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There are six main points regarding the BEF and its opponents in 1918 that emerge from this study. First, in regard to the question of command. The battles of Passchendaele and Cambrai revealed a paralysis within the BEF’s command structure, not only at the GHQ level, but also between the command levels of army, corps and division. Turning to 1918, it also appears that Haig and his GHQ did not anticipate German tactics in the first four or five months of 1918, and did not have a critical influence on the victory in the last 100 days of the war. In fact it can be argued that in the second half of 1918, Haig and the senior staff at GHQ lost power to the army commanders, and retained only a symbolic form of leadership. Second, that the hasty BEF retreat as a result of the German March offensive was not primarily because of poor defences, inferior numbers, mist, surprise, lack of labour, or any of the other arguments put forward by GHQ at the time, and subsequently, by historians. Instead the retreat was largely due to the inability of GHQ and the BEF to understand and adapt to the new defence in depth concept. Third, that the German army was really defeated by the summer of 1918. This was due partly to the cumulative effects of wearing out the German army from 1914 to 1917, and partly to the desperate efforts of the BEF in bringing the German 1918 offensives to a halt. But it can also be argued that to a considerable extent the German army defeated itself through its own offensives from March to July, because these offensives led to excessive casualties due to poor tactics, and because the OHL employed an unwise strategy that did not maintain its objectives. German morale also suffered a crippling blow in spring and summer 1918 because of heightened expectations from these ‘peace offensives’ that were not fulfilled. This defeat was hammered home by the French counter-attack of 18 July and the Amiens offensive of 8 August, followed by the constant attacks and mobile warfare of late August, September and October. Fourth, that there was a viable mechanical alternative to the more traditional forms of warfare in 1918. This alternative faded away in the BEF at the end of August 1918 in favour of manpower-oriented and semi-traditional forms of warfare. Fifth, that the doctrine and tactics of the BEF in 1918 did not develop toward a real combination of all arms, although there was much effort in that direction. Instead, GHQ emphasized an infantry-centred army, with all other arms acting as auxiliaries to the infantry. In fact, the tactics of midto late 1918, after Amiens, were really traditional, or semi-traditional, with the artillery predominating. In reality, it was the use of large amounts of traditional and semi-traditional technology, plus attrition, that really ended the war. Sixth, and paradoxically, in terms of BEF casualties the war did not start to wind down in August 1918. Approximately as many BEF casualties were incurred in attacking the weakened and demoralized German army from August to November 1918, as there were casualties in defending against the German offensives of March to May 1918. It is also the case that 1918 was much more deadly in casualties than 1917, despite Passchendaele.
First, then, the battles of Passchendaele and Cambrai showed a paralysis of command at certain key points—the planning of Passchendaele; the continuation of the battles of Passchendaele and Cambrai longer than was rational—that is, when useful and attainable objectives were no longer available; the muddled exploitation phase of Cambrai; and the failure to anticipate the German counter-attack after Cambrai. Essentially, the BEF command structure at the top (GHQ) prevented the free flow of information. It was a ‘top-down’ system that paralysed open discussion, made innovation difficult and allowed faulty decisions to stand when subordinates knew of serious problems. It was, in fact, a system that contained within itself its own ‘pathways to misfortune’, as a recent book has argued.1 Turning next to the vexed question of the leadership of Haig and GHQ. Did this leadership improve in 1918? For those supporters of Haig and his most senior staff at GHQ, the last 100 days of the war have represented a final triumph and vindication, balancing the criticisms of 1916 and 1917. Yet it cannot be said that such key figures at GHQ as Haig, Lawrence, Butler, Davidson and Dawnay significantly improved their understanding of mechanical warfare or the new tactics, rather, the wearing out of the German army of late 1918 really reflected what Haig and some at GHQ had already been doing in late 1916 and again in 1917. Tactically, Haig and the very senior staff at GHQ always appeared to be looking backward, with the exception of Maxse as Inspector General of Training, whose new manual on platoon training superseded the old Infantry Training 1914 only in May 1918.2 But, despite Maxse, armies, corps and divisions in mid-to late 1918 all essentially produced their own ideas and tactics. Moreover, when called upon to adopt an unfamiliar defensive role in March 1918, Haig and GHQ failed to coordinate or understand the new defence in depth doctrine, and were taken by surprise by the nature of the German offensive, despite the example of the German counter-attack after Cambrai.
On the positive side, Haig did give effective army commanders such as Rawlinson, and good corps commanders such as Currie, Haldane and the Australian, Monash, greater freedom to innovate in mid-to late 1918. Yet this freedom was such that one can argue that Haig came increasingly under the influence of his army commanders, especially Rawlinson. For example, Rawlinson would propose an attack, and Haig would agree, as on 16 July 1918, when Rawlinson suggested the Amiens offensive to Haig, and the next day, 17 July, Haig sent the suggestion on to Foch; or on 14 August 1918, when Rawlinson proposed a joint Third and Fourth Army attack, and the discontinuation of the Amiens offensive, and Haig agreed ‘without a murmur’; or Rawlinson would complain about a corps commander (Butler), and two days later, he was removed; or Rawlinson would simply tell the CGS (Lawrence) of his plans for an attack, and Lawrence ‘quite approved and will issue an order on the subject’. Haig and the senior staff at GHQ still officially ran the war on the Western Front, and still appeared distant, overbearing and out of touch to some, but they could not operate as freely and as independently as they had done in 1916 and 1917. In fact it sometimes appeared in 1918 that Haig’s command of the BEF had achieved a certain symbolic quality, while power in the BEF continued to shift to the army commanders, in particular to the experienced Rawlinson. Even a younger army commander such as Gough was reportedly super-critical of orders from above, and sneered at GHQ. Hence, it was often said that GHQ spoke of the army commanders as the ‘Wicked Barons’ and left them alone to direct their armies without GHQ’s guidance. Indeed a fanciful poem composed at GHQ some time in 1918, and entitled ‘If, suggests this situation in one of its verses:
If you can bear to see the orders given, Thwarted each time by pitiful appeals, And watch unheard the work for which you’ve striven, Washed out because the pampered ‘Baron’ squeals…3
In the area of strategy, Haig’s leadership was shaken by the prolonged 1917 Passchendaele offensive, by the German counter-attack after Cambrai, and then by GHQ’s poor showing in the German March offensive. Haig was, in fact, very lucky to survive as Commander-in-Chief of the BEF, even if his position was now subordinated to that of Foch as Allied Commander-in-Chief. Foch himself was not a deep thinker, and his constant desire for offensive action in mid- to late 1918, enshrined in the phrase ‘Tout le monde a la bataille!’ was not especially clever. J.F.C.Fuller noted Foch’s three axioms regarding defensive warfare earlier in 1918, which were: no retirement without fighting, no relief of divisions during battle, and we must do what we can do; and justly remarked ‘I do not consider any of these as particularly brilliant.’ Nevertheless, Foch did develop the concept of the sequential offensives of late August and September, and his style of constant attack did fortunately coincide with the requirements of the time, In contrast, Haig did not really contribute to strategy in mid- to late 1918, apart from refusing to follow some of Foch’s more foolishly conceived aggressive plans, such as the desire to keep on attacking after 14 August. Instead Haig basically agreed to the ideas of his army commanders; permitted straight ahead, and often narrow-fronted, attacks, in August, September and October; and by the beginning of October basically handed over command to his army commanders. It has been argued that Haig did at least switch Foch to considering a more concentric-style offensive at the end of August by shifting the American attack from the St Mihiel salient to an attack toward Mezières, which would converge with the BEF advance toward Cambrai and St Quentin. This is correct, although the St Mihiel assault did go ahead, while the considerable distance between the American divisions aiming toward Mezières, and those heading toward Cambrai and St Quentin, was such that convergence was doubtful. However, Haig did make one very useful contribution to the ultimate victory, which was to believe in results in 1918 rather than in 1919, which proved to be a more accurate prediction than those in the War Cabinet or the War Office.4
Secondly, close attention to the events of March 1918 as outlined in chapter 3 shows that the BEF’s rapid retreat was really caused by a poorly understood and poorly organized BEF defensive system, and a lack of appreciation for the changing offensive ideas of the German army as experienced in the Cambrai counter-attack. The responsibility for this lack of foresight rested entirely with GHQ, and resulted in a GHQ that in late March and April had largely lost control of the situation. In early April Haig still did not know why the line of the Somme River had not been defended during the first days of the ‘Michael’ offensive, but by 29 March he was already assembling explanations for H.M. the King—too few men, too many Germans, too much line, no support from the French.5 This and subsequent arguments adducing other external factors tend to overlook pre-offensive GHQ optimism and satisfaction. There was also the problem of an inflexible command structure in the BEF—the ‘top-down’ system already mentioned. Once the retreat began, this system actually exacerbated and hastened the British retreat, turning it frequently into a rout because of panic or uneasiness at the army, corps and sometimes division command level. Both in attack in 1917, and in retreat in 1918, the inflexibility of the system made adaptation to changing styles of warfare more difficult than was necessary. Another significant story also relates to the Pétain-Haig discussions of 23 and 24 March, where it is now possible to see that the very real crisis of those two days was created not so much by Pétain, as by the possibility of the BEF retreating to the Channel ports, and at the very least the burden of responsibility should be shared by Haig as well as by Pétain.
Yet, thirdly, the BEF did stop the German advance on 28 March, mainly through machine gun defences rather than the artillery. In addition, the German offensive was poorly conducted and resulted in heavy German casualties. A German staff officer in Seventeenth Army Intelligence later said that:
German casualties on the 28th March were very heavy, and it was recognised that the attack was a complete failure. He attributes the failure largely to the excellence of our Machine Gun defence… being very well disposed in depth and doing great damage to the attacking troops. He states that the casualties suffered from Artillery on that day were slight.
It also appears that Seventeenth Army divisions lost one third of their strength during Operation ‘Michael’, and subsequent German losses of around 1 million from March to July effectively destroyed the German army. In the end German casualties were so heavy, and the loss of morale so decisive as a result of the German 1918 spring and summer offensives, that the German army started to disintegrate in mid-July, and this was the real turning point of 1918.6 Contrary therefore to most historians who emphasize the last 100 days, it is now necessary to acknowledge that the decisive events of 1918 were not so much the last months of the war, but the 115 days between 21 March and 15 July.
Fourthly, the possibility of mechanical warfare turned out to be a genuine alternative in 1918. Cambrai, Hamel and Amiens showed what could be done, but the transition to more mobile warfare; the manpower shortage; the inclinations of Haig, GHQ and some senior commanders; and the combination of tank losses and slow tank production; all produced a reversion to traditional warfare at the end of August 1918. Nevertheless, tanks were available, and there was the option of hoarding tanks, and then launching other mass tank-artillery-infantry surprise offensives after August. Whether this would have ended the war earlier is a matter of opinion, but it is probable that lives would have been saved. It can be seen, therefore, that the BEF really conducted two kinds of warfare in the second half of 1918: first, mechanical warfare in July and August; and secondly, traditional or semi-traditional open warfare, from the end of August to the Armistice. Yet the fact that large-scale mechanical attacks did not take place in the last months, while the war was actually won by means that were familiar to most officers, did strongly influence the way that mechanization and mechanical warfare were debated in the 1920s and 1930s. It is important, however, to note that this debate did not actually start after the war, but in fact commenced in late 1917 and early 1918, when some soldiers and politicians thought they saw for the first time a realistic mechanical alternative to the manpower-devouring warfare of the Western Front.7
Fifthly, Edmonds, the official historian, stated that attrition and tactical success were the key factors in late 1918, and he was not so far wrong in view of German casualty figures, and the fact that the recent drafts of men to the BEF were inexperienced, and suffered heavy losses themselves. It is also the case that certain units, such as the Australian and Canadian Corps, had developed improved mobile tactics by 1918. On the other hand, tactics in the BEF really evolved within a traditional infantry-artillery structure, and what actually changed in 1918 was not so much the tactics but the application of ever-increasing and improved amounts of traditional and semi-traditional technology. More and more artillery, longer-range artillery shells, Lewis guns, machine guns, trench mortars, contact fuses, gas and smoke shells, all simply wore down the German army. Hence it is not surprising to learn that the greatest expenditure of artillery shells over 24 hours in the BEF during the war was not at the Somme or Passchendaele, but between 28 and 29 September 1918, when 945,052 rounds were fired. Technology and wearing down the enemy much more than improved tactics made the difference in 1918.8
Technology was also more important than tactics when it came to the combination of arms. Despite efforts at attaching officers to different arms in 1918 to learn how others lived, the combination of arms did not become a reality, as the experience, for example, of the 2nd Battalion, the Royal Welch Fusiliers, demonstrates. In the case of this battalion, cooperation with the tanks occasionally proved disastrous. Sometimes the BEF produced well-coordinated attacks, as at Cambrai, Hamel and Amiens, but more often than not it was a question of massive amounts of technology supporting often poorly trained and weary troops in set-piece attacks. Then in late 1918, the BEF simply pushed forward in traditional infantry and artillery attacks against German units until they gave way, and the process was repeated. Partly this difficulty of combining all the arms was the old problem of trying to fight and learn at the same time, but partly it was because GHQ did not get a grip of affairs, and ultimately encouraged the infantry to think of themselves as the centrepiece of war. In the first half of 1918, GHQ simply did not try to assert a doctrine. In the second half of 1918, Dawnay and Maxse attempted to put together some ideas, but in Dawnay’s case they were largely traditional, and anyway by then it was too late, since the BEF was now advancing according to individual ideas at army, corps and division level. Hence, each arm really operated separately, although trying to assist the other arms. It was therefore hard for the postwar army to draw progressive lessons from the last 100 days.9
Finally, sixthly, it is perhaps also time to reconsider Haig’s Western Front strategy. Given that the break in German morale of July 1918 was obviously prepared by the wearing down of the previous years, therefore Haig’s policy of wearing out the German army before launching the decisive offensive, seems to have actually worked. There were less costly ways of winning the war, for example, Messines, Cambrai and Amiens, and the Somme and Passchendaele offensives were marked by very serious high command errors, yet the net result was a victory in 1918. But this was a victory at high cost, even in comparison with 1917. For example, the BEF suffered 271,000 casualties during the bloody Passchendaele offensive, from 31 July to mid-November 1917, yet incomplete figures for a comparable period the next year, 7 August to 11 November 1918, reveal the much larger figure of 314,200 BEF casualties. Figures for the Canadian Corps are even more startling: while this corps lost 29,725 men during the period August to November 1917 inclusive when it was involved in the Passchendaele offensive, the losses for the period August to November 1918 inclusive, were very much higher at 49,152. Certain aspects of the Canadian casualty figures also suggest that warfare in 1918 was different than in previous years. Thus, other ranks listed as missing as a percentage of overall casualties reveal figures of 9.05 per cent for the Somme, 6.23 per cent for Passchendaele, and only 3.04 per cent for the last 100 days in 1918. This possibly suggests higher morale in 1918, or that war was more deadly in that the soldier was more likely to be killed or wounded than be captured in 1918. These ideas are supported by Canadian figures for officer casualties as a percentage of overall casualties, which give 4.07 per cent for the Somme, 3.86 per cent for Passchendaele, and 5.15 per cent for the last 100 days. This again suggests that morale may have been higher in 1918, and certainly that war was more deadly for officers in the mobile operations in the second half of 1918. What in fact was happening was that the BEF was attacking almost continuously from late August to November 1918 in traditional ways, thus generating higher BEF casualty figures, while at the same time the German army, despite its weakened state, was defending skilfully with machine guns and artillery rather than with men—a technological defence in depth.10 Mechanical warfare had the potential to save lives in the last one hundred days, but neither the traditional nor the mechanical option would have been simple—as Brigadier General Tudor remarked in his diary on 11 November 1918, the German army had contested every mile of the advance of his division, and his infantry had suffered 30 per cent casualties since the attack started in October.11
The two main themes in this story have been command and technology. In regard to the high command at GHQ, the picture in 1918 was not always a positive one. There was the March 1918 miscalculation and retreat, the foot-dragging over the mechanical option and the turn away from mechanical warfare, the reversion to the costly traditional or semi-traditional warfare, and finally the increasing irrelevance of the top brass at GHQ in the last five months of the war. All of this requires that the traditional historical view of the triumph of Haig and GHQ over the last 100 days has to be tempered with reservations. On the other hand, it cannot be denied that Haig’s wearing-down strategy finally did wear out the German army. Turning to technology—this aspect was a two-edged sword. On the one hand, it was the very large amounts of traditional or semi-traditional technology that ended the war, together with the wearing down of the previous years, but on the other hand, the devaluation of mechanical warfare, and the fact that Plan 1919 never happened, diverted attention away from the newer forms of technology. It is probable that this evolution of events had an important impact on the structure of the next BEF in France in 1940.
The BEF and its allies had won the war in 1918. Through determination, technology, wearing down, sacrifice, and German strategic and tactical errors, the enemy had finally been conquered. One senses that a page had now been turned in the history of the British Army: the older generation of senior officers had conducted the war according to their inherited traditions and experience of small-scale nineteenth-century wars. As Brigadier General Ironside argued, many of these senior officers had been promoted beyond their abilities.12 Now a younger generation of officers would have to use their experience of First World War styles of warfare to conduct another technological war some twenty years later.
1 These ‘pathways’ were obstructions within the decision-making system, according to Eliot Cohen and John Gooch, Military Misfortunes: The Anatomy of Failure in War (New York: 1990), pp. 23, 46, 54 and passim.
2 It was in May 1918 that Siegfried Sassoon, as a junior officer, found Maxse’s new manual ‘a masterpiece of common sense, clearness and condensation’, Siegfried Sassoon, Sherston’s Progress (London: Faber paperback edn, 1983), pp. 105–6.
3 Rawlinson, Diary, 16 July 1918 (for Amiens proposal), 14 and 15 August 1918 (for discontinuation of Amiens and new area of attack), 17 August 1918 (for Haig agreeing to postponement of attack), 5 September 1918 (for getting another corps from GHQ, and overruling Lawrence as to which one it would be!), 17 and 22 September 1918 (for the dismissal of Butler), 28 October 1918 (for Lawrence’s approval of attack); Rawlinson Papers, Churchill College, Cambridge (hereafter CCC). See Ferdinand Foch, The Memoirs of Marshal Foch (New York: 1931), p. 376, for Haig writing on 17 July to Foch regarding Amiens. Maxse was reportedly ‘very clear about the ignorance and out of touch [sic] of GHQ’, cited in Wilson, Diary, on 10 August 1918, Wilson Papers, Imperial War Museum (hereafter IWM). On the other hand, Major General Dawnay (MGGS Organization, GHQ) held meetings with army, corps and division commanders to explain GHQ policies and listen to complaints, Dawnay to wife, 16 June 1918, 9 July 1918, 12 July 1918, 69/21/3, Dawnay Papers, IWM. For the power of the army commanders see Gough to Maxse, 14 September 1918, 441, Maxse Papers, West Sussex Record Office, Chichester (hereafter WSRO); Maurice to Robertson, 16 April 1918, 1/25/1a, Robertson Papers, King’s College, London (hereafter KCL); Liddell Hart, ‘Talk with Lloyd George and Gough’, 27 January 1936, 11/1936/31, Liddell Hart Papers, KCL; and Tim Travers, ‘A particular style of command: Haig and GHQ, 1916–1918’, Journal of Strategic Studies 10, 3, September 1987, pp. 373–4. Poem entitled ‘If composed perhaps by Major General Bonham-Carter, in 1/12, Rawlinson Papers, CCC. On Gough, see Brigadier General Ironside, Diary, 29 November 1936, vol. 3, 1936, Diary in possession of Professor W.Wark, University of Toronto.
4 J.F.C.Fuller, Diary, 11 June 1918, Fuller Papers, Tank Museum, Bovington (hereafter TMB). For complaints about narrow-fronted attacks, Haldane, Diary, 11 September 1918, 16 October 1918, 21 October 1918, Haldane Papers, National Library of Scotland (hereafter NLS); and criticism of frontal assaults, James Edmonds, History of the Great War: Military Operations, France and Belgium, 1918:8 August-26 September. The Franco-British Offensive (London: 1947), vol. 4, p. 515. On Haig and Mezières, John Terraine, To Win a War, 1918. The Year of Victory (London: 1978), pp. 131–2.
5 Haig, Diary, 29 March 1918, Haig Papers, NLS; see also Wilson, Diary, 3 April 1918, 6 May 1918, Wilson Papers, IWM. For GHQ’s loss of control, inter alia, correspondence between Robertson and Maurice in April 1918, 1/ 25, Robertson Papers, KCL; and Wilson to Maxse, 7 April 1918, 502, Maxse Papers, WSRO.
6 Notes on the conversation with Ober-Leutnant Graf von Haugwitz’, File 13, Lindsay Papers, TMB. Wilhelm Deist, ‘Der militarische Zusammenbruch des Kaiserreichs. Zur Realitat der “Dolchstofslegende” ’, in Ursula Buttner (ed.), Das Unrechts-Regime (Hamburg: 1986), pp. 111, 117, 118.
7 cf. Harold Winton, To Change an Army: General Sir John Burnett-Stuart and British Armored Doctrine, 1927–1938 (Lawrence, Kans: 1988), pp. 1–2, 13 ff.
8 James Edmonds, History of the Great War: Military Operations, France and Belgium, 1918:26 September-11 November. The Advance to Victory (London: 1947), vol. 5, p. 587. The Rawlins Papers make it clear how much the BEF’s artillery dominated that of the German army in 1918, ‘Report’, 1919; and MGRA Fifth Army to GHQ, 14 September 1918; MD 1162, Rawlins Papers, Royal Artillery Institution (hereafter RAI). On expenditure of artillery ammunition, Colonel Anstey, ‘Guns and ammunition’, 5 December 1923, File
10, Anstey Papers, MD 1159, RAI. Also in the Anstey Papers is a series of letters from Birch, MGRA at GHQ, to the MGO, Furse, showing how effective the artillery had become when new streamlined shells increased howitzer ranges, when the 106 fuse was widely available, when counter-battery work on the move was mastered and when gas shells became available in large numbers; letters to and from Birch, File 7, Anstey Papers, MD 1159, RAI.
9 For attachment of officers, John Nettleton, The Anger of the Guns (London: 1979), p. 163. For the Royal Welch Fusiliers, J.C.Dunn (ed.), The War the Infantry Knew (London: 1938, 1987), pp. 550–3.
10 Edmonds, Military Operations…Advance to Victory, vol. 5, pp. 562, 584. Canadian casualty figures are in File GAQ 11–5, vol. 1844, RG 24, Public Archives, Ottawa, Canada (hereafter PAC).
11 Brigadier General H.H.Tudor, Diary, 11 November 1918, MD 1167, RAI.
12 Brigadier General Ironside, Diary, 30 November 1936, vol. 3, 1936, Diary in possession of Professor W.Wark, University of Toronto. See also Brian Bond, British Military Police Between the Two World Wars (Oxford: 1980), chapters 1–2.
Compare this:-
Command and Technology in the British Army on the Western Front, 1917–1918
By Tim Travers
With this:-
MONASH: THE OUTSIDER WHO WON A WAR
By Roland Perry
‘And ultimately the Hindenburg line was broken by concerted Allied action. Moreover, Perry’s insistence that Allied battle planning in 1918 was fundamentally supplied by Monash is unconvincing.
Perry ignores recent historians – British, Australian and Canadian – and trusts almost entirely Monash’s self-interested and/or myopic accounts of his own performance and significance. Denis Winter comments in Haig’s Command (1991) that 90 per cent of the 150 boxes of material on military operations gathered by Monash and his very detailed private diaries appear to be missing. These are the very sources being employed to study British command: Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson (Command on the Western Front, 1992), Paddy Griffith (Battle Tactics of the Western Front, 1994) and Gary Sheffield (Forgotten Victory: The First World War: Myths and Realities, 2001) to name a few.
Readers who cling to the simplistic view that British commanders in World War I were bunglers and butchers will find comfort in the hoary old story of Allied infantry as “lions led by donkeys”, a story now retold with Monash instructing the donkeys how to win a war. Others, I fear, will recognise another example of what Robert Rhodes James called “a kind of nationalistic paranoia”.’
