It would be impossible to leave the month of November 2018 without mentioning the 100th anniversary of World War One, except nearly everyone else has ignored it. Not completely true; a three minute segment on a news program seems sufficient for 30,000,000 casualties. It is understandable why people want to forget that particular war; it was the last time that a major conflict was fought for nationalism, or King and Country, on all sides. The next one was fought against nationalism; National Socialism. After this first one, the level of naivety would never be so high.
Another difficulty in explaining the First World War is how it started, almost casually, an assassination, a common enough occurrence at the time, snowballing into a conflict taking in most of the European continent. Untangling treaties and agreements, many based more on marriage than sense, makes the beginnings of this devastating conflict even murkier. It didn't matter; the major powers, France, England and Germany, had been gearing up for this fight since at least the turn of the century. It was the first war based as much on an arms race as on an actual event.
Most of what I remember about the origins of the war comes from 'The Guns of August' by Barbara W. Tuchman, which I read as a youth. I remember it as an excellent book, but the entire volume was devoted to explaining just one month in 1914. The alliances were incredibly complicated, made worse by history, particularly the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-1871. Here, the French got their ass kicked by a unified Germany only sixty years after Napoleon had nearly conquered all of Europe.
Once the actual war started, things bogged down immediately. In fact, the most permanent image of this conflict is that of trench warfare. It wasn't new; both the American Civil War and the Siege of Paris had elements of dug-in lines, impossible to move. What was new was the technology, or more specifically the progress made inflicting damage to the human body.
It was appalling, but it was inevitable, if one buys the argument that the pinnacle of human innovation is warfare. The humanist in me would disagree, but the evidence points elsewhere. During the time of Napoleon, major battles were fought in open spaces. Grand armies had room to maneuver, tactics could be utilized. The concept we know now as Total War started deliberately in the American Civil War, with Sherman's March to the Sea, destroying everything in it's path; crops, infrastructure, cities.
Still, civilian casualties were minimal because of the range of the weaponry. It was still necessary to get soldiers into the town targeted, and soldiers wanted to kill other soldiers, not women and children, unless there was an ethnic cleansing. There might be some rape and pillaging, common from ancient times, but modern armies prided themselves on discipline, trying to keep such incidents to a minimum. At least that is what the official reports of the time say.
With the advances in military hardware in places like the Krupp Arms Works, not to mention Noble's advancement in explosives, World War One had a whole new basket of toys for the generals to play with. Guns could fire over 70 miles, deep into enemy territory. They experimented with the new bi-plane dropping bombs, although it was mostly done by hand. Best of all, you didn't see your target. Death could be delivered without recognizing the humanity being destroyed, a brand new philosophical development in warfare, one that still resonates today.
That became, in retrospect, the theme of the First World War; technological advancement exponentially increasing man's inhumanity to man. It was a major part of much of the literature resultant of the war, such as 'All Quiet on the Western Front'. It is interesting, that book being written from the perspective of a German soldier. I guess you needed to be defeated to realized the futility of trying to survive such as devastating event.
It was devastating, especially trench warfare, a condition some soldiers had to live under for ungodly lengths of time. They tried to make the best of it, finding humor in the situation. There was nothing funny about it, living in mud and water. The concept of 'No Man's Land' was invented to explain the space between the trenches, a place where no living creature could exist. Every leaf, branch and speck of bark would be blasted from every plant. The smart creatures, humans excepted, fled the area.
There were attempts by the soldiers, finding themselves in such deplorable and deadly conditions, to maintains some semblance of humanity. Most notable was the Christmas Truce of 1914, when everyone on the front, both sides, decided to stop being at war for one day. Groups walked across No Man's Land, sharing food and drink, recognizing each other's humanity, even if for the briefest moment. High Command put an end to that shit right away.
Similarly, chivalry still existed in the newer, more mechanized combat. Fighter pilots treated each other like knights riding into battle, a social class apart from the grunts on the ground. U boats would often signal an enemy vessel before sinking it, giving the crew a chance to abandon ship before sinking it with a torpedo. Such acts of gallantry would not proceed into the future.
Instead, the powers upped the inhumanity, introducing guns that shot more bullets per minute. The ultimate weapon for the First World War was the gas attack, virtually the only dependable method to get enemy combatants out of an entrenched areas. Everybody used it, but it was so heinous that to this day it remains banned world wide. Watch the news for reports of gas attacks in Syria or Iraq to see how closely it remains monitored and condemned to imagine how horrifying it must have been for unprepared soldiers on the front lines.
Maps were different during that war, with the now-obscure Austria-Hungary and Ottoman Empire winding up on the wrong end of victory. They were shattered as a result, as was the Russian Empire, who couldn't hang on long enough to enjoy victory. falling to the Bolsheviks. Italy was with France and England, not against, as in the next big war. In fact, one interesting fact that I learned in Venice on Armistice Day was that Italy ended the war a week earlier, on November 4th, 1918, after the battle of Vittorio Veneto, which was dangerous close to that city. Italy won, and left it at that.
America's participation was a major change in the way we, as a nation, saw ourselves. Despite the Boxer Rebellion, this was the first time the United States ventured out of the Western Hemisphere to become involved in world political conflicts, beyond simply defending out people and property. We had been aggressive in out own area of influence, invading Central America, Mexico and the Caribbean on any pretense. Now we were shoulder to shoulder with allies against a common enemy, the heroic rescuers, a role we would act again in the next World War.
Even entering the war was not without controversy. Good and bad was not so defined, despite British propaganda. America was split along class lines, the older settlers for England, the newer Eastern European immigrants often backing Germany, neutralists and pacifists in between. When the Lusitania sank, there had been fair warning from the Germans. Even the Zimmerman letters are dubious, possibly faked by Great Britain, an act of provocation and deception. In the end, it didn't matter; we were going 'over there'.
It was the first modern conscription and call up in American history; before, if you were a politician or enough money to outfit and feed a regimen, you could be the officer in charge, explaining incompetents like Daniel Sickles. Now the military had a strict hierarchy, not cutting to the front of the line. Basic training was still brutally short and mostly useless, six weeks, just enough time to teach you to pray when you lay dying. Units came from all over, mixed up geographically.
The Influenza Outbreak made things worse, the last great pandemic in American history. Troop movement and barracks life were perfect incubators, helping to spread the disease rapidly from coast to coast. Troop ships were the worse; the brass simply sent 1/3rd more than needed, knowing how many would die during the voyage. Doughboys were sent to the front completely unprepared for what they were about to face.
The war had stretched for years without front lines moving noticeably despite appalling losses on all sides. American troops were used simply as cannon fodder, too unexperienced to avoid getting killed in record numbers. It worked overwhelming the Germans, who were losing their allies anyway. The Kaiser tried to surrender with dignity, but France and Britain squashed that. Their short term gains laid the foundation for the next disaster.
I've avoided talking about the Second World War, but after the callous profiteering on all sides, it was inevitable. The sequel was all speed; dive bombers, blitzkriegs, tank columns. New scenery, tropical lushness turned into hellscapes, not just temperate meadows. Heroes and villains, goods guys and bad guys, color coded, all wearing uniforms. Ending with a mushroom cloud. Can't top Armageddon for a closer, can you?
Try to explain 'The War to End all Wars' to a young person and watch the sarcasm bubble up spontaneously. It was an exercise in futility, trying to find any lasting peace. Humans simply do not function like that; between greed, natural disasters, and prejudice, conflict is a given. We toned down the rhetoric for later. 'Making the World Safe for Democracy'. Eventually 'Peace with Honor'.
I don't even know if any of my grandfathers, or even my wife's, fought in the First World War. The call up was short for America, as was the time at the front. Unlike the next one, it didn't hit every American family quite as hard. I do have one connection to World War One, my legendary Uncle Rene.
Ren Richards was born in Alsace - Lorraine, forced to serve in both the French and German military for at two years. Instead, he emigrate to the States, winding up in the service around 1910. During General Pershing's skirmish with Poncho Villa, he was in Mexico. As the Great War progressed overseas, he was made aide-de-camp, speaking all required language fluently. I have no reports of what he did following 'Black Jack' Pershing around, but he secured with a lifetime job at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan afterwards despite not finishing his education. I am sure it was scant reward for what he did.
I have no photos of my Uncle Rene, nor any stories about his exploits, He married my Grandmother's sister on my father's side, Aunt Flo. They never had any children; too bad, he would have vastly improved the gene pool. Dying before I was ten, I have only vague memories of a walk up apartment, dumbwaiters, sitting at a table for the holidays.
My mother adored him, said he was the best cook ever, understandable since he cooked all the family get togethers. After he died, that became her burden. My father kept his foot locker, which had traveled around the world. I have it now, sitting in the sun room. I try to keep flowers on it.
There was a short written memoir, mostly about chasing Villa in Mexico. My father's family was prone to division, brothers and sisters getting into arguments, picking sides. There were uncles and aunts who could have told me about Uncle Rene, the amazing things he did, but fighting got in the way. Sort of like World War One, if you think about it.
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