Ww1

We know that war is hell. But it doesn’t ever make us stop doing it

There’s a plausible theory — recently rehearsed in the BBC’s excellent two-part documentary The Lion’s Last Roar? — that our war in Afghanistan was largely the creation of the Army, which sorely needed a renewed sense of military purpose after the debacle in Iraq. As a taxpayer, this appals me. As the parent of a boy approaching conscription age it horrifies me. But as an Englishman, it doesn’t half make me proud that we’ll still do anything — up to and including embroiling ourselves in a futile conflict — rather than admit we’re finished as a fighting nation. Though we joke about having beaten Germany twice at their national sport

The Spectator at war: Quiet seas

From The Spectator, 14 November 1914: We have mentioned elsewhere Mr. Winston Churchill’s speech on the Navy at the Guildhall, in which he pointed out that in effect patience and vigilance must be the watch-words of our sailors now as heretofore. There seemed at one time a certain restlessness in the public mind in regard to the Navy, which if it had been reflected in our Fleets might have been of the utmost danger. Happily, however, public opinion seems now to have steadied, and there is no fear of any attempt on the part of the man in the street to try to force our Navy into premature action. Nothing

The Spectator at war: The peril from aliens

From The Spectator, 14 November 1914: Men guilty of helping the enemy are simply spies within our lines, or traitors to their adopted country. There cannot be any dispute about that. If the penalty visited on them is one of laughable leniency, the spy or traitor, so far from being deterred, has an actual incentive to continue his business. He sees himself in an heroic light—and he will get rich rewards when peace is restored and the time comes to acknowledge his “dangerous” services. Imprisonment, even for a considerable period, is certainly not a practical way of dealing with guilty aliens. They know that with the war will end all

A reverend at war

This evening – Armistice Eve – Ben Fleetwood Smyth (no relation) and Hugh Brunt will be putting on their annual British Art Music Series concert: this year, in aid of St Paul’s, Knightsbridge. Narrated by Judith Paris, and interspersed with Victorian and Edwardian music from the BAM Consort and the BAM Ensemble, the event will tell the story of one London community’s life, both at home and abroad, across the full span of the First World War, focussing on extracts from the parish magazines of the time, read by the current vicar, Fr Alan Gyle, and by yours truly. The Rev Wilfrid Hannay Gibbins is my guy: a St Paul’s assistant

Why the Guardian is wrong to attack the Tower of London poppies

The furore over Jonathan Jones’s criticism of ‘Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red’ (or the Tower of London poppies, as they’re more familiarly known) has been both understandable and unsurprising, an early foray in what promises to be a four-year-long argument over how best to commemorate the dead of the First World War. Jones’s article caused outrage by condemning the memorial as ‘prettified and toothless’, symptomatic of ‘the inward-looking mood that lets Ukip thrive’. It didn’t help that the original article (Jones has since published a further defence of his position) gave a supercilious and rather unpleasant account of the people who had come to see the installation: loftily, Jones

Remembrance Sunday is marvellous; for God-free war commemoration, go to France

The most remarkable thing about the ceremony at the Cenotaph on Remembrance Sunday is that it just gets more popular. A ceremony that a generation ago might have been confidently predicted to appeal to a smaller and smaller bit of the population has somehow attracted the kind of benign publicity you get for the Children in Need awards. And the enormous crowds at the Tower to see the moatfull of ceramic poppies – one for each British life lost – has taken everyone by surprise. It’s got a good deal to do with the centenary of the First World War, of course, but that itself suggests that in a fractured

The Spectator at war: Watching the Home Front

From The Spectator, 7 November 1914: We say without hesitation that if every town and urban district and village in England had a Guard formed on the lines of the Mitcham Town Guard, something would have been accomplished that might prove most valuable in the event of invasion. We shall no doubt be asked by many military critics whether we really believe that these Village and Town Guards, composed of boys under nineteen and middle-aged men from thirty-eight to sixty-five, would be of any sort of use from the military point of view. Our answer is, in the first place, that men who have learned the use of the rifle, and

The Spectator at war: Standing on ceremony

From The Spectator, 7 November 1914: On Wednesday next the King will open Parliament in state, the only alteration in the prescribed ceremonial being the temporary disuse of the glass coach. This alteration is due to a cause which, it is interesting to note, is reflected in every large household in the kingdom. So many members of the King’s servants have gone to the front as soldiers that it is difficult to find a sufficient number of the men trained to the ceremonial work. Otherwise, and most properly, the state will be full state. We are sure that the country as a whole will most heartily endorse the King’s decision.

The Spectator at war: Keeping the Holy Places holy

From The Spectator, 7 November 1914: We are glad to note that the Indian Government has issued a reassuring proclamation as regards the Holy Places. We trust, however, that before long France, Russia, and Britain, all of whom are Powers with large numbers of Mohammedan subjects, will join in a common declaration to the Moham- medan world that in no circumstances shall we interfere with the Holy Places or the religious feelings of Mohammedans. Moslems may be perfectly certain that no rearrangements made after the war will compromise in the very slightest degree religious rights in Arabia. We owe such a declaration to our Mohammedan subjects and to ourselves. It

The Spectator at war: The war on Surrey

From The Spectator, 7 November 1914: By far the largest addition to or alteration in the scenery of Surrey and its commons has been the building of the hutments which are to form the winter quarters of the new Army. This is a change which is visible near and far. Go up Hindhead on a clear day, and from that sunlit and windy plateau look out east and north towards the chalk downs and the heights beyond Bagshot. The landscape has changed from the familiar slopes and levels of three months ago. The blues and greys and greens are streaked and slashed with yellow and white. The quiet of the

The Spectator at war: News of the week

From The Spectator, 7 November 1914: THE most important event of the week has been the declaration of war on Turkey by Britain. In the words of the London Gazette of Thursday: “Owing to hostile acts committed by Turkish forces under German officers, a state of war exists between Great Britain and Turkey as from to-day. Foreign Office, November 5th, 1914.” The Gazette also contains an Order in Council annexing the island of Cyprus. The Order points out that the outbreak of hostilities annuls the Convention, Annexe, and Agreement made between us and the Turks in 1878. In addition, the British Fleet during the past week has been busily bombarding

The Spectator at war: A probationer’s diary

From The Spectator, 31 October 1914: THE following are extracts from the diary kept by a Red Cross probationer this autumn: Tuesday—A rumour has gone about that we are to have wounded here one day this week. I wonder! Instead of dusting, I polished all the twenty electric-light switches all round the ward this morning, besides doing the taps. Far more amusing than dusting and much better exercise. Wednesday—One of the patients—No. 8—ran quite a bad temperature to-day, and seemed in great pain. It was wretched to see him suffer; he seems unable to eat or sleep, and gets no rest from his pain. Such a wet day! For the

The Spectator at war: An accent of prejudice

From The Spectator, 31 October 1914: We regret to record that a gallant and patriotic sailor, Prince Louis of Battenberg, has fallen a victim to the foolish prejudice that people with foreign names and of foreign birth cannot be loyal British subjects. It was announced on Friday that Prince Louis of Battenberg had resigned the office of First Sea Lord in a letter to Mr. Winston Churchill, the candour and simplicity of which do him the greatest credit. The First Lord’s reply will interest the public from its mention of the very large number of capital ships and naval craft of all descriptions which are now falling into the lap

The Spectator at war: The Crescent and the Cross

From The Spectator, 31 October 1914: THE most important event of the past week is the entrance of Turkey into the war, announced in the newspapers of Friday. For some time the Committee of Union and Progress, the gang of desperate and intriguing adventurers who control the Porte, have been doing their best by various unfriendly acts to provoke Russia and Britain into a declaration of war. Having failed in this, and probably also being warned that a peace party of considerable dimensions was growing up in Constantinople, they decided to force war by active hostilities, and on Thursday sent their ships to bombard peaceful Russian towns on the Black

The Spectator at war: American sympathy

From The Spectator, 31 October 1914: We do not ask for help of any material kind from the United States; we recognize that a strict neutrality is not only her proper course, but represents her true interests. All we desire is the sympathy of comprehension, the sympathy of a clear understanding of the principles on which we have acted. When a man is in a great crisis, whether of sorrow, adversity, or illness, he craves for the sympathy of persons of his own flesh and blood. Their money and their energies may be of no use at all to him, but he does value their thoughtfulness and their regard. We

The Spectator at war: The spirit of the sailor

The most curious thing of all is that the sailor should become so much a part of his peculiar element that his detachment from the land is even more marked than the landsman’s imperfect acquaintance with the sea. The sailor comes on shore like a man penetrating doubtfully into an unknown hinterland; he has the air of a foreign being in the streets of his native land; he looks about him as though adventures might fall out of the sky. The author of The Ingoldsby Legends has described the impression made by the sailor on others : “It’s very odd that sailor-men should talk so very queer— And then he hitched

The Spectator at war: Men, men, men

From The Spectator, 31 October 1914: The Germans are doing rapidly and effectively what we ought to be doing, and what we must do if we are to win. They are raising new armies and training the remaining portion of their adult male population to arms. When the war began we all thought that about four million German fighting men was the most we need reckon with. These men have already been put into the firing line in the two theatres of the war, and now Germany is turning to that part of her adult male population—another four millions—who have not yet been trained, or else were trained so long

The Spectator at war: The enemy alien

From The Spectator, 24 October 1914: It is alleged that in London there are something like a hundred thousand people, and as many more in the rest of the country—probably the figures are twice too high—of German and Austrian nationality. These aliens are for the most part at present earning their living in various trades. It certainly would be laying rather a heavy burden upon our shoulders to intern the whole of them, and to feed, clothe, and generally provide for their wants. No doubt if it must be done it must, but it would surely be unwise to hound the Government on to such action unless it is clear

The Spectator at war: Attempts at invasion

From The Spectator, 24 October 1914: Time being against her, a condition of stalemate on her frontiers is a hopeless business for Germany. Invasion, then, is a logical necessity. It is true that the chances are small, and that failure might mean the loss of a quarter of a million Germans or more, but to the German military philosopher that matters nothing. He would ask you: “What object is there in possessing a quarter of a million armed men unless you use them? And the only way to use them is to fling them on the enemy. To keep them unused is, from the strategist’s point of view, just the same

The Spectator at war: Our Russian allies

From The Spectator, 24 October 1914: For years past the vodka monopoly in Russia has been a public scandal. Government officials, in order to get good financial returns, have connived at the abasement of the people by encouraging drink. Year by year the revenue from the vodka monopoly has increased by leaps and bounds till the present year, when it was estimated to yield £93,000,000, or very nearly a third of the total revenue of the Russian Empire. Critics of Russia have long lugubriously prophesied that, in spite of all the Tsar’s protestations in favour of temper. ance, he would never venture to take any step which would impair such