War and Game

Alexander Watson. Enduring the Great War: Combat, Morale and Collapse in the German and British Armies, 1914-1918. Cambridge Military History Series. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. xv + 288 pp. $99.00 (cloth), ISBN 978-0-521-88101-2.

Reviewed by Jesse Kauffman (Stanford University)
Published on H-German (May, 2009)
Commissioned by Susan R. Boettcher

Optimism in Hell, or: The Power of Positive Thinking

It is remarkably easy to take for granted the simple fact the First World War went on for as long as it did because every day for four years, millions of ordinary men not only endured unimaginable horrors, terrible tedium, and abysmal living conditions, they also continued amidst all this to do the hard work of soldiering--and, quite often, to do it well. The men in the trenches not only held on to their sanity as the war raged around them, but continued to pick up their rifles and go "over the top," to emerge from their dugouts after having tons of high explosives rained down upon them, and to expose themselves to danger in countless other ways, despite having seen up-close what shrapnel, machine gun rounds, and rifle bullets could do to the human body.

Alexander Watson did not take these matters for granted. He set out to explore how British and German soldiers withstood the stresses of war and continued to fight on the western front. The result is this prize-winning work. The explanation Watson offers for this remarkable endurance is suitably complex. Deploying British and German archival sources, including combatants' letters, and mustering an impressive mastery of the secondary literature not only on each army, but on combat motivation and military cohesion in general, Watson argues that a complicated variety of factors kept men on both sides going: religious belief, a sense that their cause was just and their side destined for victory, the influence of formal and more subtle, informal coercion, and the leadership of able and concerned junior officers. While much of this has been argued before, Watson gracefully pulls it all together in a seamless synthesis, enlivened by well chosen quotes from his sources, that is all the more impressive for the clarity of Watson's prose. Watson stakes his main claim to innovation on his incorporation of modern-day psychological research. He argues, based on this research and on contemporary wartime accounts, that unrealistic optimism is a natural component of human nature, a component particularly helpful to people dealing with highly stressful situations (like combat). Thus, Watson argues, British and German soldiers not only kept sane, but kept fighting because they believed, despite highly suggestive evidence to the contrary, that they would emerge from the conflict unharmed. This conclusion seems plausible, and is a welcome addition to the literature on morale and motivation.

Also innovative is Watson's resolutely comparative approach, adopted to "avoid the cultural biases which may have crept into some of the existing almost exclusively national historiography" (p. 7). Enduring the Great War both testifies to the great potential of transnational and comparative work on the war and demonstrates the limitations of such an approach. At its finest, Watson's work reveals the shared human experience of the war. For example, he emphasizes that dark soldiers' humor (including the bestowing of silly nicknames on deadly instruments of war) played a role in helping combatants deal with the horrors on both sides of the front line; this point may seem minor, but in fact moves the discussion a long way from the images of German soldiers as Nietzsche-crazed, war-hungry madmen that still tend to surface in Anglophone scholarship on the war. Watson is also emphatic in his insistence that a strong belief in the defensive nature of the war drew men on both sides to the colors when war erupted. His analysis thus rejects the idea that a slavish, mindless obedience to authority led German men to serve, while British men joined the ranks out of a desire to take a principled stand in favor of Belgium. Still, Watson's insistence that cultural and social factors specific to each army were not as important as their shared essential humanity occasionally leads him to minimize some obviously important differences. The question of religion is one instance of this tendency. Watson notes that the German army was more deeply steeped in religious belief than the British. That these convictions had a major effect on combat motivation is strongly suggested by one of Watson's central sources, a questionnaire-based study conducted by a veteran combat officer, Walter Ludwig, who asked soldiers what they thought about in order to overcome their fears in the face of violent death. Religious belief is by far the predominant answer, suggesting that it should play a greater role in any attempt to analyze the morale and combat effectiveness of the German army. In addition, Watson himself admits that the British regimental system and the intense loyalties it could foster heavily influenced how the British army fought. This system had no real counterpart in Germany.

One intriguing, and possibly enormously consequential, difference between the German and British armies that Watson highlights is the differing targets of soldiers' bitterness. On the British side of the trenches, anger at war profiteers rarely escalated into a wholesale indictment of the British political system. In contrast, Watson finds, similar anger in the German ranks quickly escalated into wholesale condemnation of the German social and political order. "We all know," one soldier from Berlin noted in his diary in March 1916, "that we are being sacrificed for the interests of a clique. We fight for the Prussian Junker economy.... This clique has become the ruin of the German people" (pp. 75-76). This information strongly suggests that German soldiers did not feel themselves as tightly bound to the institutions that had ordered them into battle as British soldiers did, a contrast that goes some way towards explaining the phenomenon Watson focuses on in his last chapter, "The German Collapse in 1918." One of the book's strongest, the chapter combines narrative elegance with a clear, well-supported challenge to the reigning historiographical consensus. Watson trains his sights most clearly on Wilhelm Deist and his argument that a "covert strike" by German soldiers brought the war to an end. Watson offers the more plausible argument that exhausted German soldiers gradually but inexorably lost both the will and the ability to fight a war that, at they end, they finally understood they could not win.

Watson further insists that the role of Germany's officers in bringing about the surrender of German troops on the western front in 1918 be made a central part of the story of the end of Germany's war. He is absolutely right; the part played by Germany's officers has been overlooked and needs to be examined. But Watson overextends himself here by arguing that Germany's officers expressly ordered their men to surrender in 1918. Watson bases this claim mainly on the fact that the officer/man ratio of Germans taken prisoner by the British from August to November 1918 was equal to the officer/man ratio of the German field army in July 1918. This data is certainly compelling, but doesn't quite support the argument. Watson shows indisputably that officers did indeed surrender; in addition, he uses contemporary accounts to highlight that officers were often crucial for carrying out the process of surrender. But, as he himself concedes, it is possible that these officers were forced to do so by their men. In any event, Watson has firmly implicated the officer corps in the steady erosion of the German army's effectiveness as a fighting force. We can hope that future research will elaborate on this still fairly mysterious chapter in the history of the German war effort.

This style of argumentation is symptomatic of a recurring flaw in this book; it is highly ambitious and seeks to overturn our understanding of the war on virtually every point it touches on. As a result, sometimes the evidence is asked to support a greater revisionist load than it is really capable of bearing. Still, with its impressive use of archival evidence, its mastery of the relevant secondary literature, and its scrupulously fair-minded treatment of the German army, this book is well worth reading for anyone who seeks a glimpse inside the minds of the men, both British and German, who fought the Great War.

Although World War II is seen as a fight against the wrongs of fascism, winning the war required Allied leaders to make moral compromises that were often far from right. In the United States, Russian leader Josef Stalin was Time magazine’s 1942 “Man of the Year” and heralded as an American ally because he fought the Nazis in Europe. But before he became Hitler’s enemy, Stalin was his ally and worked with the German leader to carve up nations and eliminate political enemies. Recently unearthed documents reveal a clearer picture of the actions that gave Stalin his iron-fisted reputation and the extent to which the United States and Great Britain accommodated him so he would continue to fight Hitler.

Secret Russian documents made available only briefly after the fall of Communism have helped historians get a deeper understanding about what happened between Allied leaders during the war. In WWII Behind Closed Doors, award-winning historian and filmmaker Laurence Rees (Auschwitz: Inside the Nazi State, Nazis – A Warning from History) uses these documents to tell the story of the backroom deals that cost many lives but were seen as necessary evils to keep the Soviet Union in the war. Although about 27 million Soviet citizens perished in the war, Stalin’s long-term payoff was Eastern Europe, which fell under the shadow of Communism after the war and remained there until 1989.

Since the fall of Communism, many witnesses to atrocities during World War II have stepped forward to tell their stories–from the brutalized victims to the military collaborators. Rees uses this testimony, along with documents and historical reenactments, in WWII Behind Closed Doors to bring to life a story that was long tucked away in the annals of history–the impact of the Allied leaders’ complicated negotiations and actions on the lives of average people.

Joseph Stalin is played by Alexei Petrenko (Lilacs, Doktor Zhivago, 12, Grachi, The Russian Idea), Winston Churchill is portrayed by Paul Humpoletz (Losing It) and Bob Gunton (24, Shawshank Redemption, Desperate Housewives) takes on Franklin D. Roosevelt. Renowned U.S. presidential historical Robert Dallek served as an academic advisor to the series and Web site and has written an essay evaluating the uneasy alliance between the three.

LINK

Tweed Heads: Banora Point Baptist Church member Harry Henkel 82, was a member of the elite paratroopers who under Captain Otto Skorzeny rescued deposed Italian prime minister Benito Mussolini on 12 September 1943 from the Campo Imperatore Hotel at Gran Sasso.

Harry Henkel's story of that specific event is to be the subject of Mark Tronson's next book on Harry Henkel's war experiences as a boy parachutist when only 16 years of age.

“Anzac Day for Harry Henkel is 'quiet space' in which he reflects privately,” Mark Tronson noted. Mark's first book on Harry Henkel titled, 'Boy Parachutist 1943-45' was published last year as an e-book, recounting Harry Henkel's mesmerizing Wehrmacht story.

Harry Henkel saw action in North Africa (behind the lines), Sicily (Catania paratroop drop), Monte Casino (defending the mountain top) and the Russian Front (final defense and escape).

Harry was wounded twice, hospitalised and escaped death by the SS. As his mother was English, his fluency enabled him to become a US Army translator at Nuremburg before migrating to Australia in 1952.

'Boy Parachutist 1943-45' is available at
http://bushorchestra.com/HarryHenkel.htm

“Recently when Harry Henkel was hospitalised for a minor operation, the nursing staff read his astonishing story and he was granted 'legend status' much to his bewilderment,” Mark Tronson contended.

British admiral Born in Southampton, England, on 5 December 1859, John Rushworth Jellicoe was the son of J. H. Jellicoe, a captain in the mercantile marine. He received his education at Rottingdean, in Sussex, after which he received an appointment as a naval cadet and entered service in the Royal Navy in 1872. He was given a commission as a sublieutenant in 1880 and, two years later, saw action in the war against Egypt. In 1883, he returned to England as a student at HMS Excellent, the naval gunnery school where he subsequently became an instructor (1884–85 and 1886–89). Promoted to the rank of commander in 1891, he was appointed to the HMS Victoria and was injured when that ship collided with another English vessel, HMS Camperdown. He later served under Admiral Sir Michael Culme-Seymour, and in 1897 he was promoted to the rank of captain.

In 1898, Jellicoe was named to serve on the HMS Centurion on the China station under Admiral Sir Edward Seymour. Two years later, he saw action at Beijing (then called Peking) during the insurrection by the Chinese rebels in the so-called “Boxer Rebellion” of 1900. While in battle, he was wounded, and for his services he was made a Commander of the Order of the Bath (CB). He then returned to England, where he served in several naval staff positions, including naval assistant to the controller (1902–03), director of naval ordnance (1905–07), Third Sea Lord and controller of the navy (1908–10), commander of the Atlantic Fleet (1910–11), and Second Sea Lord (1913–14).

Jellicoe was promoted to vice admiral and named commander in chief of the Grand Fleet on 4 August 1914 at the outbreak of the First World War. He spent his first months in command blockading Germany from resupply of commercial and war matériel. He came under some criticism, both from the government and the press, for his “timidity” in not taking on the German fleet. However, he could do little in this respect since the German navy remained in home waters. In May 1916, Jellicoe’s advance squadron under David Beatty detected movement by German ships into the North Sea. This led to the Battle of Jutland. Historian George Bruce writes:

The German High Seas Fleet under Admiral [Reinhard] Scheer deliberately or by accident met the British Fleet engaged in a sweep of the North Sea. Admiral [Franz] Von Hipper commanded five battle cruisers, while Scheer followed 50 miles behind with 16 new and eight old battleships. There were also 11 light cruisers and 63 destroyers. The British fleet, under Admiral Jellicoe, consisted of the northern group of three battle cruisers and 24 battleships commanded by Jellicoe himself; and the southern fleet, [commanded by] Admiral Beatty, six battle cruisers and four battleships. In addition there were 34 light cruisers and 80 destroyers. Beatty and Hipper sighted each other, and Hipper turned to link up with Scheer, after which the two groups shelled each other. Beatty then turned back to lure the Germans into Jellicoe’s hands and in the process lost two of his battleships, but the maneuver accomplished, the entire British fleet soon formed a line east and southeast into which the Germans were sailing as into a net. Just when their destruction seemed certain, the weather closed down and rescued the Germans, who later, under the cover of darkness, skillfully made their escape. The Royal Navy lost three battle cruisers, three light cruisers and eight destroyers; Germany [lost] four cruisers and five destroyers, but the morale of the German Navy had been destroyed. Thenceforward it avoided battle, for the sailors threatened mutiny at the prospect.

The losses in manpower for each side pointed more to a German victory than a British one: The Germans lost 2,545 men and no prisoners, while the British lost 6,097 men and 177 prisoners. Despite what appeared to be a British “victory” because of the German withdrawal, Jellicoe was savaged by British public opinion, perhaps because only 12 German ships were lost and their casualties were much lighter. Historian James Lucas writes: “What the British public had expected . . . was a Nelson- style victory, not an inconclusive battle. Ships of the Grand Fleet were greeted by boos, while the newspapers, to whom Beatty was a hero through his battle cruiser exploits, accused Jellicoe of bungling the battle. At the subsequent Court of Inquiry, Beatty’s statements seemed to substantiate this.” However, when, two years later, the German fleet surrendered at Scapa (November 1918), it was clearly Jellicoe’s cautious strategy of waiting them out, rather than taking them on and incurring losses, that had won the day.

Writing in his memoir The Grand Fleet, Jellicoe explains why he initiated the strategy he did against the German fleet:

[A] victory is judged not merely by material losses and damage, but by its results. It is profitable to examine the results of the Jutland Battle. With the single exception of a cruise towards the English coast on August 19th, 1916—undertaken, no doubt, by such part of the High Sea Fleet as had been repaired in order to show that it was still capable of going to sea—the High Sea Fleet never again, up to the end of 1917, ventured much outside the “Heligoland triangle,” and even on August 19th, 1916, the much reduced Fleet made precipitately for home as soon as it was warned by its Zeppelin scouts of the approach of the Grand Fleet. This is hardly the method of procedure that would be adopted by a Fleet flushed with victory and belonging to a country which was being strangled by the sea blockade.

Historians now agree that not only was Jutland a strategic success for Britain, but it meant the end of the German surface fleet as a factor in the war.

For his services at Jutland, Jellicoe was given the thanks of Parliament and a grant of £50,000. He was named as First Sea Lord (operational head of the navy) at the end of 1916, replacing Sir Henry Jackson, but almost from the start of this command, he desired to be removed from it. On 24 December 1917, Prime Minister David Lloyd George removed Jellicoe, allegedly over his refusal to guard Allied shipping with British escorts. Raised to the peerage as Viscount Jellicoe of Scapa in 1918, he was given the post of governor-general of New Zealand following the end of the war, serving from 1920 to 1924. In his last years, Jellicoe wrote two volumes of memoirs: The Grand Fleet, 1914–16: Its Creation, Development and Work (1919) and The Crisis of the Naval War (1920). He died in London on 20 November 1935 and was laid to rest with full military honors near Lord Nelson in the crypt of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London.

References: Napier, Robert M., Sir John French and Sir John Jellicoe: Their Lives and Careers (London: The Patriotic Publishing Company, 1914); Jellicoe, Sir John, The Grand Fleet, 1914–16: Its Creation, Development and Work (New York: G. H. Doran, 1919); Terry, C. Sanford, The Battle of Jutland Bank, May 31–June 1, 1916: The Dispatches of Admiral Sir John Jellicoe and Vice-Admiral Sir David Beatty (London: Oxford University Press, 1916); Bruce, George, “Jutland,” in Collins Dictionary of Wars (Glasgow, Scotland: HarperCollins Publishers, 1995), 12–21; “Jellicoe,” in Command: From Alexander the Great to Zhukov—The Greatest Commanders of World History, edited by James Lucas (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 1988), 155–156.

English military commander

William Cavendish was born in 1592, the son of Sir Charles Cavendish and his wife Catherine, the daughter of Cuthbert, Lord Ogle. William attended St. John’s College, Cambridge University, and was made a Knight of the Order of Bath (KB) in 1610, when Prince Henry became the Prince of Wales. He served as an aide to Sir Henry Wotton, the ambassador to the duke of Savoy, and when he returned to England, he married Elizabeth Basset, daughter of William Basset of Blore. Cavendish became a close friend of Kings James I and Charles I, and he was ennobled as Viscount Mansfield in 1620 and as earl of Newcastle in 1628. In 1638, he was named as a governor (guardian) of Charles’s son, the Prince of Wales, and the following year he was made a privy councillor.

With the outbreak of the English Civil War between King Charles I and Parliament, Newcastle offered his services to the Crown. Charles sent him to take the city of Hull in January 1642, but the city fathers refused him admittance and he was forced to withdraw. He then led raids into the Northern cities and took York in late 1642. His actions were noted in a letter to the House of Commons: “The House of Commons having received a report, concerning the Earle of Newcastle, that the said Earle hath put in about 500 Men in Garrison, and that the said Earle is about to raise a Troope of Horse, and beats the Drum for Volunteers, the Trained Bands refuse to come in, foure pieces of Ordnance is gone towards South Sheels, Tinmouth, and there are 300 men in worke making a Sconce, to command all Ships, that in or goe out, the Towne is in greater perplexity then they were the last yeare, Ship-masters refuse to goe in, least their Ships be Staid.”

Starting in early 1643, a series of lightning-quick attacks by Newcastle’s forces captured the cities of Wakefield, Rotherham, and Sheffield. He defeated Lord Fairfax, a Parliamentarian general, at Adwalton Moor on 30 June 1643 and was able to march unmolested into parts of Lincolnshire, including the city of Lincoln. However, a part of his force was defeated by Oliver Cromwell at Winceby (11 October 1643), and Newcastle retreated to York. Surrounded by Fairfax and Lord Manchester, he was saved by Prince Rupert, who fought the battle of Marston Moor (2 July 1644) against Newcastle’s advice. Rupert’s army was devastated in the clash, and Newcastle was so distraught at the loss that he resigned his commission and sailed to Hamburg, Germany, eventually moving to Paris in April 1645. Three years later, he moved to Rotterdam, where he joined a group of those opposed to Parliament’s takeover of the English government. He then settled in Antwerp.

In 1650, Newcastle became a member of the Privy Council of Charles II, son of the executed Charles I. When Charles II was restored to the throne in 1660, Newcastle returned to England and was given back some of his lands and titles, although he had spent his entire personal fortune for the Royalist cause. Advanced to the title of duke of Newcastle in 1665, he retired from public life. He died at his home in Welbeck, Nottinghamshire, on 25 December 1676, and was laid to rest in Westminster Abbey. His son Henry succeeded to the dukedom of Newcastle, but upon his death, Henry having had no children, the title became extinct. The duke of Newcastle has since become one of the more obscure of Charles I’s commanders in the English Civil War, though he was always the king’s loyal supporter.

References: Trease, Geoffrey, Portrait of a Cavalier: William Cavendish, First Duke of Newcastle (New York: Taplinger Publishing Company, 1979); Newcastle, Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle, The Life of the Thrice Noble, High and Puissant William Cavendishe, Duke, Marquess, and Earl of Newcastle . . . (London: Printed by A. Maxwell, 1667); The Good and Prosperous Successe of the Parliaments Forces in York-Shire . . . (London: Printed for John Wright in the Old Bailey, 1642); True Newes from Yorke. Consisting of severall Matters of Note, and High Concernment, since the 13 of June, concerning these several heads, viz: Concerning 1. Sir Iohn Meldrum. 2. L. Marq. Hamilton. 3. Earle of Newcastle . . . (London, 1642).