Review: The Blue Book of the War, edited by Herbert Strang

The edition I read was reprinted in 1917, and I think originally came out late 1916 (preceding the revolution in Russia and collapse of the Eastern Front). I believe this book was aimed at older children (it’s a little similar in style to The Wonder Book of Aircraft). The mindset is fascinating and the writing engaging.

Most books about The Great War nowadays tend to conjure images of terrible grind, both in terms of trench warfare not moving very much, and in terms of immense grimness. And those things are not wrong. But they’re also not the complete story.

In the Middle East and Africa, things moved with greater pace, and the middle of the book is dedicated to stories of naval exploits, many of which I had no idea about (British submarines getting up to mischief in the Bosphorus, for example).

The mentality of the book is of another age, with the start of a battle described as an adventure beginning. There’s both a recognition of how terrible war is (quoted below) and a celebration of the human spirit that can arise in conflict.

Early on, the book is poignant (a letter home from a soldier the day before he got killed in one of the many large battles standing out in the memory). But the overriding sense is of a quite alien attitude to both Britain and war, the latter perhaps closer to Livy’s Romanesque glory than today’s immense reluctance. I was wondering if it would be a parochial book, yet one of the examples of heroism cited was of a priest who gave the last rites to an enemy soldier, and whilst there is some German-bashing there’s also praise for Turkish manoeuvres around Suez, Von Mackensen’s Eastern shenanigans, and the final chapter is dedicated to heroism from British allies (Frenchmen, Russians, and Italians singled out, with kudos also given to the Sikhs, Maoris, and others).

Must admit, I found the book to have a lively writing style, and yet was perhaps even more interesting from a psychological perspective. The differing topics of the various aspects of the naval conflict and doings further afield ensured that, whilst the focus is on Britain and her Empire, there is plenty about other arenas where our involvement was either minimal or non-existent.

I shall end this review with a few excerpts that I made note of as I read:

“War is a terrible, hideous thing.” [A short time later in the same paragraph]. “Yet there is something even more terrible than war, and that is the weak and cowardly acceptance of what we believe to be evil for the sake of saving our skins.”

“We shall not, therefore, be surprised when we learn that by far the greater part of British naval strength and resources has in the Great War been devoted to the efficient maintenance of its patrol services: and we may well wonder at the weakness of human nature which impels us to esteem a dashing exploit, carried through in, perhaps, a few minutes, more highly than we regard the faithful endurance of hardship and the vigilant discharge of duty continued for long, weary months amid the stress and perils of the northern seas.”

“Their brigade was lying in front of Gorizia and was much inconvenienced by the enemy’s fire from a particular hill that dominated their position – a hill so craggy, in fact, as to seem quite inaccessible.”

Thaddeus

Review: A History of the First World War, by BH Liddell Hart

A bit outside my usual area, but this military history seemed interesting, so I gave it a look. It charts the course of the war from beginning to end, including an introductory segment setting the scene.

Reminiscent of Dodge’s Napoleon biography (first volume), I actually found the political and military preamble to the war itself to be the most interesting part. Setting the scene with the Schlieffen plan and the varying states of readiness of the Great Powers was very nicely done.

The war was notable, amongst other things, for the rapid invention and development of new technology with battlefield implications. The radio, rail, aircraft, gas shells, and tanks were all either created for the first time, advanced swiftly or otherwise had great military significance. Machine guns had existed for a little while by this stage but this was the first war when they gave near total predominance to defence over attack (until the tank rolled up).

It was fascinating to read of how the Germans really could have won the war early on, but for Moltke buggering up the plan Schlieffen had put together some years earlier, denuding the powerful right of strength whilst reinforcing the centre.

I’ve read enough military history (admittedly, mostly classical) to know that some wars are notable for their brilliant strategy, and some are remarkable for surprising incompetence or plain bad luck. The latter was not unique to the First World War (we need only look for how the Romans repeatedly mishandled the Cimbri for evidence that strategic/tactical idiocy and generals infighting can endanger a national cause). World War One does have the slight mitigation that new technologies were not fully understood (aircraft could have been employed on a more aggressive basis, for example), and the exacerbating factor that the same mistakes were made repeatedly, at immense cost of human life.

The sheer numbers of people involved is also worthy of remark. Tens of thousands (or more) fell during the largest battles, millions of men lived in trenches.

I must admit I sometimes found things a little hard to follow, although the gist was never in doubt. (I maintain that military history is more interesting before the use of gunpowder became widespread). There is a good number of maps, with many chapters beginning with a map of the local situation. A nice addition, which was not present, would have been something along the lines of a trench cross-section or the odd diagram of a plane, machine gun or tank, but it would’ve been an extra rather than some necessary that is missing.

It should be firmly stressed that this is a military history, and politics, excepting the interesting preamble to war breaking out, is mentioned only in so far as it directly relates to the war. Russia vanishes after the revolution and peace is agreed between the Bolsheviks and Germany.

The author does comment on both military and moral failings of generals when it comes to mistakes made (some understandable, others perhaps less so), and also those of the ordinary soldier. Whilst rarer, instances of soldiers performing misdeeds (such as advancing well, then coming across quantities of alcohol and getting lashed as a ferret on Christmas Day) are mentioned. That said, the focus of the book is clearly on the military aspects, with morale (and morality) considered alongside ammunition, supply lines, and so forth as a military asset, or deficiency.

Overall, I found the book interesting, occasionally a bit tricky to follow. As I’ve said before, its sole interest is the military side of things, so those after something considering the political or social implications of the war will find it lacking. Those seeking to understand the strategic and tactical situation that unfolded from 1914 to 1918 will find it of significant use.

Thaddeus

Review: The Wonder Book of Aircraft

The Wonder Book of Aircraft is one of several older books that have been piled up, awaiting attention for some time. It was written in 1919, just over a decade and a half after the first powered flight, and a year after World War One came to an end.

It’s a book for children but easily the most adult (purely in the sense of maturity) children’s book I’ve ever read.

The writing style is completely grown-up, to the extent that if it hadn’t been specifically indicated as written for children I would never have guessed. It is also very of its time, both in assumed knowledge (parabola – a word every schoolboy knows) and general sentiment (there’s a picture of a German airship going down in flames with the caption “Just retribution”).

Mostly, this is rather engaging. It’s a charming, confident book filled with fairly simple but useful explanations of flight (there’s a strong leaning towards war machines which is natural given it came out right after the Great War), optimistic predictions for the future, the basics of aerodynamics, and a few daring stories of heroic deeds (some real, a few fiction stories). Also covered is a brief look at the history of attempted flight, airships, balloons, and how to make your own model planes.

The only bit that took me aback was the single instance, used in a story, of a term that today would definitely not be included in a children’s book (a six letter racial epithet).

The book is festooned with photographs, many from the air, and illustrations. Although the quality is naturally far less than that of cameras we have today, some photographs are nevertheless fantastic (I particularly enjoyed one showing a giant airship’s shadow alongside a steam engine). Whilst most images are of planes there are plenty of airships and balloons, as well as some other subjects (such as anti-aircraft guns).

Regular readers will be aware that this is not my usual sort of book, but I did find it fascinating nevertheless. With the exception of the model plane instruction (not my area at all) and the ‘old-fashioned’ language used on one occasion, it was thoroughly engaging and intelligently written. I tend not to write of F1 here, but the part on aerodynamics neatly applies (upside down, of course) to that motorsport, which was a nice bonus.

My own copy (a Christmas present to Ernest Wright in 1919 according to the handwritten note at the front) is in slightly tatty repair, but that didn’t stop me enjoying it a lot.

Thaddeus

Review: Some Desperate Glory, by Edwin Campion Vaughan

As a rule, modern history isn’t my thing, but I was given this book, a British soldier’s diary from 1917, as a gift.

The author is a junior officer entering the war (and the trenches) for the first time. As well as being an enthusiastic, likeable fellow, Edwin Campion Vaughan is also a very engaging writer.

From January to August, almost every day has an individual entry. There’s a natural descent from the excitement at the prospect of doing one’s bit into the horrendous reality of one of history’s worst wars.

The sudden eclipse of anticipation by panic and fear is matched only by the touching humanity of Vaughan and the nightmarish latter entries. There’s a peculiarly persistent decency throughout regarding his view of the Germans. When he marches past a dead German being chewed upon by a cat, he has it shooed away, and when returning the same way and finding the mog returned has it shot.

The sheer arbitrary nature of death in World War One is brought home right from the off (Vaughan narrowly escapes death at a sniper’s hand when he slips and falls over, a bullet flying where his head should’ve been). Shells exploded where they may, machine-guns and snipers ever on alert. It’s a stark contrast (and, counter-intuitively), far worse than the ancient warfare I usually read about, where the enemy is often several thousand strong, in an army and fought at close quarters. In the First World War, death could come at any moment without a real chance to protect oneself.

Amidst the terrible conditions and danger, there are lighter moments, and it’s heartening to see that Vaughan and his comrades managed to keep their spirits up despite the horrors of their day-to-day lives. The part of France in which he found himself has been wrecked by years of warfare, riddled with shattered villages and the land scarred by shell holes (handy for shelter, in a pinch).

I found it very engaging, poignant and incredibly sad. If you’re seeking an unvarnished description of life in the trenches, with all the woe, levity and human spirit it entailed, this is the book for you.

Thaddeus