World War I Books for Review

"Another splendid work of scholarship, beautifully written and brilliantly researched. There are few, if any, who know more about this topic than Dr. Linden, and this book will define the field for years to come." — Simon Shorvon, Professor of Neurology, University College London

Shell shock was the great leveller of post-war experience. Beyond the Great Silence:The Legacy of Shell Shock in Britain and Germany 1918-1924 traces the stories of shell-shocked soldiers and civilians. Medical authorities were reluctant to accept the link between illness and war and thus deprived shell shock victims not only of war pensions but also of a much-needed explanation for their suffering.

The rise of shell shock exemplifies the traumatic experience of the Great War. It has transcended its original meaning as a medical concept in historical and cultural discourse. Throughout the war military medicine of all combatant nations faced similar challenges and had to ensure the fighting strength of their forces in the face of increasing numbers of traumatized soldiers. Following the Armistice, the former Allied and Central Powers were in very different situations. Whereas London returned to a period of relative stability, Berlin was transformed into the chaotic center of a failed state. For the traumatized soldiers treated at the Berlin Charité or the London National Hospital, this did not make much of a difference – hospitals continued to operate in both capitols with surprising efficiency, and the trauma of war only knows victims, no victors. Beyond the suffering caused by shell shock, many veterans suffered further humiliation war pension denials because they had been relabeled with a neurological diagnosis that was unrelated to war service or were branded as ‘psychopaths’ with inherited mental weakness. The medical system was thus quick to cut the link between the illness of veterans and war experience. Therefore, many ex-servicemen were cut-off not only from pensions but also from an explanation for their suffering.

Beyond the Great Silence combines the personal experience of the traumatized military and civilian patients with contemporary medical literature and press reports to provide the cultural background for the varying presentations of shell shock and responses of medical professionals and wider society. Shell shock was a deeply political concept, and its history can only be understood against the backdrop of the revolutionary changes to European society in the immediate aftermath of war.

The story of how a young cavalry officer eager to serve his country became a pilot and then, when success beckoned, had his life taken over by a very skilled group of publicists, writers, photographers and artists.

It is more than a hundred years since Manfred von Richthofen, the ‘Red Baron’, was killed in combat on the Western Front. Yet this gallant fighter pilot is probably as well known today as he was his lifetime.

Beginning in 1916, when his lethal skills were first realized, his image proved a godsend to his country’s propaganda machine. There, far above the misery of life in the trenches, was a shooting star of unimaginable potency to help pacify a weary nation that was now beginning to believe that the war was no longer necessary or the losses justified. And so, an image of chivalry was conjured up and exploited with little regard of the cost of this to an increasingly war weary man.

Manfred von Richthofen: The Red Baron and the High Price of Glory draws on many sources, some previously untapped, including interviews with pilots he fought alongside and against, official documents held in collections around the world and the work of three noted Great War historians, two of whom began their work in the 1920s, all now dead but who left a rich legacy of research for us to explore. In addition, there are interviews with fifty or so pilots from the Second World War, who went through much that von Richthofen experienced above the Western Front and could speak with authority about the effects of continuous combat flying on aviators.

This is the story of how a young cavalry officer eager to serve his country became a pilot and then, when success beckoned, had his life taken over by a very skilled group of publicists, writers, photographers and artists. Every element of his life was picked over, dissected and revealed to an ever-growing and intrusive audience. If he had simply been a celebrity – royalty, an actor or politician – this attention might have been accepted, but he was a front line pilot daily courting death, leading many other men in a constant life or death struggle.

So here we have a man severely stressed by war, then stripped of his privacy and any opportunity to rest. Inevitably, some might say, he became another victim of a bloody war, but even in death the exploitation continued and was then re-awakened a decade or so later by the Nazi’s to help promote an even bloodier war.

A new assessment of the Battle of Passchendaele.

Passchendaele, also known as the Third Battle of Ypres, until in recent decades eclipsed by the Somme, stood as the representative image of First World War frightfulness and fruitless endeavor. Post-war memory of its myriad horrors arose from the dissemination of traumatic personal experience; the tradition of futility largely from the 1930s condemnation by military historian Basil Liddell Hart and, rather ironically, the Prime Minister who authorized it, David Lloyd George. The former wrote of it ‘so fruitless in its results, so depressing in its direction was [it] that Passchendaele has come to be … a synonym for military failure- a name black-bordered in the records of the British Army’.

The frightfulness has never been doubted. The first month, failing to achieve, or come near, the objectives set for the first day, and the last month, struggling to reach what was originally delineated as the first stage, took place in shocking conditions of rain and mud, sufficient to render difficult existence and movement, let alone fighting. Nor has the attempt by the Official Historian to claim the battle as largely successful engaged much traction or dented the impression of futility.

It is therefore unsurprising that historical writing on the subject gravitates toward the issue of responsibility: responsibility for fighting the battle at the time and in the place chosen, responsibility for the failure of the first month and responsibility for continuing the battle into November when it became clear that the original object of clearing the Belgian coast could not be achieved. Far From Suitable? Haig, Gough and Passchendaele: A Reappraisal is about responsibility for the failure of the first month and the relationship between the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Douglas Haig, and the man who bears the brunt of modern criticism, Sir Hubert Gough, the Commander of Fifth Army at Passchendaele.

Far From Suitable? is not a narrative history: it is a detailed examination of how and by whom the plans for the opening of the campaign were made; whether they were deficient, negligent or, as often alleged, reckless; and whether they caused needless loss. It further considers the conduct of the battle for the remainder of the first month’s fighting, up to the point where the primary role in the battle was transferred to General Sir Herbert Plumer at the end of August 1917.

Far From Suitable? challenges the account given in the Official History, in an attempt fairly to consider what happened, and why.

A significant new contribution to the underrepresented historiography of the British campaign in Italy during 1917-1918.

A Brilliant Little Victory is a history of the 48th (South Midland) during the First World War, including its successful defense of a critical position on the Asiago Plateau in June 1918. It charts the history of the division from establishment in 1908 to its initial deployment on the Western Front in March 1915. What followed was an introduction to the trenches at Ploegsteert Wood; participation in the Battle of the Somme where it assisted with the capture of Pozières in July–August 1916 and the pursuit of the German army to the Hindenburg Line the following spring.

The role of the South Midland Division during the Third Ypres offensive in late summer and autumn of 1917 is also chronicled. Following this, the division entrained for Italy where it was part of the Franco-British force dispatched to reinforce the Italian Army following the Caporetto disaster.

It was 48th Division’s successful defense of the tactically important Asiago Plateau high above the Lombardy Plain on 15 June 1918 that contributed to the defeat of Austro-Hungarian attackers attempting to break into the rear of the main Italian position on the Piave with potentially disastrous results. Despite fighting an effective defensive action, subsequently described by one officer as ‘a brilliant little victory’, the Divisional Commander, Major General Sir Robert Fanshawe, was sacked and sent home much to the dismay of officers and men. In seeking to understand what lay behind the shocking removal of an apparently successful commander, A Brilliant Little Victory provides a detailed analysis of the battle and factors that may have contributed to this sacking before offering a conclusion about whether or not it was, given the standards of the era, justified.