by Peter Hart
War brought massed crowds out in celebration on the streets of cities all across Europe. War was exciting, a break from the dull routine of the factory, the office, the mines and farms. It evoked strong notions of chivalry and national pride in the populations of all the belligerent nations. Underpinning this enthusiasm was the widespread conviction that the war would be relatively quick and painless; all nicely wrapped up with a crushing victory before Christmas. It is important to emphasise, however, that not everyone reacted with such jubilation and confidence: realists feared the catastrophic effect of war on society across Europe, and many socialist and workers’ groups had real concerns and doubts. There were even pacifists opposed to the very idea of war on religious or moral grounds. Yet, nevertheless, the clear majority of people across Europe undoubtedly welcomed war. As such they did not act as a brake to the machinations and posturing of their governments but cheered them on even as they collectively careered towards the horror of the Great War.
The German war plan envisaged a violent thrust through Belgium to push on into northern France, swinging round behind the main French armies to seize Paris and thereby secure victory at a stroke. Meanwhile, a defensive front would be established in the East to thwart any attempted advance of the Russian ‘steamroller’. The French Army had nurtured a blind faith in the powers of the offensive rather than its previous rather more pragmatic reliance on an immensely strong series of concrete forts, typified by those at Verdun, built to defend the Franco-German frontier. It would instead charge blindly forward into the ‘lost’ provinces of Alsace-Lorraine, forfeited in the aftermath of France’s humiliating defeat in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. The results were predictable as the French, dressed in the brightly coloured red and blue uniforms more attuned to another age of warfare, were duly slaughtered by the weapons of the twentieth century. By the end of 1914 the French had suffered an incredible 955,000 casualties.
As the French charged to their doom, the German columns were marching through Belgium and the almost undefended Franco-Belgian frontier. Here they encountered an unconsidered trifle—the BEF under the command of General Sir John French, which in accordance with mobilisation plans had moved up to Maubeuge to take its allotted place on the left of the French line. The British found themselves right in the path of the onrushing German juggernaut at the Battle of Mons on 23 August. In the succession of desperate defensive actions that followed as the British fell back into France, the quality of the British regulars seemed apparent, but their trusty Lee Enfield rifles could not stop the masses of well-trained German soldiers who were equally committed to the cause of their country. As the situation teetered in the balance the tiring Germans began to falter in their final approach to Paris, just as the French dredged up sufficient troops to launch a flanking thrust of their own and together with the BEF created the ‘miracle’ of the Marne. The Germans were forced back through France until they made a determined stand in swiftly dug trenches ranging along the easily defensible ridges behind the Aisne River.
The swirling, sidelong race to the sea followed as attempts were made by both sides to turn their opponents flank, bouncing and cannoning from each other in desperate encounter battles. There was much slaughter on both sides, but the battle for the key Belgian town of Ypres was fought with a particular intensity in mid-October. Ypres guarded the approach to the Channel ports, the linchpin of the BEF communications back to Britain. The German Army suffered grievous casualties at the Battle of Ypres, but at the same time the battle consumed the bulk of the original BEF. The British fought to the end and at the last gasp managed to hold back the Germans from a breakthrough that at one point seemed all but inevitable. Stalemate ensued and the trenches stretched in unbroken lines from Switzerland to the North Sea.
Trenches were not a new development. They had been used many times in warfare especially during the sieges of fortresses and cities. What made the problem so intense for the generals of both sides was the power of modern weapons acting in concert. Belts of barbed wire slowed the approach of attacking infantry to the trench and gave the defending troops ample opportunity to pour in rapid rifle and machine-gun fire from the relative safety of their own trenches. But the real difference lay in the destructive potential of massed modern artillery. Superficially it appeared to offer the opportunity to easily sweep away the barbed wire and trenches in a welter of shrapnel and high explosive. Yet both sides had artillery. If the defending batteries were not knocked out of action, then they would let loose a devastating fire of their own when the attacking infantry advanced into the open across No Man’s Land. Even if the front line was captured the support and reserve lines of trenches still stood in front of the attacking troops and the defending reserves would rush to counter-attack. Any kind of breakthrough was extremely difficult to achieve.
In 1915 both sides made attempts to break free from the constraints imposed on them by the lines of trenches, but the strategic imperative was clear: the Germans had possession of a large and economically invaluable tranche of France and Belgium. As this situation could not be allowed to continue, the French and their British Allies had to drive them out. The French launched numerous offensives and fought with a savage desperation to reclaim their homeland, but were held back by the brutal realities of trench warfare. The casualty lists grew, casting a black shadow over countless families across France. The British were also flexing their muscles as the BEF slowly began to grow in size. The first real attempt at a breakthrough was made by the First Army under the command of General Sir Douglas Haig at the Battle of Neuve Chapelle on 10 March 1915.
Douglas Haig was born on 19 June 1861. Educated at Clifton College and Brasenose College, Oxford, he entered the Royal Military College, Sandhurst as a cadet in 1884. Here he had found his vocation and applied his considerable intelligence and disciplined personality to mastering his chosen career. After service as a regimental officer with the 7th Hussars he went to the Staff College at Camberley in 1896 where he gained a theoretical understanding of war that coloured much of his subsequent career. His first real active service experience occurred in a typical colonial conflict as a staff officer in the Sudan in 1898. During the Boer War, Haig was given command of one of the many small columns trying to snuff out the Boer commandos. By this time Haig had been marked out as a very promising officer and he was soon rewarded with command of the 17th Lancers and appointment as the aide de camp to King Edward VII. His career then flourished. He was appointed first as Inspector General of Cavalry and then promoted major general and became Director of Military Training at the War Office. At this point Richard Haldane, the Liberal Secretary of State for War, was engaged in a thorough overhaul of the structure of the British Army. Haig was tasked with creating a new Territorial Army out of the mish-mash of part-time volunteer units that served as Britain’s second line.
Haig’s capacity for hard work and analytical abilities were much prized and the next mark of high approbation was his appointment as chief of staff in India. He struggled with the inherent problems in the Indian Army until he was rescued by another promotion to lieutenant general and made commander-in-chief at Aldershot in 1912—the home of the British Army. Here he was responsible for training and preparing the two divisions under his command ready to take up their wartime role as the I Corps within the BEE Haig had already developed a firm belief in some of the classic principles of war, which decreed that any conflict would go through several stages: the initial manoeuvring for position, the first clash of battle, then the wearing out process of indeterminate length before one side began to fold and the decisive stroke could then be struck home. This conviction would endure throughout the war but his somewhat naive early belief that the power of ‘the spirit’ could overcome an inferiority of numbers, arms or training would soon wither from exposure to harsh reality. Haig also believed that any decision, even if misguided, was better than indecision and that a bad plan resolutely pursued was better than a good plan that was not pushed through vigorously
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Haig took his I Corps across to France and into Belgium where it played a full part in the open warfare of the 1914 campaign. He drew a key lesson from his personal experiences in the First Battle of Ypres in October 1914, where he was convinced that the day would have been lost had the Germans only persevered in their attacks a little while longer. This was to colour much of his subsequent thinking about the merits of hammering on in battle, in the hope and expectation of finally triggering the sudden collapse of a staggering enemy and thereby capitalising on all the hard fighting and sacrifices already invested. As the BEF expanded he was promoted to full general in command of the First Army made up of the IV and Indian Corps in December 1914. Now he was charged with the overall responsibility of attempting to pinch out the German salient that jutted into the British line at the village of Neuve Chapelle. His subordinate, General Sir Henry Rawlinson as the commander of the IV Corps, was charged with the task of drawing up the actual battle plans.
Henry Rawlinson was a highly respected professional officer who had a distinguished military career. Born on 20 February 1864, he was the privileged son of a diplomat. Educated at Eton he was soon destined for the army and passed through the Royal Military College, Sandhurst before serving in India for much of his early career. As a young officer he amassed useful experience in colonial campaigns in the Myanmar expedition, chasing dacoits in Burma during 1886–7. Following these adventures he returned to Britain and passed through Staff College. As a staff officer he served under Lord Kitchener in the successful Sudan campaign of 1898. When the Boer War broke out in 1899 he was caught up in the disastrous start to the campaign and besieged in Ladysmith until it was finally relieved in the spring of 1900. Afterwards he served both on the staff and in command of independent columns of troops trying to hunt down the Boer commandos. His reputation was enhanced by these episodes and on his return once more to England he was given various prestigious appointments, including commandant of the Staff College, before being given command of an infantry brigade and then a division at Aldershot. On the outbreak of war, Rawlinson was given command first of the 4th Division operating on the Aisne in September 1914, and then of the makeshift IV Corps, which was sent to assist the Belgian Army in the doomed campaign to save Antwerp in October 1914. The Corps subsequently joined the main body of the army just in time for the First Battle of Ypres.
For the battle of Neuve Chapelle, Rawlinson and his headquarters staff had under their command the 7th and 8th Divisions that together made up the IV Corps. In planning to pinch out the Neuve Chapelle salient they conceived of a revolutionary new plan to use the power of massed artillery to smash a way through for his men into the German lines. In this he was certainly ahead of many of his fellow generals of the time. He summed up his views pithily: ‘It is primarily an artillery operation and if the artillery cannot crush and demoralise the enemy’s infantry by their fire effect the enterprise will not succeed.’2 It is ironic that in this, the first major British offensive against the German lines, so much was done in accordance with what would become accepted as ‘best practice’ in the last two years of the war. A concentration of some 340 guns along the 2,000 yards frontage of the assaulting TV and Indian Corps meant that there was a ration of one gun for every 6 yards of the front attacked. Even more impressively in view of the difficulty in moving heavy guns this was all achieved without significantly alerting the Germans. Then a crushing hurricane-style short bombardment flayed the barbed wire and smashed down the relatively weak German defences. Photographs and artillery observation carried out by the Royal Flying Corps were used to direct the power of the massed guns to maximum effect.
Yet for all the innovations the battle was still a painful experience for the British Army. Although the ruined village of Neuve Chapelle was duly captured and the line straightened, the attempts made to try and push on to the next raft of objectives proved painfully expensive against the massed German reinforcements who rushed to the scene. Rawlinson had always been of the opinion that the attack should be suspended after the capture of the immediate localised objective of Neuve Chapelle, but when ordered by Haig to try and achieve more for the massive investment of men and materials he swallowed his objections and pressed home the attacks with every appearance of enthusiasm. However, a breakthrough on such an easily plugged narrow front was impossible and in the end the First Army suffered 11,652 casualties. A pattern of behaviour had been established between Haig and Rawlinson that both would repeat time and time again on the Somme.
Rawlinson was a man of considerable intelligence who had already divined the holy grail of successful generalship on the Western Front in 1916—don’t aim too high.
What we want to do now is what I call, ‘bite and hold’. Bite off a piece of the enemy’s line, like Neuve Chapelle, and hold it against counterattack. The bite can be made without much loss, and, if we choose the right place and make every preparation to put it quickly in a state of defence, there ought to be no difficulty in holding it against the enemy’s counter-attacks and inflicting on him at least twice the loss that we have suffered in making the bite.3
Lieutenant General Sir Henry Rawlinson, Headquarters, Forth Army
Of course, this was simply not possible in 1915. There was a lack of guns and ammunition to carry out the pulverising bombardments on a sufficient scale. The other problem for Rawlinson was that this slow step-by-step process did not appeal to the prevailing mood of the British and French senior command. General Sir John French and General Joseph Joffre were determined to finish the war in 1915 and thus constitutionally disinclined to take a longer more painstaking route to success.
It is also sadly true that although Rawlinson seemed to have intuitively grasped the essence of ‘bite and hold’ he did not himself adhere to its principles in action if pressed forward by his seniors. At the attack on Aubers Ridge on 8 May 1915 there was not only slightly less artillery per yard of front than at Neuve Chapelle (one for every 8 yards) but the bombardment also included all three trench lines. This left the German front line receiving far fewer shells and introduced the very real possibility that the British would never get across No Man’s Land. This is precisely what happened. The almost intact German garrison simply manned their machine guns and shot the advancing battalions to pieces resulting in over 11,000 casualties to no practical gain whatsoever.
By the time of the Battle of Loos in September 1915, Haig had three corps in his First Army. The opening assault would be made by Rawlinson’s IV Corps fighting alongside the I Corps commanded by Lieutenant General Sir Hubert Gough, whom Haig considered an extremely promising officer. Hubert Gough was born in Ireland on 12 August 1870. He attended Eton before passing through Sandhurst and undergoing a lengthy stint as a regimental officer with the 16th Lancers in India from 1890, which culminated in an attachment to the Tirah expedition on the North West Frontier in 1897–8. He then attended Staff College in 1899. During the Boer War he saw considerable active service and marked himself out as a thrusting young officer in command of a composite cavalry regiment acting as a mobile column. Disaster, however, claimed him when he boldly attacked a party of some 200 Boers, who turned out to be only a detachment from a much larger grouping of about 1,000 Boers in the valley of the aptly named Blood River on 17 September 1901. As a result Gough and most of his men were first surrounded and then captured. It took all his considerable initiative to conceal his identity from the naturally inquisitive Boers and then to escape. He continued to lead his mobile column until he was finally wounded in the hand and arm in a skirmish and sent home to recuperate.
Gough served from 1903 to 1906 on the directing staff of the Staff College, which was then under the command of Rawlinson. A period in command of his old regiment followed from 1907 to 1910 and he soon established close links with Haig, who was at that time also the Inspector General of Cavalry in his other capacity as Director of Military Training. In 1911 Gough was promoted to command the 3rd Cavalry Brigade based at Curragh Camp in Ireland
. This nearly destabilised his entire career for the Irishman in him surfaced when he became involved in the Curragh incident in March 1914, threatening to resign rather than suppress Unionist opposition to the Liberal government’s proposed Home Rule Bill. The affair burnt out quickly though his career may well have suffered but for the shortage of experienced officers on the outbreak of war a few months later. Gough was quickly promoted to command first the 2nd Cavalry Division, with whom he fought at the First Battle of Ypres, and then the 7th Division in April 1915. His next promotion to lieutenant general was startlingly quick. He was given command of the I Army Corps within Haig’s First Army. The Battle of Loos would be his first great test as a corps commander.
It was a daunting prospect that faced these commanders. The British Army was still cripplingly short of guns and ammunition. Yet Sir John French had no choice but to order Haig to attack, for Joffre was adamant that the British must attack in strength on the widest possible front as part of the overall plan for a huge French autumn offensive in the Champagne and Artois regions. In their turn Rawlinson and Gough were chivvied on by Haig. A decision was made to use clouds of poisonous gas to make up for the shortfall of guns. The Germans had used a surprise gas attack earlier in the year on 22 April to launch the Second Battle of Ypres—they had nearly broken through when the arrival of British reserves managed at the last gasp to seal the line just short of Ypres itself. Rawlinson remained generally pessimistic as to the chances of any real success. There simply were not enough guns, shells or men for the scale of attack that was being undertaken. The I and IV Corps between them had just 533 guns facing an 11,200-yard front, which included two strong German trench lines covered by thick belts of barbed wire.
