisaged indirect strategy as an element of total strategy,
not a cure-all, a strategy in a minor key.29
28
See M.R.D. Foot, SOE in France Second Edition (London: HMSO, 1968), pp. 18-19; on Barry’s
linguistic skill, see idem, ‘Barry, Richard Hugh (1908-99)’, in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 60
volumes (Oxford University Press, 2004), IV, p. 149.
29
André Beaufre, An Introduction to Strategy (London: Faber and Faber, 1965), pp. 12, 13. 14, 22,
57, 99, 110-16, 127, all references are to this edition.
78
The very clarity of Beaufre’s exposition ensured that areas of agreement were clearly
sign-posted. Liddell Hart objected to the use of the term total strategy because he
claimed it would be confused with ‘total war’. Beaufre would not be swayed, he
disliked the term grand strategy, which Liddell Hart suggested as a substitute, and
national strategy ‘du americains’ even more. Michael Howard hailed the book’s
publication in France (along with Raymond Aron’s Le Grand Debat) as ‘an event of
major importance in the history of strategic thought’. Yet he also thought the book
occasionally too masterly. Beaufre stretched the definition of strategy almost to
breaking point. He forced international relations to conform to strategy, Howard
argued, and in dismissing the accidental or contingent he tended to fashion the
West’s political leaders in an image demanded by the strategist. This did not happen
often, as Howard wittily remarked of de Gaulle, ‘even when that political master is a
General’. Developing this theme in ‘The Classical Strategists’, Howard pointed out
that what Beaufre had really done was to draw up a theory of international relations
as much as of strategy. But his theory neglected numerous political and social factors,
for the world was not as polarised as he had claimed, and the sway of communist
dictatorships was less unchallenged than he assumed. ‘Strategy’, Howard concluded,
‘must certainly be shaped by the needs of policy; but policy cannot be made to fit
quite so easily into the Procrustean concepts of the professional strategist’.30
By comparison with either Howard or Beaufre, neither Bernard Brodie nor Henry
Kissinger fit within the Liddell Hart tradition. This is perhaps not surprising as after
1945, Liddell Hart, Howard and Beaufre contributed to an essentially European
counterpoint to American strategic ideas. Yet Liddell Hart had many American
admirers. Brodie proudly announced that he had been ‘a follower of yours’ since
1952 after the detonation of a thermonuclear weapon. They agreed on specific
points: on the need to limit war but avoid major one-sided disarmament, and on the
challenges presented by any effort to develop ‘appropriate’ skills among Western
leaders; Brodie even took Liddell Hart’s side in his disputes with John Terraine over
the conduct of the First World War. He admitted that he had been ‘outraged’ by
Terraine’s arguments that reduced the overall British casualties at the Third Battle of
Ypres (Passchendaele) in 1917. But Brodie was too independent-minded to accept
Liddell Hart’s suggested modifications to his theory of deterrence, especially its
historic roots; Brodie was nobody’s acolyte. Such reflections seem even more
pertinent to Kissinger. He was sincere in his expressions of admiration for Liddell
Hart’s work. The invitation to contribute to Liddell Hart’s festschrift brought ‘me so
much pleasure’, he later told its honorand. But again, it is their dedication to the
limitation of war which brought them together, though they differed in substantial
30
Liddell Hart to Beaufre, 15 April; Beaufre to Liddell Hart, 22 April 1964 1/49/139/141; Howard
review, Survival, 6 No. 3 (May-June 1964), pp. 146-47; Studies in War and Peace, p. 182.
www.bjmh.org.uk
79
detail as to how this might be achieved; Kissinger specifically warned of the dangers
of ‘panaceas’ in his contribution to The Theory and Practice of War.31
So where do we leave Liddell Hart’s canon? The writer Vita Sackville-West once
observed that ‘the fun of the historian consists partly in destroying his own theories
once he has built them up’.32 Certainly, Liddell Hart’s carefully constructed image of
himself has been dismantled by historians, though it has not yet been replaced with a
coherent, alternative view. It is perhaps no coincidence that the most devastating
assaults on Liddell Hart’s reputation have come from the United States, notably in
John J. Mearsheimer’s Liddell Hart and the Weight of History (1988).33 The ‘weight’ of
Mearsheimer’s history is directed towards the years before 1945 and he makes too
much of Liddell Hart’s manipulation of his friends. Howard and Beaufre both owed
Liddell Hart a deep debt of gratitude, but this did not prevent them from developing
his ideas afresh, discarding them or constructively revising them when required. They
of course brought their own preoccupations and the benefit of their diverse
experiences to bear on his strategic framework. They found most utility in his ideas
concerning strategy and policy. Those that follow their path, especially military men,
may find Liddell Hart’s operational and tactical ideas equally stimulating. What later
commentators should not do is accept uncritically Liddell Hart’s own linkage of the
various aspects of his work. If Michael Howard is right in thinking that Liddell Hart
transformed the nature of military thought, then he and General Beaufre have played
a most important part in carrying that transformation forward.
31
Brodie to Liddell Hart, 26 April 1957, 3 February, 2 March 1960 1/109/2/13/15; Kissinger,
‘American Strategic Doctrine and Diplomacy’, in Theory and Practice of War, p. 291.
32
V. Sackville-West, Saint Joan of Arc (London: Folio Society edition, 1995 [1936]), p. 54.
33
John J. Mearsheimer, Liddell Hart and the Weight of History (London: Brassey’s, 1988).
80
DIVIDED LOYALTIES
BCMH New Researchers in Military History article
Divided Loyalties: The Effect the Boer War and its
Aftermath had on how Irish Nationalists interpreted
the Irish Soldier Serving in the British Army
ALAN DRUMM
University College Cork
ABSTRACT
The Boer War proved to be hugely important in the evolution of Irish
Nationalism. The conflict would bring about the reunion of constitutional
Nationalists under John Redmond and grant advanced Nationalists the
opportunity to express their militant politics. This paper will detail how
both groups responded to the war in South Africa by examining their
interpretations of British military recruiting in Ireland and that of the Irish
soldier. The article will conclude by finding that the British military largely
viewed Irish Nationalism negatively as a result.
The outbreak of the Boer War on 11 October 1899 provided the perfect
opportunity for Irish Nationalists to unite behind a single issue for the first time since
the fall of Charles Stewart Parnell. The South African conflict created the
environment in which the Irish Parliamentary Party would reunite. Furthermore the
opening phase of the war facilitated co-operation between the moderate
Parliamentary Party and the Irish Transvaal Committee, dominated by more extreme
or advanced Nationalists, based on their united opposition to both the conflict and
enlistment. It is little wonder then that R.F. Foster argued that the Boer War was ‘as
nearly as crucial an event for Irish Nationalism as the death of Parnell.’1
Nevertheless as the conflict progressed, divisions between the Transvaal Committee,
whose leaders included Maud Gonne, Arthur Griffith and James Connolly, and
1
R.F. Foster, Modern Ireland 1600-1972 (London: Penguin Books, 1988), p.448.
www.bjmh.org.uk
81
constitutional Nationalists led by Parliamentarians such as John Redmond and John
Dillon would come to the fore. Using their partisan publications, the Irish
Parliamentary Party and the Irish Transvaal Committee, in the Freemans Journal and
The United Irishman respectively, employed divergent strategies in dealing with
recruitment. Both newspapers were guilty of over emphasising the success of their
respective counter recruitment campaigns, which as Keith Jeffery noted ‘only had a
slight impact, if any at all, on recruitment’.2 However it is not the success or failure of
the Nationalist campaigns that is the focus of this article, it is how the competing
interpretations of the Irish soldier held by constitutional and advanced Nationalists
led to division between them and the longer term effect this had upon Irish
Nationalism.
Even before the conflict erupted it was becoming clear that Nationalists of all shades
were going to oppose the Boer War. Terence Denman wrote, ‘weeks before the
Boer War had broken out, and the question of seducing 'stalwart peasant lads to
“take the shilling” was becoming one of acute political concern in Ireland.’ 3 As
rumours of the brewing conflict circulated in the press throughout the months
preceding the Boer War, Nationalists emphasised their support for the President
Kruger and the Boers. On 16 January 1898 the Chairman of the Arcklow Town
Commissioners proclaimed, ‘The only feeling which Irishmen could have for England
in her hour of trial, which now seemed at hand, was one of joy and jubilation that
retribution should come to her for all the wrongs she had inflicted upon Ireland.’4
Later the chairman called for cheers in honour of President Kruger and remarked
‘that any elements which were working for the disintegration of the British Empire
should be welcomed by Irish nationalists at the present time.’5 In June Maud Gonne
told a meeting in Dublin that,
Today the cup of England’s iniquity was full to overflowing and today
the world knew England as she had not been understood a hundred
years ago, for she stood today, in truth, without a friend in the
world. The hour of justice would yet come to England, as it had to
every other country that was a country of tyranny and oppression…
It had well been said that England’s difficulty was Ireland’s
opportunity. Let them keep that for England’s difficulty might be
close at hand.
2
Keith Jeffery, An Irish Empire?: Aspects of Ireland and The British Empire (Manchester, Manchester
University Press, 1996), p.97.
3
Terence Denman, “The Red Livery of Shame: The Campaign Against Army Recruitment in
Ireland, 1899-1914,” Irish Historical Studies, xxix, no. 114 (1994), p.208.
4
The Freemans Journal, 16 January 1898.
5
Ibid.
82
DIVIDED LOYALTIES
Gonne continued, ’in this year of ’98 no Irishman would join the English Army or
navy.’ Gonne also believed Irishmen enlisted because ‘the English, in fact, did all they
could to precipitate a condition of starvation in order to encourage the recruitment
of Irishmen as British soldiers.’6
The Parliamentarians also weighed in behind the pre-war anti-recruiting campaign.
The Irish Party MP, Frank Hugh O’Donnell, wrote in the The United Irishman, ‘It was
not the example of Parnell or even of O’Connell which filled and still fills whole
brigades of the English Army with mercenaries from Ireland.’7 Peter Karsten found
‘the Irish regiments embarking for service during the Boer War were hooted down
the Dublin quays by Redmondite critics of the war because they were loyal to their
oath.’8 On 2 October Nationalists then held their first meeting to condemn British
actions in South Africa. The platform was dominated by members of the newly
formed Irish Transvaal committee, an organisation led by advanced Nationalists, but
members of the Irish Party were also present. John O’Leary, an ex-Fenian, was first
to speak and was met with massive roars of approval. However the biggest cheer
was held for the unfurling of the Boer flag by another ex-Fenian P.J. O’Brien. Maud
Gonne then took the opportunity to announce,
It was a terrible sorrow and humiliation to know that there were
regiments of Irish name who had gone out to fight against the Boers;
but it was hoped that those soldiers that those soldiers when they
saw the green flag of Ireland waving side by side with the banner of
the Transvaal would, even at the eleventh hour remember that they
were Irishmen, and cast off the hideous English uniform.’9 She then
informed the audience ‘one thing [we] could clearly put a stop to…
[is] recruiting in Ireland… England should be prevented from filling
up the breaches made in the ranks by Boer bullets, and Irishmen
should not be available to replace troops sent to South Africa. In
order to prevent recruiting in Ireland, they must take united action
– they must call on all Nationalist papers to do everything in their
power against it… The recruiting sergeants throughout Ireland must
be watched, and if necessary, followed, into the places where most
of their work was done – into the public houses.10
6
Ibid.
The United Irishman, 16 September 1899.
8
Peter Karsten, ’Irish Soldiers in the British Army, 1792-1922: suborned or subordinated,’
Journal of Social History, XVII (1983-84), p.47.
9
Ibid.
10
Ibid.
7
www.bjmh.org.uk
83
While the counter recruiting campaign seemed to be bringing together the forces of
constitutional and advanced nationalism, there were already differences emerging
between the competing ideologies. At the same meeting John Redmond objected to
the conflict on the basis that it was imperialistic. He told those present, ‘it would be a
disgrace if Ireland did not clearly show her sympathies with the Transvaal now, when
a most unjust attack is being made upon its freedom.’11 Although T.D. O’Sullivan, told
the same gathering, ‘That this meeting condemns all enlistment of Irishmen in the
English Army.’ He did go on to say that he ‘could not blame some of the poor fellows
who had taken the shilling and put on the red coat’ but ‘In a crisis of this kind, in his
opinion, the man that did so acted the part of enemy to his country.’12 Despite the
disparity the Royal Irish Constabulary reported that ‘the disloyal sentiment, which
leads to expressions of good will to the Boers, is decidedly wide-spread, and is
encouraged and intensified by British reverses.’ Though they also noted ‘It is,
however, only a sentiment as yet.’13
Maud Gonne took advantage of the existing sentiment by establishing, Inghinidhe na
hÉireann, or Daughters of Ireland. They distributed anti-recruitment leaflets and
spoke about the evils of Irish girls consorting with British soldiers. Controversially
Gonne had some of her supporters follow soldiers distributing leaflets as they went,
which often led to fracas.14 In her autobiography Gonne claimed, outlandishly, that
the campaign of Inghinidhe na hÉireann ‘almost stopped enlistment for the British
Army in Dublin and considerably reduced it throughout the country.’15 The Irish
Transvaal Committee also adopted some of the strategies employed by the
Parliamentarians, such as pointing out the fortunes of old soldiers who did not qualify
for a pension. Gonne wrote, ‘Old, broken down, and hopeless, they cower around
the fires or wander aimlessly and drearily round the dismal courtyards of the
workhouses – those Irishmen who forgot Ireland and wore the English red.’16
Although advanced Nationalists were profiting from the conflict, constitutional
Nationalists became caught between representing the rights of Irish soldiers while
opposing recruitment. After the news broke of how the Dublin Fusiliers were
decimated at the battle of Glencoe, Michael Flavin told Parliament ‘Their mothers
and sisters to-day in Ireland are weeping for their lost relatives who have won a
glorious victory for you, but many of these mothers and sisters may have to be
11
The Freemans Journal 2 October 1899.
Freemans Journal, 22 September 1899.
13
The National Archives, Kew, London [TNA], CO 904/69/705, ’Inspector General's and County
Inspectors' monthly confidential reports’, January 1900.
14
Maud Gonne MacBride, A servant of the Queen (Buckinghamshire: Colin Smythe Limited, 1994),
p.267.
15
Ibid., p.268.
16
The United Irishman, 14 October 1899.
12
84
DIVIDED LOYALTIES
supported in the Irish workhouses.’17 Such statements served to distance themselves
from the Transvaal Committee. Michael Davitt, whose background lay in advanced
Nationalism, went a step further and resigned from parliament on 25 October 1899
with the intention of touring the Transvaal in support of the Boers. The emerging
disunity between Parliamentarians and advanced Nationalists led to the authorities to
believe that ‘one decisive British victory would go far to put an end to the present
feeling; and it would certainly encourage many Nationalists, who now hesitate to
speak out, to express their real sentiments as to the Boers.’18
However British victories were not forthcoming, serving to intensify Irish opposition
to recruitment. During November members of the Transvaal Committee visited
Cork. In a symbolic gesture, the horses pulling the carriage carrying Maud Gonne and
Arthur Griffith were detached and the carriage dragged to the Victoria Hotel in the
city where the Mayor once more highlighted the differing approaches taken by
competing ideologies. Although the moderate Mayor, Eugene Crean, declared ‘it was
a matter of regret that so many Irishmen were in the British Army… God keep our
people from the British Army; God save them from ever joining its ranks.’ He also let
it be known that ‘with those men it was either starvation at home or the red coat.’19
In contrast J.C. Flynn asked why ‘Irishmen had to bear the burdens and do the bloody
work of England in the Transvaal.’20
On 17 December 1899 the Transvaal Committee organised a major protest at
Beresford Place in Dublin to coincide with the visit of Joseph Chamberlain. Despite
the authorities banning the demonstration, advanced Nationalists went ahead with it.
This resulted in clashes between Nationalists and the police throughout the city as
the authorities attempted to arrest its organisers, Maud Gonne, James Connolly,
George A. Lyons, E.W. Stewart and Arthur Griffith. Although three members of the
Irish Party were to join with the above in Beresford Place, they choose not to.
Instead Michael Davitt, Patrick O’Brien and William Redmond met with the leaders
of the Beresford Place demonstration at the headquarters of the Transvaal
Committee, where a meeting was chaired by John O’Leary.21 While the incident once
more demonstrates the overlapping nature of the counter recruiting campaign, it also
highlights the subtle differences between the two Nationalists groups, as the
Parliamentarians chose not to attend the illegal meeting but a following one in the
offices of the Transvaal Committee.
17
HC Deb 25 October 1899 vol 77 cc696.
TNA, CO 904/69/706, ’Inspector General's and County Inspectors' monthly confidential
reports’, January 1900.
19
The Freemans Journal, 14 November 1899.
20
Ibid.
21
The Freeman’s Journal, 18 December 1899.
18
www.bjmh.org.uk
85
Whereas advanced Nationalists choose to confront the authorities, moderates began
to highlight the losses suffered by the Irish Regiments during the early stages of the
war to make life increasingly difficult for recruiters. The Freeman’s Journal noted ‘the
English regiments have lost 2,420, the Irish 1,680 and the Scottish 1,300. As there are
nearly twenty five English battalions, only five Irish and nine Scottish, the
apportionment of the work of the campaign can hardly be regarded as judicial. On the
Irish proportion the English losses should now be over eight thousand, and the
Scottish nearly four.’22 John Redmond complained in Parliament that ‘there were 120
Irishmen killed or wounded to 56 Englishmen.’23 Although Redmond was attempting
to impede recruitment by highlighting Irish casualties, he was also representing Irish
soldiers, who were after all constituents. Redmond explained why he did so stating
that,
There is scarcely a family in Ireland, from the poor people who live
in Dublin slums, to the highest in the land that is not represented in
one shape or other at the front. This is more the case with regard
to Ireland than it is here, because in proportion to the population a
larger number of our people take to soldiering for the mere love of
the calling than with you… I as an Irishman cannot help feeling a
thrill of pride at the record and heroism of the Irish lads from Mayo
and Roscommon.24
William Redmond, who was more radical than his brother, held similar a view. He
told Parliament that,
It is perfectly true that there are Irishmen in South Africa fighting as
gallantly as Irishmen always have done in every part of the world.
These men we consider are in the wrong… We believe that these
men, under better circumstances, would never lend their sanction
to this war; but being engaged in it we hold that their gallantry and
bravery ought not to be made a matter of taunt to us, because we
are as proud of it as any other people.25
Swift MacNeill asked Parliament why were the Inniskilling Fusiliers ‘who were placed
by Sir Redvers Buller in the forefront [of battle], but [were] never mentioned in the
dispatches’ and ‘why Irish officers were being passed over’ for promotion.26 Jasper
22
23
24
25
26
86
The Freemans Journal, 30 December 1899.
HC Deb 07 February 1900 vol 78 cc834.
HC Deb 28 May 1900 vol 83 cc1562-1568.
DIVIDED LOYALTIES
Tully also campaigned for the rights of returning soldiers. After mocking the Army’s
performance in South Africa, Tully declared that,
…in Ireland the privates who fought in the Crimea were mostly to be found
in the workhouses. The Irishmen who have gone out to this war will be
treated when they come back just in the same way as the soldiers who went
out and fought for you against Russia during the Crimean War.27
While it may have been possible at the beginning of the war for moderate and
advanced Nationalists to stand on the same platform, the Parliamentary Party’s policy
of opposing the war and recruitment but at the same time praising and representing
the rights of Irish soldiers prevented this. Although this was to succeed in the short
term, in the long term they gave advanced Nationalists a platform from which they
could promote their ideology, which had up to this point been smothered by the
Parliamentarians.
The Transvaal Committee began to take full advantage of this opportunity by
continuing to take a more forthright stance. In The United Irishman they wrote,
No feeling of sorrow fills us for the men with Irish names who have
met the death they deserved at the hands of the Boers. Let England
mourn them if she will. They died for her – these Irish Hessians… A
hair of the head of one Dutchman, standing out for freedom in
South Africa today, is more precious to us than all the lives of the
Royal Dublin Fusiliers.28
Maud Gonne went further. In Cork she claimed that Irish losses were
proportionately higher because ‘England was carrying out her policy of exterminating
the Irish people.’29 The combined Nationalist campaigns were producing results. The
RIC found that
the most serious result of their activity has perhaps been the
interference with recruiting and Militia volunteering which has been
persistently attempted by private persuasion and open distribution
of leaflets of more or less seditious character… vast numbers of
these objectionable publications have been circulated.30
27
The United Irishman, 28 October 1899.
29
The United Irishman, 18 November 1899.
30
TNA, CO 904/70/7, ’Inspector General's and County Inspectors' monthly confidential reports’,
February 1900.
28
www.bjmh.org.uk
87
In spite of the genuine sympathies felt toward the Boers the Police also believed that
‘in many places, the pro Boer feeling is observed to be on the decline, as the more
sensible Nationalists recognise the consequences to themselves of a British defeat;
and in addition, they sympathise with the Irish soldiers who have fought so gallantly at
the front.’ 31 It was the officer’s second point which advanced Nationalist found
difficult to hurdle. Although the public supported the drive against recruitment, they
would not vilify the Irish soldier, who was recognised for his bravery as much as being
identified as a victim of economic circumstance.
This was to become clear during the South Mayo by-election in March 1900. The
Irish Transvaal Committee put forward Major John MacBride to contest the election
and had every reason to be confident. MacBride, a native of county Mayo, was the
commander the Irish Transvaal Brigade fighting alongside the Boers. The seat had
been vacated by Davitt who gave it up in protest over the war, although Davitt did
not approve of MacBride’s nomination because he was not selected at a convention.32
Ironically though MacBride did not even know of his nomination and did not wish to
be elected as he ‘did not believe that Ireland’s freedom could be gained through the
good graces of the English Parliament and people.’ 33 Nevertheless the Transvaal
Committee confidently began to step up their attacks on Redmond and the
Parliamentarians. In late January The United Irishman commented, ‘The men who sit in
the British Parliament and pose as the leaders of the Irish people are looking on
silently at the sacrifice of the helpless ones of the English Moloch.’34 Using The United
Irishman they further berated the Parliamentary Party, asking, ‘Will you not even visit
your own constituents? The Dublin Militia are only two hour’s rail from you. The
Wexfords are at Aldershot. The South Cork at Dover - just on the way to Paris you
know.’35
The response of the Parliamentary Party was not at all coordinated. They were
caught by surprise by news of MacBride’s nomination and their candidate John
O’Donnell was as William O’Brien put it ‘a stripling barely out of his teens.’36 Worse
was to come for O’Brien and the Parliamentary Party when it was revealed that
O’Donnell had once tried to join the Royal Irish Constabulary. Then O’Donnell
attempted to step down but O’Brien encouraged him to ‘fight MacBride.’ 37 An
interesting subplot to the by election was the fact that neither candidate actually took
31
reports’, January 1900.
32
Anthony J Jordan, Boer War To The Easter Rising: The Writings of John MacBride (Westport:
Westport Books, 2006), p.68.
33
Ibid, p.69.
34
The United Irishman, 20 January 1900.
35
The United Irishman, 17 February 1900.
36
McCracken, Forgotten Protest, p.60.
37
The United Irishman, 10 March 1900.
88
DIVIDED LOYALTIES
part in the campaign. MacBride was in South Africa and O’Donnell was in prison on a
coercion charge. As the candidate’s personalities were removed the contest was a
party one and a test of how strong support for the Transvaal Committee actually was.
On 28 February 1900 the results were announced and despite the campaigning of
veteran Fenians, John O’Leary and John Daly, MacBride finished nearly two thousand
votes behind O’Donnell, 2,401 to 427. 38 The United Irishman claimed
‘misrepresentation succeeds.’ and they may have had a point. 39 Although O’Donnell’s
victory seems like a landslide the turnout was little over 25 percent.40
As the ideological struggle between Nationalists continued, an unlikely opportunity
for unity arose when Queen Victoria began to take an interest in the Irish regiments.
On 20 February 1900 Victoria held an interview with Bugler Dunn. This was followed
by a telegram from the Queen to General Buller expressing her concern in relation
to the losses suffered by the Irish regiments. 41 On 8 March 1900 it was then
announced that Queen Victoria would visit Ireland at the beginning of April. This
news was followed by an order issued by the Queen, allowing Irish regiments to
wear a sprig of shamrock on their headdress on St. Patrick’s Day. Whether these
moves were sincere or a cynical move designed to garner more recruits has been
much debated.42 Either way it prompted a more extreme response from John Dillon.
Addressing a crowd in Thule’s on St. Patrick’s Day, Dillon stated,
We are invited to be grateful because the Monarch of another
race has sought to dip that emblem of our people in the blood
that has been shed at the Tugela, and at other battle fields in
South Africa, and to dye the green shamrock red in the rivers of
Irish Blood which have been shed… We are asked to wear the
shamrock to glorify the slaughter of Irish soldiers in an unjust
war, in which they were put at the forefront of battle.43
The shamrock concession was quickly followed by Queen sanctioning a regiment of
Irish Guards. A move which the military believed ‘can hardly fail to have a beneficial
38
40
McCracken, Forgotten Protest, p.60.
41
The Freemans Journal, 1 March 1900.
42
See, Donal P McCracken, Forgotten Protest: Ireland and The Boer War (Belfast: Ulster Historical
Foundation, 2003), pp. 66-71, James H Murphy, Abject Loyalty: Nationalism and Monarchy During the Reign of
Queen Victoria (Washington DC: The Catholic University Press of America, 2001), pp. 275-289, Keith
Jeffery, An Irish Empire?: Aspects of Ireland and The British Empire (Manchester: Manchester University Press,
1996), pp. 96-97, Keith Jeffry, ‘The Irish Soldier in the Boer War’ in John Gooch (Ed,) The Boer War:
Direction Experience and Image (New York: Routledge, 2013), pp. 148-151, Maud Gonne MacBride, A
servant of the Queen (Buckinghamshire: Colin Smythe Limited, 1994), pp. 266-278,
43
39
www.bjmh.org.uk
89
effect upon recruiting in Ireland.’ 44 Dillon was equally as sceptical of this move,
declaring at the same meeting,
[the Queen] thinks that by coming to Ireland she will raise a
regiment of Irish Guards and get fine tall Tipperary men to fight the
battles of her Empire at a shilling a day in South Africa... they want
the Irish to fight their battles, but they did not think of that when
they allowed the homesteads and fields of Ireland to be stripped of
their population.45
Typically Maud Gonne went further, writing, ‘Taking the Shamrock in her withered
hand, she dares ask Ireland for soldiers – for soldiers to protect the exterminators of
their race!’ 46 Both sets of Nationalists were attempting to identify the Queen’s
intervention with the recruiting campaign within a more extreme context. However,
any chance of Nationalists coming together to oppose the Royal visit were quickly
dashed when John Redmond told Parliament that the Irish people ‘will treat with
respect the visit which the venerable sovereign proposes to make’ he added, ‘no
attempt will be made to give that visit a party significance.’47 Although Redmond’s
sentiment may have been felt in London, in Dublin the Irish Transvaal Committee
threatened Redmond to ‘come to Dublin and repeat in public the statement you
made tonight in the name of the Irish people.’48
While Nationalists continued to turn on each other, Queen Victoria’s visit passed off
successfully. Mary Kenny wrote that ‘the plain people of Ireland turned out in their
hundreds of thousands to give Queen Victoria the warmest welcome she had ever
had in Ireland.’49 The authorities did not have to wait long to feel the effects of the
Queen’s visit. In its aftermath the RIC reported that ‘pro Boer sentiment received a
severe blow from the loyal enthusiasm evoked by the Queen’s visit.’50 It was not just
the Royal visit that was turning the tide on Nationalists. A series of British victories in
South Africa also was said to have ‘dejected and disheartened’ many Nationalists.51
Sentiment in Kildare was said to have undergone a ‘complete change in local feeling
about the war and which is probably due to the fact that many local men are serving
44
Army and Militia. Annual Report of the Inspector General of Recruiting for the year 1900, p.8, 1901
[Cd. 519].
45
Ibid.
The United Irishman, 7 Apri1900.
47
HC Deb 08 March 1900 vol 80 cc402.
48
49
Mary Kenny, Crown and Shamrock: Love and Hate between Ireland and the British Monarchy
(Dublin, New Island, 2009), p.63.
50
reports’, April 1900.
51
Ibid., CO 904/70/414, April 1900.
46
90
DIVIDED LOYALTIES
in the Royal Dublin Fusiliers.’52 However the campaign against recruiting was to get a
shot in the arm later that week when the first of Michael Davitt’s reports from South
Africa were published in the Nationalist press.
Although Davitt’s articles can only be described as propaganda, they added to the
admiration of the Boers in Ireland. Davitt interviewed many of the key generals and
ordinary Boer soldiers and described in detail how they won great victories over the
British forces. Michael Davitt also portrayed the Irish fighting with the Boers in an
honourable light. Davitt noted that the Irish Transvaal Brigades; ‘did not fight for pay,
had not yet surrendered and they did not attack civilians or wounded British
soldiers.’53 Conversely Redmond continued to highlight the bravery of Irish soldiers
and admitted ‘feeling pride at the record and heroism of Irish lads.’ 54 It is little
surprise then that the authorities believed that ‘there does not exist at present any
one leading Irish Nationalist who has the general confidence of the Irish people.’55
The view taken by moderate Nationalists was a pragmatic one. As many of the Irish
Party’s supporters were in some way connected with the Army, the Parliamentarians
did not criticise it in the same manner as advanced Nationalists, but they did continue
to campaign against recruiting. Although Michael Davitt was a member of the Irish
Party at the beginning of the war, he returned to his Fenian roots as it progressed.
He was critical of the stance taken by many Parliamentarians claiming ‘enlisting in the
British Army is a burning disgrace to Ireland’ adding, ‘Some Nationalists have praised
these Irish soldiers under Roberts for bravery. Where has the bravery been
exhibited? They may have fought better than the English Tommies [but] they could
easily do that.’ Davitt also lamented the fact that ‘there are more Catholics from
Cork, Tipperary, and Limerick in the British Army today than there are men from
the whole of Protestant Ireland.’56 However the result of the general election of 1900
endorsed the stance of the Irish Parliamentary Party. The Irish Party dominated the
polls winning seventy seven seats. A further five Independent Nationalists who were
estranged from the party were also elected.
Undaunted the Transvaal Committee continued their campaign. In February 1900
Henry McAteer, secretary of the Transvaal Committee, conducted a ‘extended tour
through the southern counties with the expressed object of stopping recruiting and
52
TNA, CO 904/600, ’Inspector General's and County Inspectors' monthly confidential reports’,
June 1900.
53
The Freemans Journal, 6 July 1900.
55
reports’, June 1900.
56
The Freemans Journal, 4 September 1900.
54
www.bjmh.org.uk
91
Militia volunteering.’ 57 In Cork he distributed ‘leaflets denouncing the war and
warning members of the militia not to be entrapped into Foreign Service.’ He also
gave his card to a few young men and urged them to join the Boer ranks.58 However,
before moving onto Waterford, McAteer ‘drank freely and went so far as to tell a
Staff Sergeant all about his mission.’ As a result the RIC surmised ‘no one appears to
have paid any attention to him.’59 In Clare recruiting was said to be ‘about normal
and recruits are generally much better than average.’60 Indeed the RIC reported that
although many people in Ennis ‘were very jubilant in the hope that England would be
brought down,’ they also observed that many were ‘beginning to see that the British
cannot be beaten.’61 The Police also remarked on the fact that as many people had
relatives in the Army ‘it militated considerably against the pro Boer feeling.’62 A
similar attitude was found in Cork. After McAteer was caught distributing antienlistment leaflets it was noted that ‘public expressions of pro Boer feeling have
disappeared for some time past, but all the same there can be little doubt that the
great proportion of the people wish the Boers success. Their sympathy, however, is
a passing sentiment.’63
In March, after the Duke of Connaught visited the city, the authorities were so
encouraged by the decline of pro Boer sentiment that they wrote ‘the cognomen of
Rebel Cork no longer applies to the city.’64 After another member of the Transvaal
committee was found handing out leaflets in Naas, depot of the Dublin Fusiliers, the
Police found ‘the general feeling amongst the people in the county is not now so proBoer as it was a few months ago, probably because the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, which
have suffered so severely in the war and have so often distinguished themselves, are
largely connected in the county.’65 Even in Limerick, where anti-military sentiment
was felt more than elsewhere, the RIC noted ‘the collapse of the Boer War had a
very desirable effect on the disaffected, who were hoping for a British disaster, had
such taken place I am pretty sure Limerick city and county would have [seen]
trouble.’66 Indeed the men of the Limerick County Militia were given a hugely popular
send off on 11 May 1900.67
57
reports’, February 1900.
58
Ibid., CO 904/70/31, February 1900.
59
Ibid.
60
Ibid., CO 904/70/153, March 1900.
61
Ibid., CO 904/70/24, February 1900.
62
Ibid.
63
Ibid., CO 904/70/30, February1900.
64
Ibid., CO 904/70/140, March 1900.
65
66
67
The Freemans Journal, 12 May1900.
92
DIVIDED LOYALTIES
The string of British victories won throughout 1900 also took much of the
momentum out of the Nationalist campaigns. Pretoria had fallen on 3 May, on 12 May
Kroonstad was occupied, on 31 May Roberts captured Johannesburg and on 21 July
Komatipoort fell cutting the Boers off, which forced President Kruger to seek asylum
in Portuguese East Africa. However, as the war entered its final stage, the tactics
employed by the British in South Africa somewhat rejuvenated the anti-recruiting
campaign. As the Boers turned to guerrilla tactics, the British reacted by
implementing a scorched earth policy and opening concentration camps. By
December reports of British atrocities were becoming more numerous. At the
national convention in December John Dillon claimed,
the war has entered a new stage and the farms are burned, women
and children turned adrift on the veldt without clothing and without
food, and famine as an auxiliary applied to the women and children
to compel their mankind to yield… Wherever your troops move
not only are houses burned down or blown up with dynamite, but
defenceless women and children are ejected, robbed of all food and
cover, and all this without any just cause existing for such
proceedings.68
During January 1901 Dillon then stated that the Queen ‘came to this country to
glorify the acts of the unhappy Irish soldiers who were fighting upon the wrong
side…We condemn and hate this war as the most unjust and cruel that has ever been
waged upon a Christian people.’ 69 However as a British victory was now almost
certain the RIC in Longford concluded that ‘pro Boer sentiment amongst the artisan
and peasant class does not appear as strong as it was’70 The half-hearted opposition of
Nationalists toward returning Irish soldiers seemed to encapsulate the findings of the
RIC. While the Dublin Yeomanry were met by citizens mocking them with white flags
upon their return, there was little else.71 In July 1900 the North Cork Militia returned
to Cork where they were presented medals by the Duke of Connaught. Despite the
storm stirred up by the deployment of the North Corks in South Africa the
ceremony passed off without controversy.72 Indeed, after men of the Royal Artillery
were involved in a drunken brawl with locals in Kilkenny the Police chief in the town
claimed that recruiting had been ‘unusually brisk’ throughout December.73 In February
68
The Freemans Journal, 12 December 1900.
The Freemans Journal, 11 Janaury 1901.
70
reports’, March 1901.
71
The Freemans Journal, 11 June 1901.
72
reports’, July 1901.
73
reports’, December 1901.
69
www.bjmh.org.uk
93
1902, Chamberlain recorded, ‘recruiting has been fairly active during the month
particularly in the counties Waterford, Kilkenny and Clare; no doubt the continuance
of the war affects it considerably.’74
There was to be one last sting in the tail when Boer forces ambushed and captured
Lord Methuen and over half of his column at the Battle of Tweebosch on 7 March
1902. In Ireland news of the Boer victory was celebrated and in some places where
‘bands turned out and paraded the streets after the disaster to the British Forces.’
Although only ‘corner boys and low rowdies’ were observed to have taken part in
the celebrations. Chamberlain worried that ‘the recent disaster to Lord Methuen’s
force may have the effect of stirring up Pro-Boer feeling, which has been somewhat
on the wane for some months past.’75 However it was to be the last major action of
the conflict as the Boers formally surrendered on 31 May 1902.
The Boer War had offered advanced and Parliamentary Nationalists the opportunity
to unite behind a common cause for the first time since the fall of Parnell. Although
both sides opposed the war and recruitment, it was the position of the Irish soldier
within the Nationalist narrative that was disputed. While the army as an institution
may have been marginalised, the Irish soldier was not; in fact he was respected for his
accomplishments. Whereas advanced Nationalists refused to acknowledge this,
constitutional Nationalists believed it was possible for a man to wear the British
uniform and not deny his own nationality. William Redmond alluded to this telling
Parliament,
Who are these Irish soldiers who comprise the Connaught
Rangers, the Dublin Fusiliers, and the rest of the Irish regiments?
They come mostly from the South of Ireland; they are Catholics
by religion, and in politics they are Nationalists and Home Rulers
like we are. I have myself heard these gallant and brave men
cheering at Irish meetings and demonstrations, and cheering
Members sitting upon these benches in the towns which they
have visited. You must not imagine because these men have
entered your Army that they are not in sympathy with us,
because they are, and we have the sympathy also of the classes
in Ireland who supply these men.76
74
TNA, CO 904/74, ’Inspector General's and County Inspectors' monthly confidential reports’,
February 1902.
75
reports’, March 1902.
76
94
DIVIDED LOYALTIES
Although the debate surrounding the recognition of Irish soldiers seemed minor
within the wider Nationalist context, it contributed to Nationalists being unable to
unite as they had under the leadership of Parnell. Therefore, once the Boer War
came to a close, John Redmond had no influence over advanced Nationalists who
were allowed to forge their own future. In turn many prominent members of the
Irish Transvaal Committee, such as James Connolly and Arthur Griffith, would go on
to become leading republican figures. However the effect of this would only be felt in
the long term. In the short term, opposition to military recruitment became a theme
within Nationalist politics. It would become one of the many battle grounds over
which advanced and constitutional Nationalists would compete. The patterns set by
the competing ideologies during the Boer conflict would continue until the outbreak
of the First World War. In fact, in 1907, the Irish Parliamentary Party decided that
their ‘influence should and must be used against enlistment.’77 They had also decided
to ‘inculcate an attitude of aloofness from the Army because it was the Army which
held Ireland by force. Enlistment had been discouraged, on the principle that from a
military point of view Ireland was regarded as a conquered country.’78
As a result the British Military never truly trusted Irish Nationalists. During 1905
General Lord Grenfell told the Committee of Imperial Defence,
on the surface Ireland appears to be contented, but there is still
strong racial antagonism in the country to the British connection, a
feeling that might, under certain conditions, prove a source of
weakness to the British Empire.’ Adding that the ‘germ of
insurrection has never fully been eradicated in Ireland.79
General Lyttelton contended that it would not matter whether an invading force was
French or German as ‘the Irish would be just as likely to join one as the other.’80 In
May 1912 Lyttelton wrote,
the political situation in Ireland might be such that it would be most
undesirable to completely denude many parts of the country of all
troops even for a few days, for a raiding force successful in landing
at that critical period the temper of the civil population in any part
of Ireland might be such that an extremely dangerous situation
might arise… political possibilities in Ireland are of such character
77
Stephen, Gwynn, John Redmond’s Last Years (New York: Longman’s Green and Co., 1919),
p.141.
78
79
80
Ibid., pp.140-141.
TNA, CAB 38/10/74, ‘The Defence of Ireland‘.
Ibid.
www.bjmh.org.uk
95
that I consider it would be unwise to count on the Constabulary
being available for defence purposes against invasion.81
The Boer War proved to be a catalyst in the evolution of Irish Nationalism. It gave
advanced Nationalists a platform from which to express their views, which had
hitherto been concealed by the largely moderate Parliamentary Party. Extremists
would use it to create Sinn Féin in 1905 and press the anti-recruiting campaign.
During 1905 Special Branch found that many of the anti-recruiting leaflets that were
being distributed had been printed during the Boer War when Maud Gonne and the
Transvaal Committee had 40,000 posters printed.82 Although the authorities in 1912
believed that Sinn Féin, the I.R.B. and other extremists had ‘very little effect;’83 with
the Great War only two years away, it is the continuation of the counter recruiting
campaign and not its influence that is important. Indeed Sinn Féin’s opposition to
recruiting assisted them defeat the Irish Parliamentary Party in the 1918 general
election.
81
TNA, WO 32/71/10, ‘EMPLOYMENT OF MILITARY FORCES: Mobilization and
Demobilization (Code 53(E)): Mobilisation of Territorial Force: Allotment of territorials to local force in
Ireland to release regular troops‘, 3 May 1912.
82
TNA, CO 904/11/84, ‘Précis of information and reports relating to the Dublin Metropolitan
Police (DMP) District‘, June 1905.
83
TNA, CO 904/89/206, ‘Inspector General's and County Inspectors' monthly confidential
reports‘, February 1913.
96
REVIEWS
Reviews
Max Hastings. Catastrophe: Europe goes to War 1914.
London: William Collins, 2013. Notes. Bibliography.
Index. 628pp. ISBN 978-0007519743 (Hardback). Price
£13.25.
In December 1914, Charles à Court Repington wrote in The Times:
‘It transcends all limits of thought, imagination and reason. We
little creeping creatures cannot see more than a fraction of it.
Even if we climb painfully to the top of the highest ladder of
thought we are still pigmies, and the war still towers high above us.
We see the raging torrents at our feet, but the high summits are
veiled in impenetrable mist…. We look, gasp, wonder and are
dumb. We do not know. Nobody knows. This war, for once, is
bigger than anybody. No one dominates it. No one even
understands it. Nobody can’.
He was describing the Great War, but these words apply equally well to the military
historical phenomenon that is Sir Max Hastings. He is an unstoppable force of nature,
beyond ‘all limits of thought, imagination and reason.’ Reviewing one of his books for
this journal is akin to criticising a tsunami: quite beyond the point. Having laid bare
the mysteries of the Second World War, most recently with titles such as Nemesis,
Armageddon and All Hell Let Loose, Hastings has now turned his fertile pen to the First.
Catastrophe tells the story of the coming of the Great War and of the campaigns
which filled the last five months of 1914. It is a dramatic story, and Hastings tells it
clearly enough. Members of the British Commission for Military History will, I
suspect, learn little new from this book, but frankly it is not aimed at us. This is a
work of popular history which seeks – and has received ample – validation primarily
in the bestseller lists.
This book reminds me forcibly of the movie The Longest Day. It tells a dramatic but
well-known story. It has a huge cast of characters and picks out telling and eyecatching vignettes. I enjoyed, for instance, his lively description of the fall of Liège (pp.
160-5). It also recycles more than a few clichés and, in such a long production,
cannot avoid the odd longueur. Inevitably, there are occasional inaccuracies.
Although Hastings sought advice from academic historians who are well up to speed
with the very latest research, their counsel does not always appear to be reflected in
the finished product.
www.bjmh.org.uk
97
Hastings acknowledges the impact the Guns of August had on him over 50 years ago,
and it does not seem fanciful to suppose that he hoped to write an updated and
expanded version of Barbara Tuchman’s work. Where she stopped on the Marne,
Hastings carries the story through to Christmas 1914. He incorporates much more
material on events in Serbia and Russia than she did. Commendable as this is in
historical terms, although overall the narrative is competently told, Hastings does not
quite match Tuchman for brio.
Hasting’s passion in places sucks the reader in, for example when he argues that the
war was Germany’s fault. Sometimes, though, like a sultan in his seraglio, he
occasionally appears to have spread his attentions somewhat thin. Nonetheless, he
seems to have managed to persuade much of his established fan base, until now
content with their 1939-45 addiction, to taste something new with the First World
War. Whether Catastrophe will prove the gateway drug which leads them back to
their book-dealers for more refined product, remains to be seen. If it does, Hastings
will have done us all a very great favour. I, for one, went out and bought a second
copy of Catastrophe for a friend, who I believe enjoyed it.
DR JONATHAN BOFF
University of Birmingham
Thomas Scotland and Steven Heys. Wars, Pestilence and
the Surgeon’s Blade: The Evolution of British Military
Medicine and Surgery During the Nineteenth Century.
Solihull, England: Helion & Company, 2013. Index. Maps.
Figures. Tables. Appendices. Endnotes. Cloth. xx + 407pp.
ISBN 978-1909384095 (Hardback). Price £34.95.
Wars, Pestilence and the Surgeon’s Blade charts the evolution of the British Army
Medical Services from the Peninsular War to the beginning of the Great War. It is a
timely companion to the highly recommended book War Surgery 1914-18 (Solihull,
England: Helion & Company, 2012) co-edited by Scotland and Heys, after many visits
to the Great War battlefields of France and Flanders. That was their first joint
publication on British military history. This is their second.
At the centenary of the outbreak of the Great War, our wish to connect with the
depressing horrors of that conflict is evidenced by public interest in current TV
dramas such as BBC1’s The Crimson Field. Set in a tented, British Army base hospital
98
REVIEWS
near the sea in northern France, the drama shows how doctors and nurses in the
First World War shaped the way that war injuries are treated today.
In The Crimson Field one surgeon-captain is a dedicated Scotsman with a passion for
medicine. He uses, apparently, the novel Thomas Splint, to keep the fractured ends
of a femur (thigh bone) together. He documents his interesting cases, and attempts
to publish his article on femoral trauma in the Journal of the Royal College of Surgeons.
This echoes the way the real life Peninsular War surgeon, Irishman John Hennen
worked to have his insightful descriptions published (p. 96).
Both authors trained in surgery at Aberdeen to become specialist Consultant
Surgeons. Wars, Pestilence and the Surgeon’s Blade is their fascinating account of British
Army medical and surgical practice during the 19th century from the perspectives of
the individual surgeons and physicians administering it. The authors have researched
meticulously – and well referenced in endnotes - surgeons’ journals, and original
medical publications, such as Principles of Military Surgery (London: John Wilson, 1829)
by Hennen as Deputy Inspector of Hospitals. But Scotland and Heys rate as most
significant the contribution of Sir James McGrigor. McGrigor, another Aberdeen
scholar, dubbed The Father of British Military Medicine, was appointed Director
General of Army Medical Services in 1815, at the age of 44, less than a week before
the Battle of Waterloo! He was a consummate administrator, and statistician.
The book’s backbone is a consideration of three major conflicts: The Peninsular War
(1808-1814) plus the Battle of Waterloo (Sunday, 18 June 1815) the bloodiest battle
of the Napoleonic Wars which presented a formidable medical task; the Crimean
War (1853-1856) and the Second Boer War (1899-1902). The authors also review
minor, often colonial, wars fought by the British Empire during the intervening years.
Three major foreign wars, to which Britain sent observers, are also considered: The
American Civil War (1861-1865), the Franco-Prussian War (1870-1871) and the
Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905).
In the chaos of wars throughout the 19th century disease caused more deaths in the
British Army than enemy action. McGrigor’s measures to improve the health of
Wellington’s forces were forgotten by the time of the Crimean War. Urgent
investigation by the 1857 Sanitary Commission improved hospital hygiene at Scutari,
and for later. The establishment of the Army Medical College in 1860 made British
military medicine and surgery scientific. But a vaccine against typhoid fever – available
by the time of the Boer War – was not used then with disastrous results. The Royal
Army Medical Corps (RAMC) incorporated in 1898 encouraged men to be
inoculated at the start of the Great War in 1914.
www.bjmh.org.uk
99
This comprehensive work may be compared with David McLean’s Surgeons of the
Fleet: The Royal Navy and its Medics from Trafalgar to Jutland (London: I.B. Tauris, 2010)
tracing the development of Naval medicine over a similar period. However, Wars,
Pestilence and the Surgeon’s Blade is the more rigorous study of war surgery. For
example, the authors’ analysis of the development of military anaesthesia in the 19th
century (Chapter 9) is detailed and intriguing.
In his Foreword, Colonel (Rtd.) Michael Stewart RAMC suggests that Wars, Pestilence
and the Surgeon’s Blade is required reading for every member of the Army Medical
Services (xiv-xv). I too enjoyed the engaging style; learnt much, and recommend this
important book to the general reader interested in British military history.
JANE BOWDEN-DAN
James Holland (ed.), An Englishman at War. The Wartime
Diaries of Stanley Christopherson, DSO, MC, TD. 1939-1945.
London: Bantam Press, 2014. 551 pp. ISBN 9780593068373 (Hardback). Price £25.00.
I cannot remember when I have so enjoyed reading a diary, possibly Chips Channon,
or maybe Harold Nicholson, and certainly not a military one, not even Alan Brook’s.
Here is the wartime story of a young officer who starts the war in the Sherwood
Rangers Yeomanry as part of 1st Cavalry Division, on horseback, loses his horse to
mechanisation, but starts as a gunner in the siege of Tobruk, and eventually
commands a sabre squadron at Alamein and through to Tunis. In Normandy he takes
command after two commanding officers are killed, and remains in command through
to VE Day.
Stanley Christopherson was educated at Winchester, which provides one of the
leitmotifs that run through the book. He is forever meeting Old Wykehamists! One
particular member of the BCMH will not be surprised to hear that my grandfather
was his housemaster at Winchester. From there he went to South Africa, where the
family had business interests and then returned to London as a stockbroker, joining
the Inns of Court Yeomanry in 1936. He thus started the war as a Lance Corporal,
being swiftly commissioned into the Sherwood Rangers Yeomanry, who must be one
of the most written about regiments in the war. Aside from these diaries there is
Hermione Ranfurly’s To War With Whitaker (1994), Miles Hildyard’s It’s Bliss Here and
Stuart Hills’ By Tank To Normandy, (2002). There is also Keith Douglas’ From Alamein
100
REVIEWS
to Zem Zem, published posthumously in 1946. So we already know quite a lot about
the regiment.
What the diaries describe is how a collection of amateur weekend soldiers became
professional soldiers. There weren’t just professional, but were very good
professionals. It has always been recognised that the German Army was very good
tactically; but here is a ringing endorsement of the British Army’s search for tactical
success. In North Africa the regiment took their time to adapt to their new role as a
tank regiment, after spending a long time as coastal gunners at Tobruk. They were in
danger of being split up and used as reinforcements and it is entirely due to their
commanding officer, Flash Kellett, that they survived as a regiment, being finally
mechanised in the spring of 1942, taking part at Alamein and then at Zem Zem and
Medinine, before the final battles in Tunis at Enfidaville. During this period they were
often learning their trade, usually the hard way. Christopherson commanded a
squadron of Crusader tanks throughout this period and learned how to cooperate
with infantry, particularly the New Zealanders, and artillery. There was still an
innocence about the war, fought in the desert, with few civilians and an easy to
identify enemy.
All of that changed with the move of the Sherwood Rangers back to England in
December 1943. They remained part of 8th Armoured Brigade, an independent
brigade. As such they worked very closely with their infantry regiment, 12th KRRC,
and their gunner regiment, the Essex Yeomanry. They supported every Infantry
Division in 2nd Army, and became experts in helping the infantry forward. Indeed
such was their expertise that reading the diaries is rather like listening to the debates
of the 1970s about the structure of Armoured Division and Brigades all over again.
Whenever infantry divisions attacked they needed armoured support and usually it
seems it was 8th Armoured Brigade who was chosen. This was as opposed to the
Armoured Divisions, such as Guards Armoured or 7th Armoured, who were used for
the offensive operations such as Epson or Goodwood. Throughout the Normandy
campaign Christopherson was remarkably well informed as to what was going on,
commenting on, for example on 7th Armoured’s difficulties at Villers Bocage. He took
over command on 15th June after the death of two other COs. In his first operation
as CO, Operation Epsom, SRY knocked out 13 enemy tanks, nearly as many as 7th
Armoured Division had lost at Villers Bocage, but this success is rarely commented
on, compared to the mythologised episode of Wittmann’s attack at Villers Bocage.
The key effect of Epsom, brought out by Christopherson, was that there was now
little likelihood of a future significant German counter offensive as their armour had
been seriously written down. However, the cost to the British was appalling. In an
armoured regiment there were about 700 men, with about 220 in the sabre
squadrons in 50 tanks. Within 6 weeks of landing on D Day, the SRY had lost 80% of
their tank commanders. While they could collect new tanks from the repair and
www.bjmh.org.uk
101
resupply depots, new trained commanders were a different matter. In the August
fighting the SRY suffered further casualties but inflicted heavy losses on the Germans,
including 3 Panthers, 1 Tiger and a JagdTiger, a massive beast of 72 tons, but their
casualties meant that since D Day they had now suffered 100% of their tank
commanders. Overall, this is amongst the best accounts of the Normandy campaign
from the tactical level.
8th Armoured Brigade was now part of XXX Corps and in the rapid advance from
Normandy to Belgium had to alter their tactics. This time tanks led, with both 12th
KRRC and the Essex Yeomanry gunners divided between the 3 armoured regiments,
so forming 3 regimental groups and the Brigade acting for much of the time as flank
guard for Guards Armoured. Again, the much vaunted German Kampfgruppe is often
mentioned. However, here is the British Army doing exactly the same, and very
successfully, but it is rarely commented upon.
During Operation Market Garden Christopherson and SRY supporting the US 82nd
Airborne Division and were the first British troops to enter German territory. They
also supported 43rd Division, whose commander, Thomas, Christopherson usually
referred to as “Von Thoma”, and then 52nd Division in the clearing of the ground
west of the Rhine. This was nasty, cold and muddy fighting and the drain on
manpower was significant. Typically Christopherson makes no mention of being
awarded the American Silver Star for his performance in cooperating with the
American Army throughout November. During the crossing of the Rhine 8th
Armoured Brigade as usual were used to break through the German defences, but
then Guards Armoured Division had the more appealing, and easy, job of swanning
through and exploiting their success. They had become victims of their own success.
They advanced as far as Bremerhaven before the Germans surrendered.
The overriding impression throughout this account of the NW Europe campaign is of
the growing professionalism of the SRY (and by implication, the whole of the British
Army). But the cost was high. Christopherson spends much time accounting for the
tank commanders, and squadron officers who are lost, so that by the end of the war
“the only shoulders he has to cry on are the doctor’s and the padre’s” both of whom
were clearly outstanding men, Hylda Young and Leslie Skinner. The SRY gained more
battle honours between 1939 and 1945 (30) than any other single unit in the British
Army; 16 of them were under Christopherson. They supported every British infantry
division in NW Europe as well as 3 US divisions, and were the “fire brigade” always
asked for and usually sent. This is a wonderful volume, and will, I suspect, become a
standard text for those studying the NW Europe campaign.
ROBIN BRODHURST
102
REVIEWS
Alan Tritton. When the Tiger Fought the Thistle. The
Tragedy of Colonel William Baillie of the Madras Army.
London: the Radcliffe Press, 2013. Appendices. Index. xx
+ 314 pp. ISBN 978-1780764375 (Hardback). Price £25.00.
Colonel William Baillie made a brief, dramatic appearance in the annals of British
India’s history. His brigade marched to rendezvous with the commander-in-chief of
the Madras army as Sir Hector Munro prepared to resist Haidar Ali of Mysore’s
advance in September 1780. Baillie’s force could not break through the Mysorean
lines. Munro, instead of hastening to join Baillie, sent a detachment of 1000 troops
under Colonel Fletcher to strengthen Baillie near Pollilur. There Baillie was crushed
on 10 September. Of his 86 officers, 36 (including Fletcher) were killed or died of
wounds and 34 were wounded. Eventually, Munro bestirred himself and marched to
within four miles of the battle when Baillie had to yield to overwhelming odds.
Munro’s conduct and competence were excoriated in one of the more florid
passages of John Fortescue’s mammoth history of the British army.
Alan Tritton, who has done distinguished work over a long period on the
preservation of British memorials in India, reviews Baillie’s career in the broad
context of the British penetration of eighteenth-century Madras. Reader of military
history will inevitably focus on the battle of Pollilur. Tritton effectively recounts
Baillie’s wide-ranging operational movements in the ten months up to the battle,
describes the battle itself, and reviews, with extensive quotations, contemporary
accounts of the battle (pp. 218-70). This useful work stresses that Fletcher, an
ambitious and self-confident officer, probably persuaded Munro to limit the
reinforcements sent to Bailie so that he might enhance his own role and glory in
what promised, in his eyes, to be a dazzling victory against a numerically superior
enemy. This is a plausible assessment of the dynamics of command, though it is not
intended to exonerate Munro from failing to concentrate at a decisive point.
Baillie’s role in one of the largest British defeats in India was compounded by his
treatment as a prisoner of war. The British captives suffered grievously from
privations, indignities and humiliations. Denied medical attention, Baillie died in prison
at Seringapatam in November 1782. Tritton, unfortunately, does not discuss the ways
in which Baillie’s fate was subsequently described or how it shaped late eighteenthcentury and Victorian views of Haidar Ali and his son Tipu Sultan.
The bulk of Tritton’s book interweaves an account of Baillie’s life with a general
history of British expansionism in Madras. For long stretches, the general history
takes over. Tritton’s writing is clear, lively, and engaging; the author seems to have
www.bjmh.org.uk
103
enjoyed exploring the thorny interactions between frequently rapacious and corrupt
East India Company officials and local rulers. But military operations and organization,
apart from Pollilur, receive limited attention. Much of the material would interest
general readers seeking an introduction to British official activities in Madras from
the 1740s to the 1780s.
The original element is based on Baillie family papers. Unfortunately, however, the
book has no footnotes, so that the precise location of the extensive quotations from
these letters, and from published contemporary works, is elusive. Baillie did not
write prolifically; his first letter to his mother came when his father died, after he had
been in India for twelve years. Nor did he provide any insight into India or its people.
The new material is mostly about his career concerns and the distant running of the
family’s lands, which he inherited on his father’s death in 1771. Baillie’s own letters
illustrate a familiar tension. The expatriate reluctantly stayed abroad – he never
returned to Britain after arriving in India in 1760 – in order to gain financial security
before the expected return home. Yet he created a parallel life, which included
children by an Indian companion, unknown to his family in Scotland. One daughter
survived, was sent in 1775 to England, never saw her father again, and yet returned
to India, where she died in 1824, married to a British surgeon. Indeed one sub-theme
is the emergence of a family diaspora, with other family members following Baillie to
India.
PROFESSOR BRUCE COLLINS
Sheffield Hallam University
Anne Applebaum. Iron Curtain. The Crushing of Eastern
Europe. London: Penguin, 2012. Maps, illustrations, table
of contents, footnotes, bibliography, appendices; xxxix,
498 pp. ISBN 978-0713998689. Price £8.99.
Anne Applebaum’s Iron Curtain looks like a big book, in the style of her deservedly
acclaimed 2004 offering, Gulag. Thick and imposing, its jacket is covered in lavish
praise from noted authors, and the facts that it has been chosen sixteen times as a
“book of the year” and was “the top non-fiction pick of 2012”. As a work of history
though, Iron Curtain simply does not measure up to Gulag, to the dust-cover
hyperbole, or even to what it claims to be.
First, it is not, as the subtitle posits, about “the crushing of eastern Europe”. Though
Applebaum is at pains to define eastern Europe, she focuses on what she calls
“Central Europe”: Poland, Hungary, and East Germany (xxxv). How Czechoslovakia
104
REVIEWS
did not qualify is anyone’s guess. Second, while Applebaum claims to have chosen
those three states because they were so different, the book demonstrates how their
experiences under Soviet domination were so similar. There’s little analysis of how
the different backgrounds or situations factored in—which they did. Further,
Applebaum is not much interested in the political process most people would
associate with “crushing eastern Europe”; as she notes, this story has already been
well told, in English and in other languages (xxxvii). Her project is rather an
investigation of “totalitarianism” as it was lived in these three states. Those stories
have been told as well, separately, and often better than they are here. In the end,
despite Applebaum’s own archival research and that of her associates in Hungary and
Germany, there isn’t a great deal new in factual or interpretive terms—as a twentyone-page “select bibliography” and the footnotes attest.
Still, Iron Curtain is a book worth reading, particularly for those new to the subject.
Applebaum writes well, and she has an eye for a good and telling anecdote. She has
conducted numerous interviews that add to the historical record, and scholars will
be grateful for the broadening of the Hungarian side especially. Rather than following
a chronological narrative, Applebaum breaks the book into themes (e.g., socialist
realism, ethnic cleansing, youth) that introduce concepts without being weighed
down by turgid scholarly caveats. This allows her to cover a much broader scope in
her investigation of “daily life” than the average historical monograph, although one
or two of the topics (e.g. radio) seem light and rather questionable as analytical
categories.
Analysis is not what Applebaum is after, however; it is the experience of what Sheila
Fitzpatrick has termed “everyday Stalinism” that she seeks, and here Applebaum
succeeds in spades; it’s thick description. Every chapter is replete with examples of
how the Soviets (and base collaborators) systematically eliminated independent
thought and action wherever they could. Every page shows how the Polish and
Hungarian people—and to a lesser degree, the East Germans—struggled against the
evils of Soviet-style totalitarianism. It is a compelling, if somewhat depressing story,
told in a clear and comprehensible fashion. There are times—very few—where
Applebaum over-simplifies or over-states her case, but it is hard to argue the realities.
The majority of people in eastern—not just central –Europe were crushed by the
Soviet system; they were faced with dilemmas of cooperation or flight; they were
coerced, beaten, jailed, and tortured; they were the subjects of a totalitarian
experiment. Even if it’s not new, it’s a story worth reading and worth remembering,
and Iron Curtain makes it more accessible.
TIMOTHY C. DOWLING
Virginia Military Institute
www.bjmh.org.uk
105
Timothy S. Wolters. Information at Sea: Shipboard
Command and Control in the U.S. Navy, From Mobile Bay
to Okinawa. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins
University Press, 2013. Notes. Index. 317pp. ISBN 9781421410265 (Hardback). Price £35.00.
The warship constitutes the fundamental building block of naval power and in the
machine age it represented the technologically most complex creation the nationstate could muster. Naval warfare might be technology-intensive, but men operate
ships and equipment and the quality of training and ability to successfully interact with
the machines under their charge are defining features of successful navies. The ability
of a warship to fulfil its role is very much dependent on having good situational
awareness and the capacity to communicate and coordinate with other units. The
improvements in speed, endurance and firepower at the beginning of the twentieth
century increased the complexity of naval engagements and the individual command
of warships. Despite considerable literature on naval technology, the way warships
operated and fought over time remains understudied.
Timothy Wolters examines the issue using the United States Navy (USN) between
1864 and 1945 as a case study and charting out the long-term evolution of what
would become the Combat Information Center (CIC), ‘an integrated human-machine
system’ (p. 5), or ‘brain’ of a warship during the Second World War. While the
conflict did see considerable innovation, the foundation of much of this was laid
decades earlier. Wolters’s work fits into a wider trend over the past decade to
understand the dynamics and determinants of innovation, but, rather than focusing
on a weapon system, his focus is on a process. Command and Control is often
discussed in theoretical or general terms, but this is a study about the practicalities,
devices and understanding of command at the platform level and what implications
this in turn had on naval operations.
The book is organised into five large, yet not overwhelming chapters, which follow a
chronological path covering individual developments as well as broader themes like
bureaucratic structures or civil-military interaction. The first two deal with
communications, before and after the invention of radio - a crucial development while chapter three deals with the complexity of fleet operations this brought about
during the Great War. Chapter four deals with the emergence of the threedimensional naval battle as air and subsurface threats needed addressing. While
improved communications enabled better coordination, they also represented a
vulnerability and potential for compromise. Thus the resultant problem of
communications security became an issue and is a feature of the analysis. The role of
106
REVIEWS
key individuals in the process receives the necessary attention. Radio directionfinding, active and passive underwater detection systems and the development of
radar all provided new sensory inputs for ships’ crews to deal with and raised the
question of how these different pictures might be superimposed.
In chapter five the transition to war and the integration of various systems into what
became the CIC is outlined. What Wolters shows is that rather than a linear
development it was the product of different experiences, which shaped the form and
functioning of the CIC. Early British wartime experience, the anti-submarine War in
the Atlantic and the anti-air and surface actions in the Pacific posed different
questions and influenced the final outcome. Better information gathering and
processing created more effective naval units and harnessed firepower more
efficiently. The only slight weakness of the book’s structure is a somewhat too
concise conclusion that might have said more on the evolution of naval command and
the implications technology had (and has) on it.
Both author and publisher have made this an appealing book. Illustrations of key
personalities and equipment not only bring the subject to life, but are all the more
helpful in understanding the core issues. The inclusion of generous notes and an
essay on sources further expanding on methodologies – amounting to nearly a third
of the volume – completes the analysis and allows readers to probe the subject
further in a organised manner. This book is a must for any serious student of naval
operations, platform design and in particular of the USN. Despite its specialised
subject matter it will be valuable to military historians in general, especially those
looking at the development and problems associated with command in the twentieth
century. This is not only a study in the transformation of naval power or innovation
in a military context, but it is also about the rise of machines in assisting human
decision-making more generally. Men remained at the heart of the warship’s
functioning, but were increasingly dependent on machines to understand the
environment in which they were operating and react appropriately.
DR MARCUS FAULKNER
Thomas Waldman. War, Clausewitz and the Trinity.
Farnham: Ashgate, 2013. Index. x + 203 pp. ISBN 9781409451396. Price £55.00.
For an idea which appears only once, fleetingly, on one page in a book that stretches
to over a thousand in the standard modern German edition, Clausewitz’s trinity has
generated an unusual amount of attention. Martin van Creveld devoted a whole book
www.bjmh.org.uk
107
to the claim that the trinity underscored the irrelevance of Clausewitz’s ‘On War’ to
modern warfare. Now Thomas Waldman has written a book to support the
counterclaim that the trinity remains ‘the central theoretical device for understanding
war’. Waldman usefully focuses on what he calls the primary level of the trinity: war
conceived as the interplay of reason (read by him as politics), chance and passion.
What many, including Van Creveld, tout as the trinity — the people, military and
government — he correctly sees as an ‘illustrative device’ which is of secondary
order importance and which should anyway not be too closely associated with the
modern state. As others (including myself) have argued this secondary trinity could
easily be applied to any form of political organisation. Waldman’s approach also leads
him to a more sophisticated understanding of the common notion that ‘war is a
continuation of policy by other means’. He approvingly quotes Antulio Echevarria,
who (again correctly in my view) wrote that ‘policy is shaped by the processes and
conditions within which it is developed, in a word by politics’ (p. 96).
By putting the trinity at the heart of Clausewitz’s theory of war, Waldman reads the
whole of ‘On War’ (which as said never mentions the trinity again) through the lens
of this conceptualisation of war, connecting idea after idea, quote after quote, with
each of the three elements that make up this entity. That is a useful and at times
illuminating exercise, illustrating the breadth of Clausewitz’s thinking and his concern
with the contextual factors shaping war. In so doing, Waldman joins the ranks of
those who seek to complete Clausewitz’s unfinished work by stretching the
lineaments sketched out in the final paragraphs of the only finished first chapter, to
encapsulate firmly the whole of ‘On War’.
This is an undertaking fraught with more hazard than the book under review
suggests. Take the word trinity. Clausewitz was never one to choose his terms
lightly. The word should immediately give away that, as in Catholicism, the concept
represents a fundamental credo. In case a reader overlooks that, the adjoining
adjective ‘wunderlich’ underlines that Clausewitz’s trinity also struggles with, and
goes beyond, reason. He clearly believed that his trinity was a strange, wondrous
object of astonishment. This was not so much because the elements comprising it
were strange bedfellows. The surprise was that he had had to develop the concept at
all. Reason was the solid foundation of his theory, but the rigours of reason had led
him to develop doubts about the applicability of his theory to reality, and especially
the claim theory gave rise to that all war must involve a mutual process of forceful
disarmament. The trinity, as Azar Gat argued persuasively more than twenty years
ago, was his late leap of faith towards a new and radical philosophical method to
reconcile the two. The author’s astonishment at his own conundrum should warn
the reader that tracing the lineaments of his new theory would not be
straightforward.
108
REVIEWS
Absent in Waldman’s book is a discussion of the tensions in Clausewitz’s thought and
his ability to express surprise, honest frustration and defiant dogmatism at his
recalcitrant object of study. Indeed, the reasons why Clausewitz saw fit to develop
the trinity so sudden and late in life are not explained. This may be partly due to
Waldman’s reliance on the Howard and Paret translation of Clausewitz, rather than
on the German text. The original language conveys with far greater immediacy the
philosophically rigorous yet emotionally laden and doubt-ridden quality of the
argument. Waldman, like Howard and Paret, views Clausewitz as an organic thinker
who refined his theory as he grew older. For Waldman everything can be reconciled
in the trinity. The result is an exposition that is perhaps too indeterminate. ‘None’ of
the trinity’s three tendencies, he writes, ‘represent forces which necessarily cause
escalation — they are a priori ambiguous in this respect. They all can lead to
extremes, but equally they may exert countervailing and limiting forces.’ (p. 163) Such
a reading may please those who prefer very broad and malleable theory, including
many military historians. Others may think that Waldman’s approach overly
contextualises war and makes ‘the thing in itself’ disappear from view. Given
Clausewitz’s passionate attachment to analysing war itself through the deployment of
very specific and high-handed theory and method, a disregard of these matters makes
the book’s interpretation suited to our times, but likely quite distant from the ‘real’
Clausewitz it purports to unveil.
DR JAN WILLEM HONIG
Peter Kendall. The Royal Engineers at Chatham 1750-2012.
English Heritage 2013 ISBN 978-1-84802-098-6.
(Hardcover). Price £50.00.
Timothy Crick. Ramparts of Empire: The Fortifications of
Sir William Jervois Royal Engineer, 1821-1897. Exeter: The
Exeter Press, University of Exeter, 2012 ISBN 9781905816040. (Hardcover). Price £60.00.
These two titles provide an excellent opportunity to reflect on the relationship
between the British Army and sea power. The first examines the long relationship
between the Royal Engineers and Chatham, the second the career of an outstanding
Engineer who spent his life securing the key positions of a maritime empire against
sea based threats.
www.bjmh.org.uk
109
When the Royal Navy began using Chatham on the River Medway as an anchorage
and refitting station in the 1550s it required fixed defences. At the same time
Chatham occupied a commanding position alongside the main road from Dover to
London, and controlled the last bridge over the Medway. The defences failed in 1667,
for although Upnor Castle held out, saving the dockyard, the Dutch were only driven
off after humiliating the Stuart kingdom by towing away the fleet flagship. Additional
forts were built to secure the upper reaches of Medway, and Sheerness Point. In
1708 plans were drawn up to fortify the dockyard, but nothing was done. Finally in
1744 defensive earthworks were built, the ‘Chatham Lines’. At this time Engineers
were employed by the Board of Ordnance, and linked to the Artillery, but the Corps
only achieved military rank in 1757, becoming Royal in 1787. It consisted entirely of
officers until that year, when artificers were added, renamed Royal Sappers and
Miners in 1813 to reflect their skills. In 1857 the other ranks finally became Royal
Engineers. These skilled men received higher rates of pay than other troops.
The wartime built lines were earthworks with some brick supports, backed by
barracks. During the 1779-82 invasion scare some 10,000 troops were stationed to
defend Chatham, and counter-attack an invading army advancing on London. Royal
Marine barracks and dockyard extensions reflected the critical role of the dockyard
in the naval defence of empire, but plans to build major defences at Chatham,
Portsmouth and Plymouth in the 1780s were properly voted down by the House of
Commons, which preferred spending money on the fleet. The period between 1803
and 1809 also witnessed considerable spending on enhanced dockyard defences, but
this fell away rapidly. The improved defences secured the dockyard, and the major
gunpowder magazines at Upnor.
In 1812 Chatham was chosen as the site for the Engineer’s Training School, for both
officers and men, directed by the dynamic Colonel Charles Pasley. Pasley remained in
command until 1841, writing the text-books of the programme and developing new
techniques. Pasley’s school transformed an inefficient under-strength Corps into a
powerful, professional body with outstanding technical skills, designing new dockyard
structures, forts and pontoon bridges, working closely with Civil Engineers on
railways, docks and cable telegraphs, while occupying an ever larger role in the Army.
With his colleagues John Fox Burgoyne and John Jones Pasley transformed the Corps,
educating officers, pushing the role of the Engineers in strategic thought, defence
policy and Imperial administration. For most of the nineteenth century the top men
from the Woolwich Academy chose the Engineers over the Artillery. Pasley also
pioneered underwater demolition, famously blowing up the wreck of HMS Royal
George between 1839 and 1843 to clear the anchorage at Spithead.
One feature of Pasley’s training programme was using the Chatham Lines to practice
siege techniques, with locally based Infantry and Royal Marine units also involved in
110
REVIEWS
large exercises. It was entirely appropriate the Royal Engineers learnt their siege craft
attacking a naval base. The primary offensive role of the British Army in a major war
in the nineteenth century would be to capture and destroy hostile naval bases. The
Crimean War would be dominated by the twelve month siege of Sevastopol, but few
remember that after the city fell the Engineers spent months blowing up the Russian
naval base and dockyard complex, a task they carried out with the same
thoroughness they had applied to the Napoleonic docks at Flushing in 1809.
In the 1860s the Engineers played major role in the design and construction of a
major dockyard extension to build and service ironclad steamships. The site is now
entirely covered by modern housing. At the same time both land and river defences
were upgraded, including submarine mines, which became a Royal Engineer mission.
By now the Royal Engineers, less than 1000 officers and men in 1815 were over
4,000 strong, and rising fast as the expansion of empire called for the application of
their unique skills in every corner of the globe. The Chatham School also trained
surveyors for the Ordnance Survey, military photographers and balloon pioneers.
When the dockyard defences were pushed out, to counter the increased range and
precision of rifled artillery, the cost of defence began to outstrip the value it could
provide. In 1889 live fire siege training moved away, as urban encroachment left no
space for more powerful artillery. By 1914 the Royal Engineers had reached a total of
25,000 of all ranks, increasing to 230,000 by 1918 – placing a heavy demand on the
training facilities. Later developments included early anti-aircraft batteries, air raid
shelters and the re-sue of the old lines as tank defences in 1940. They have become a
public park. Post-1945 contraction of the Defence estate saw the infantry and
marines move out, then the Nore Command was abolished in 1961, and in 1984 the
Dockyard closed. The Royal School of Military Engineering is now the only remnant
of what was once a massive defence presence in the town. There were 9,700 Royal
Engineers at the time the book was written.
Sir William Jervois, pronounced Jer-vus, provides a different perspective on the Royal
Engineers. A brilliant student he became a favourite of Charles Pasley, and then John
Burgoyne. His first project, the defence of Alderney, occupied the middle years of
the 1850s and segued neatly into the Secretaryship of the Defence Committee in
1855 and then the same role on the 1859 Royal Commission on the Defence of the
United Kingdom, which took the basic concept of Alderney, using forts to defend a
vital naval facility onto the mainland. Placing the interests of the Corps above the
country John Burgoyne advised fortifying every fishing port on the south coast against
invasion! Jervois proved more astute, his Secretarial input helped secure an Engineer
solution, which he proceeded to plan, designing much of the impressive defensive
systems built around Portsmouth, Plymouth and Milford Haven. Jervois’ ability to
tailor his designs to each location, and his attention to detail produced a series of
www.bjmh.org.uk
111
works that were held in the highest regard. These works made it impossible for a
small raiding force to threaten the dockyards, enhancing Britain’s deterrent capability.
Even the restricted programme of works needed to defend the naval bases ran to
over £12 million, a colossal sum when a first class battleship only cost £400,000.
They seemed even less attractive by the time they were completed, the French Navy
having collapsed in the wake of the Franco-Prussian War. After setting up the
programme Jervois set off on a strategic reconnaissance of the United States and
Canada in 1863, just in case war broke out. In 1869 he drew up war plans, which
involved seizing naval bases and imposing a blockade. Unimpressed by American
coast defences, and their massive smooth bore cast iron artillery, Jervois discovered
that the naval base at Bermuda would be the first target of any American attack. This
information generated the massive forts that still dominate the islands. His inspection
was part of an imperial tour in which he reported on vital coaling stations and
communications hubs including Aden, Perim, Mumbai, the Hughli River, Rangoon
(Yangon), before a career combining Imperial Government in Malaysia, Australia and
New Zealand with defence advice.
Crick argues that he missed out on the top post of Inspector General of Fortification
because of close personal and political connections between liberal statesman Hugh
Childers and the rather less distinguished General Sir Andrew Clarke. Returning
home in the late 1880s Jervois argued that the nation’s coastal defences should be
manned by the Navy, in line with practice in the rest of Europe. His Army colleagues
disagreed, choosing to ignore French and German practice. In 1894 Jervois became
Colonel Commandant of the Engineers, but died in 1897 after a carriage accident.
Although he never conducted a siege, defended a position, or served under fire, and
his forts were similarly unengaged, not a single one ever had to fire a shot in anger,
Jervois made an immense contribution to British security between 1852 and the end
of the century. Although Colonel George Sydenham Clarke RE criticised Jervois’
work in the 1890s, his comments were typically caustic, exaggerated and obtuse. Far
from being ‘Palmerston’s Follys’, Crick contends the forts were outstanding examples
of contemporary fortification engineering, widely praised by leading European
experts, including the Belgian Henri Brialmont and the Russian hero of Sevastopol
Franz Todleben. They were far stronger than the American and French forts torn to
pieces by rifled artillery in the Civil and Franco-Prussian conflicts. He judges they
would have met the test of war, but they worked even better as part of a system
that deterred great power conflict.
Both books are occasionally at sea on naval issues and consistently overrate the
possibility of a French invasion. In addition Crick’s discussion of the Crimean War,
the Baltic campaign of 1854, and the role of Sir John Burgoyne, who insisted on a
112
REVIEWS
regular siege of Sevastopol when the plan had been for a high tempo raid, and
definitely not a siege, requires significant revision. That said these are major
contributions to the history of the Royal Engineers and the defence systems they
created. Jervois consistently stressed to consider each coastal fortress and system as
a potential combination of both land and sea based systems, but never became
Inspector General of Fortifications, where he would have had the opportunity to
address the wider strategic pattern. In this area George Sydenham Clarke’s bluewater views were unusual, and resulted in his becoming the first secretary of the
Committee of Imperial Defence. Both men understood that the Royal Engineers’
mission was to protect the naval bases from which Britain exercised sea power, and
destroy those of hostile powers. Based on extensive archival research, field work and
in Crick’s case a professional expertise in mechanical engineering these books stress
the synergy between sea power and land defences, rather the old approach of
treating land and sea in isolation. Both are exceptionally well illustrated, reproducing
numerous plans, diagrams and images, dominated by forts and other buildings, many
from national collections. The books will be essential reading for students of the
Victorian Army and the Victorian fortress.
PROFESSOR ANDREW LAMBERT
Halik Kochanski. The Eagle Unbowed: Poland and the
Poles in the Second World War. Penguin, 2013. 734 pp.
ISBN 976-1-846-14358-8 (Hardback). Price £19.87.
Halik Kochanski’s The Eagle Unbowed is a work of panoramic scope. The author, a
British military historian of Polish origin, states her aim is to ‘present the most
complete picture of the Poles and Poland in the Second World War to date’. She
therefore goes beyond military history to tell the story of the horrors of Nazi and
Soviet occupation, including the Holocaust, and the complicated relationship between
Poland and its allies.
In introductory chapters she describes the rebirth of the Polish state after 1918, its
internal problems with ethnic minorities and its delicate relationship with its
neighbours, Germany and the Soviet Union. In response to German resurgence
under Hitler, Poland discussed the possibility of preventative action, but participated
in the dismemberment of Czechoslovakia in 1938. Faced with Nazi demands from
late 1938, Poland found itself in total isolation until it received the British guarantee
www.bjmh.org.uk
113
in April 1939. Unbeknown to the Poles, this guarantee included no real commitment
to the defence of Poland in the event of Nazi aggression.
Kochanski offers an excellent account of the September 1939 campaign, when the
Poles fought credibly against a technologically superior opponent. Although Britain
and France declared war in defence of Poland, they provided no real assistance.
While the Poles were battling Nazi forces in the West, Stalin’s Red Army invaded
from the East. Within five weeks, Poland was defeated and divided between the two.
Several chapters recount the horrors of life in the Nazi and Soviet occupation zones,
including the Holocaust. Poles suffered the full bestiality of Nazi occupation, while
those Poles in the Soviet-occupied zone were arrested and deported in huge
numbers. By the end of the war Poland had lost nearly one-fifth of its population.
Kochanski offers a fair assessment of Polish attitudes to the Holocaust, with no
attempt to hide the extent of Polish anti-Semitism or cases where Poles betrayed
Jews to the Nazis or even assisted in the murders. She also outlines the practical
difficulties involved in protecting Jews and notes that many thousands were helped
despite the risks – death was the automatic punishment for Poles even suspected of
helping Jews.
Kochanski’s handling of the diplomacy of the Polish Government-in-Exile in London is
excellent. Poland’s importance to the Western Allies was considerable until Hitler’s
invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941. As the Soviets came to play a major role in
defeating the Nazis, Allied support for Polish interests waned accordingly. Poland’s
liberation by the Red Army brought the imposition of a Soviet-dominated regime
that lasted until 1989. While 1945 brought peace and a sense of victory elsewhere,
Poland became, as Kochanski notes, the ‘only allied country to be abandoned behind
the Iron Curtain’.
Kochanski’s background in military history is evident in her excellent chapters on the
performance of Polish military units fighting alongside the Western Allies and the
Soviets. Polish units in the West fought with distinction in many theatres, notably the
Battle of Britain and the campaigns in Italy and Normandy. She also notes the huge
significance of the Polish breakthrough in decrypting German Enigma codes,
something she describes as Poland’s ‘greatest contribution’ to the Allied victory. Her
account of the Polish forces fighting alongside the Red Army fills an important gap in
English-language scholarship. The tragic Warsaw Uprising, when the underground
Home Army attempted to liberate the capital before the arrival of Soviet forces, is
also handled deftly. Appendix 1, containing an order of battle of all Polish units during
World War II, will be of considerable interest to military historians.
114
REVIEWS
The Eagle Unbowed uses an impressive range of primary and secondary sources in
English, but relatively few sources in Polish. One surprising absence is the lack of
sources in German and Russian.
The Eagle Unbowed contains little that has not been said before, but its breadth is
impressive. In places it sacrifices depth to achieve this breadth, but Kochanski has
written a very comprehensive work that certainly succeeds in its aim. It fills a gap in
the English-language literature and it likely to remain the standard introduction for
English-speaking readers for a long time to come.
SIMON NIZIOL
Anthony J. Nocella II, Colin Salter, and Judy K.C. Bentley
(eds.), Animals and War: Confronting the Military-Animal
Industrial Complex. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2014.
182 pp. ISBN 978-0739186510 (Hardcover). Price £48.
Nearly forty years after the publication of Peter Singer’s Animal Liberation, this
polemic study aims to integrate the fields of critical animal studies and peace studies
in an effort to bring to light the impact of war on nonhuman animals. As made clear
in the introduction by Colin Salter, Animals and War explores ‘the exploitation of
nonhuman animals as tools of war for human ends, on human terms and at the whim
of anthropocentric, speciesist and human chauvinist notions’ (p. 1). Although war is
broadly defined by the authors to include the struggle between humans and animals,
the book primarily focuses on the ways in which animals have been used in armed
conflicts and military-related research, particularly during the twentieth and twenty
first centuries.
In the first chapter, John Sorenson examines the ways in which animals have been
utilised as vehicles of war. Humans have employed elephants, camels, horses and
other species to transport soldiers and materiel during armed conflicts for centuries.
More broadly, however, the employment of animals has enabled armies to wage war.
Speciesism and dominionism on the part of humans, Sorenson convincingly argues,
has led to the perception of animals as ‘mere things to be used’ (p. 19).
Justin R. Goodman, Shalin G. Gala and Ian E. Smith then focus on the continued use
of animals in the training of medical personnel within the United States military. The
authors present a reasoned argument as to why the United States military should
www.bjmh.org.uk
115
replace such training programmes with more suitable methods already adopted by
other nations.
The third piece, by Ana Paulina Morrón, traces the history of animals as instruments
of war in human conflicts from prehistory to the present day. Whilst the bulk of this
chapter employs a narrative approach, its conclusion is reminiscent of Sorenson’s
study and reflects the book’s overall activist purpose: ‘In the context of
war…nonhuman animals have historically been viewed and treated as nothing more
than living, breathing instruments…with or against the nonhuman animal’s will’ (p.
70).
Julie Andrzejewski next considers the ‘invisibilization and oppression of animals’ in
war (p. 73). Andrzejewski rightly points out that the impact of war on animals is
seldom mentioned in the media and often accepted by humans as ‘collateral damage’
(p. 73). Whilst this chapter brings to light significant ethical issues concerning animals,
the author acknowledges that a substantial part of the study relies on the ‘use of our
imaginations to consider the consequences of such weapons and policies on animals
where specific evidence is either missing altogether or sketchy’ (p. 74). Laden with
emotionally charged rhetoric, this chapter concludes with an appeal to end ‘the
continued assault of human domination’ and calls for an ‘immediate and concerted
activist focus to defund militaries’ (p. 99).
In the fifth chapter, Rajmohan Ramanathapillai traces the tumultuous relationship
between humans and animals. Ramanathapillai identifies five key stages within the
human-nonhuman animal relationship, beginning with the belief among ancient
civilisations that animals possessed supernatural powers and were to be revered as
preeminent beings and eventually reaching the fifth stage, during which animals and
ecosystems are adversely affected through guerrilla operations. In doing so,
Ramanathapillai makes a compelling argument that animals have been ‘devalued from
sacred status to exploited lives’ (p. 101).
Finally, Bill Hamilton and Elliot M. Katz consider the current and potential uses of
animals by the world’s militaries, with particular emphasis on the United States. The
United States military has recently introduced new projects involving animals,
including the use of cyborg insects for reconnaissance operations and the
employment of dolphins to locate naval mines and attack enemy divers. The authors
contend that recent military and scientific research suggest that humans may further
genetically alter or otherwise ‘repurpose animals’ for use in war, leading to a ‘military
weaponization of animals’ (pp. 125-126).
Animals in War concludes with an imploration to ‘end wars among people, violence
toward the Earth and nonhuman animals’ (pp. 143-144). Whilst this study serves its
116
REVIEWS
activist purpose, readers in search of a more balanced historical account of the use of
animals in war may also feel a need to look elsewhere.
KIMBERLY BRICE O’DONNELL
Jim Beach. Haig's Intelligence: GHQ and the German Army
1916-1918. Cambridge University Press 2013. xv + 369
pp. 20 figures, 21 tables. ISBN 978-1-107-03961-2
(Hardback). Price £65.00.
Just occasionally a book appears which explores a genuinely new topic in great detail
and adds substantially to our knowledge. Haig's Intelligence is one such. The fruit of
meticulous research and presented in clear, elegant, language it is a worthy and much
needed addition to the historiography of the First World War. In a series of firm,
penetrating, chapters in Part 1, Jim Beach guides the reader through the complexities
of Organisation, Leadership, Personnel, Frontline, Espionage, Photography, Signals
and Analysis and then moves on in Part 2 to a series of fascinating case studies:
Somme, Arras, Third Ypres, Cambrai, German Offensives and the Hundred Days.
Part 1 could potentially have been a dry, though thoroughly informative read, but
clever and apposite use of pithy quotation brings it to life. We read of one
conference, 'dominated by a windy, flatulent monologue from Charteris' then, after
Cambrai, 'The wolves got their teeth into Charteris, who, being plump and short of
breath, fell an easy victim'. In between these events, however, we are left in no doubt
about the increasing professionalisation of intelligence in the BEF, nor of the immense
difficulties those responsible for it faced. So often the intelligence staff, under
extreme pressure, found itself trying to make bricks without straw and to provide
cast iron predictive clarity when the raw intelligence yielded nothing more than a
hazy overview. Nevertheless, Beach is surely correct when he concludes that, '…
intelligence had by 1918 come of age as a distinct military support function within the
British army. Later generations would refine it, but its foundations were laid on the
Western Front between 1914 and 1918'.
The constant problems with which the intelligence branch grappled, the fact that it
was dealing with an inexact science, means that its practitioners attracted much
subsequent criticism from men equipped with 20:20 hindsight. It is always easier to
explain why something has happened than to predict what is going to occur and,
ultimately, Charteris paid the price. Beach is particularly good on the manoeuvring
which led ultimately to his sacking at the end of 1917 and although he makes a strong
www.bjmh.org.uk
117
case that his alleged deficiencies were overstated, nevertheless one theme which
runs through the entire book is that, even if Haig's heads of intelligence were not
simply feeding him from first to last what he wanted to hear, there was certainly a
tendency to put the best gloss on the situation - to the point on occasion of wishful
thinking - and, over time, this can only have diluted the quality of analysis and advice
which Haig was receiving.
One example will serve to illustrate this point. At the end of June 1916 the German
lines opposite the British on the Somme were subjected to repeated releases of
cylinder gas and, in a GHQ Summary of Information published the following month, it
was estimated that five percent of the troops manning the first position were gassed.
In truth, Infantry Regiment 180 at Ovillers, for example, suffered 'a few' fatal gas
casualties and Reserve Infantry Regiment 99, defending Thiepval, only one. This brief
illustration brings into focus one way in which this excellent book could have been
made even better. Its time frame means that for all but the months of July and August
1916, the battles which form the case studies were directed on the German side by
Army Group Crown Prince Rupprecht, the files of which - huge quantities of them are available for study in Munich and, in addition, large amounts of relevant
information is archived in the Hauptstaatsarchiv Stuttgart and the
Bundesarchiv/Militärarchiv in Freiburg im Breisgau, which holds a priceless cache of
documents concerning the German manpower crisis. As a result, it would be entirely
feasible to test many of the intelligence assessments made against the actual facts.
This would be a thoroughly worthwhile and interesting follow up to this outstanding
piece of research and writing which I recommend unreservedly.
DR JACK SHELDON
John Grodzinski. Defender of Canada: Sir George Prevost
and the War of 1812, Norman OK, University of
Oklahoma Press, Appendices, Notes. 375pp. ISBN 9780806143873 (Hardback). Price £21.39.
The bi-centennial of the hitherto forgotten war of 1812, between the United
Kingdom and the United States, has encouraged the publishing of several works on
that war. Many of these works have tended to concentrate on either the pelagic
naval history, or the specific land battles on the Canadian frontier. Grodzinski’s
work tackles an aspect of the war that has been less developed in those other works.
He analyses the role of the Governor-General of Canada and Commander in Chief
of the British forces, British North America. In doing so he deals with the struggle
for the Great Lakes and Lake Champlain in some detail, considering both the military
118
REVIEWS
and the naval aspects. Such details are set as the background to his study of Prevost.
His thesis seems to be to rehabilitate (he says “reassess” (p.8)) the reputation of Sir
George Prevost. He repudiates the attacks on Prevost’s leadership that were made
contemporaneously or immediately after the events. Because of the evidential
citations the work avoids being hagiographical; though it has to be observed that in
developing his reassessment he argues that every decision taken by Prevost was
correct in the light of all the evidence he can present. His notes and bibliography
show that a wide range of sources has been consulted. His military explanations
indicate precision, though as a minor criticism his description of the constitutional
position of the Privy Council is not quite accurate. The absence of almost any
reference in the book to Brock should also be taken into account.
The book begins with a survey of Prevost’s earlier commands, including Nova Scotia
and Martinique. It begins the study of Prevost in the 1812 war with the state of
affairs in 1812 he found taken as a given. Grodzinzki attributes Prevost’s reticence
early in the war to London prohibiting him from ‘striking offensively’ “except it be for
the purpose of preventing or rebelling Hostilities” (p55). Describing Prevost as ‘no
stranger to naval affairs’ (p. 62) Grodzinski describes Prevost’s work in preparing the
Provincial Marine. Indeed a feature of the book is that it gives the role of the
Provincial Marine its proper place in the war.
While the book considers Prevost’s role in all the inland operations, from the thrust
into Michigan and the defence of Upper and Lower Canada to the naval position on
the Great Lakes and the Royal Navy’s entry into inland waters, the important
chapters in respect to Prevost’s reputation are those relating to the Plattsburg
campaign, Yeo’s attack on him and the prospective court martial.
As a result, the most detailed study of the military and naval operations are those of
the Plattsburg campaign. This was crucial to Prevost’s reputation. Grodzinski
analyses in some detail the conflict between Yeo, who commanded the naval forces
on the Lakes, and Prevost. Yeo thought the battle on Lake Champlain was lost by
Prevost’s lack of action. Grodzinzki justifies Prevost’s withdrawal of forces back to
Canada citing the fate of General Burgoyne who did not retreat from Lake
Champlain. Prevost had his troop numbers limited by the requirements of other
theatres, but he could be congratulated on his planning. Grodzinski also argues that
Prevost’s failure to press home the attack on Lake Champlain ought to be compared
with other losses and stalemates in other fronts of the land war. Yeo alleged that
Prevost, ignored the limited capabilities of the lake flagship, failed to start the land
advance when it had been planed (thus allowing the Americans to attack the navy)
and did not press home the attack on Plattsburg thereby losing the chance of
attacking the Americans’ lake vessels. These accusations were to haunt Prevost to a
death that occurred ahead of the court martial, before which he was to appear, could
www.bjmh.org.uk
119
be convened. Grodzinski assesses that it was the Royal Navy which damaged
Prevost’s reputation; a reputation which, he argues, subsequent writers have
accepted too readily.
As the only recent study of Prevost’s role as commander in chief the work adds to
the understanding of the command responsibilities of the British North America Act
command and gives another basis for considering the role of Prevost.
IAN STAFFORD
120
ARTICLE SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Authors should submit their manuscripts, plus 100 word abstract, as an e-mail
attachment to the Editors at [email protected].
Please provide us with appropriate contact details including your full mailing address.
The editors are happy to consider papers that are under consideration elsewhere on
the condition that the author indicates the other journals where the article has been
submitted.
Papers submitted to the BJMH must not have been published elsewhere.
The BJMH is a double blind peer-reviewed journal, i..e communication between
reviewers and authors is anonymised and managed by the Editorial Team. All papers
that the Editors consider appropriate for publication will be submitted to at least two
suitably qualified reviewers for comment. Subsequent publication is dependent on
receiving satisfactory comments from reviewers. All authors will be sent copies of
the comments from the reviewers.
The Editors are keen to encourage article submissions from a variety of scholars and
authors regardless of their academic background. For those papers that demonstrate
great promise and significant research but are offered by authors who have yet to
publish or who need further editorial support, the Editors are willing to offer
mentoring and guidance to ensure an article’s successful publication.
The Editorial Team is particularly keen to consider articles on subjects that might not
ordinarily receive much attention, which clearly show the topic has been properly
researched and for which the author does not receive any external financial support.
The Editors will undertake this service on a case-by-case basis. If authors wish to
take advantage of this Editorial Support Service then they should provide an outline
of their background and explain how they believe the Editors can help when they
submit their paper.
The Editorial Team makes every effort to offer this service in a transparent manner
and so will publish their reasons for supporting the author at the same time that
their article appears in the BJMH.
Articles should be no more than 8000 words in length (including footnotes) and be
set out according the BJMH Style Guide. Authors should note that articles will usually
www.bjmh.org.uk
121
be rejected – unless the author has indicated that they wish to take advantage of our
Editorial Support Service – if they do not conform to the Chicago Manual of Style or
if they go over the word count.
The editors may suggest changes to articles and book reviews in the interest of
clarity and economy of expression; such changes will not be made without
consultation with the author. The editors are the final arbiters of usage, grammar,
and length.
Authors are encouraged to supply relevant artwork (maps, charts, line drawings, and
photographs) with their essays. The author is responsible for obtaining permission to
publish any copyrighted material.
The submission of an article, book review, or other communication is taken by the
Editors to indicate that the author willingly transfers the copyright to the BJMH and
the British Commission for Military History. However, the BJMH and the
Commission freely grant the author the right to reprint his or her piece, if published,
in the author’s own works. In the case of articles, upon acceptance the author will be
sent a contract and an assignment of copyright.
The British Journal of Military History acting on behalf of the British Commission for
Military History do not accept responsibility for statements, either of fact or opinion,
made by contributors.
BJMH STYLE GUIDE
The style guide for BJMH is very simple and designed to encourage you to submit
your work.
Please use Times New Roman in Font 12 for all your submissions.
Footnotes should be in Font 10. In addition, we prefer that you adopt the
Chicago Style for your paper. More information about the style can be found here:
http://www.chicagomanualofstyle.org/home.html.
Use footnotes not endnotes. Quotation marks should come before the full stop,
reference numbers after it and spelling should be British rather than American.
Please justify your text. Paragraphs do not require indenting. Line spacing should be
single and leave a carriage return between paragraphs.
All quotes should use single quotation marks and wherever possible have a footnote
122
reference. Extended quotes (over three lines) require indenting. Quotes within
quotes should use double quotation marks.
With regards to page layout: the top and bottom of the page should be
2.54cm, the left/right margin 3.17 and the header/footer 1.25cm.
Examples of References:
Michael Howard, War in European History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).
Michael Howard, ‘Men against Fire: The Doctrine of the Offensive in 1914’, in Peter
Paret (ed.), Makers of Modern Strategy, (Oxford: Clarendon, 1994), pp. 510-526.
BOOK REVIEW SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
The BJMH seeks to publish concise, accessible and well-informed reviews of books
relevant to the topics covered by the journal. Reviews are published as a service to
the readership of the BJMH and should be of use to a potential reader in deciding
whether or not to buy or read the book. The range of books reviewed by the BJMH
will reflect the view of the field of military history as set out in the Journal Mission
Statement. Books published by academic publishers, general commercial publishers,
and specialist military history imprints may all be considered for review in the BJMH.
Reviews of other types of publication such as web resources may also be
commissioned.
The Editorial Team for the BJMH is responsible for approaching reviewers and
commissioning book reviews. From time to time a list of available books for review
may be issued, with an open call for potential reviewers to contact the BJMH Editors.
The policy of the BJMH is otherwise for reviews to be solicited by the Editors rather
than for reviewers to propose reviews themselves. In all cases, once a reviewer has
been matched with a book, the Editorial Team will arrange for them to be sent a
review copy.
Book reviews should be upto a maximum of 700 words. A review should summarise
the main aims and arguments of the work, should evaluate its contributions and value
to military history broadly defined, and should identify to which readership(s) the
work is most likely to appeal. The journal does not encourage personal comment or
attacks in the reviews it publishes, and the Editorial Team reserves the right to ask
reviewers for revisions to their reviews. The final decision whether or not to publish
a review remains with the Editorial Team. The Editorial Team may seek the views of
an author of a book that has been reviewed. Any comment from the author may be
published.
www.bjmh.org.uk
123
All submitted reviews should begin with the bibliographic information of the work
under review, including the author(s) or editor(s), the title, the place and year of
publication, the publisher, the number of pages, the ISBN for the format of the work
that has been reviewed, and the price for this format if available. Prices should be
given in the original currency, but if the book has been published in several territories
including the UK then the price in pounds sterling should be supplied. The number of
illustrations and maps should also be noted if present. An example of the heading of a
review is as follows:
Gow, James. The Serbian Project and its Adversaries: a Strategy of War Crimes. London:
Hurst, 2003. xii + 322 pp. 1 map. ISBN 978-1850654995 (Paperback). Price £17.50.
The reviewer’s name, and an institutional affiliation if relevant, should be appended at
the bottom of the review.
Reviews of a single work should not contain footnotes, but if the text refers to any
other works then their author, title and year should be apparent in order for readers
to be able to identify them. The Editorial Team and Editorial Board may on occasion
seek to commission longer Review Articles of a group of works, and these may
contain footnotes with the same formatting and standards used for articles in the
BJMH.
124

British Journal for Military H istory

Transcription

Similar documents

To view or the PDF of this presentation click here

From Paddy Whack to Paddy Punk

One-Sheet - CMI Entertainment

Tipperary Hill - Syracuse NY

Layout 1 (Page 1)

Digital Marketing Trends 2015 - Dundalk

Im ag ine you`re the Minister for Finan ce

Tony Kenny - CMI Entertainment

MCTEGGART IRISH DANCERS Saturday, July 28

attachment_id=3959 - Dream Irish Wedding