a letter from France

As promised some time ago, I've begun transcribing a small cache of letters I've found from my grandfather, who was serving in the AEF in France during 1917 and 1918, to his sister Dorothea C. Paradise, who was living in England during the war.

There are ten letters: four from 1917, six from 1918, and one written after his return to the United States in 1919. I am dismayed to say that someone has disposed of most of the covers; I have only four, and it is guesswork assigning which goes to which letter. I should, I suppose, have begun with the first in chronological order, but this one was the first that I opened when I found the package, and it starts during an artillery bombardment, just after his position has been bombed by German aircraft, so it seemed the exciting in medias res to start off with.

I've added a few comments after the letter.

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[superscript at 90* in the upper corner, presumably as a postscript] 

It is splendid about your new gloves! Bravo!!

Hqrs. 56th Inf. Brig.

A.P.O. 744

October 23, 1918

My dearest Dolly

A Boche has just been overhead dropping bombs on us, so I begin to understand your feelings when they did it to you in London. They are rather dirty beasts, aren't they, although when they brought a prisoner in the other night I didn't feel much but pity for him. He was an Alsatian, the son of a French soldier, with three sisters & a girl in Paris. He was helpless and pathetic & it made me more disgusted than ever with the system that dragged him into this heartless, senseless business. It has seemed more unreal & more amazing since I have been here than it ever did before, & at this moment, when the roar of an artillery operation is going on, I can't realize [?] that it is grown men trying to smash other grown men in the lovely golden woods I looked at today. It is too bad that the spirit has to be born again in just this way. If all this labor had been put into something permanent & constructive, what a wonderful place the world would be to live in?

Just at that moment, they came in with a nice letter from you enclosing a very interesting one from Bob. He writes splendid letters, doesn't he? Well, there are two Paradises now in the arena & one just outside it. I wish he could get an assignment to a regiment, because you really do feel better in this part of the world even though it is very much dirtier & rather more dangerous. I shall send you back Bob's letter, because I have no way of keeping it in this land where you travel with a tooth-brush, & quite soon lose that. It seems incredible that people have houses and can have more than three pairs of shoes & two suits at one time if they want to! I left practically everything I own at La Brosse, which is an exceedingly nice place. Did I tell you that I saw my nice Countess in Paris for a few minutes & had a sad parting with her? We are really very good friends, & I like her a lot. She paid me the great compliment of saying that I was "délicat" & gave me an awfully nice cigarette holder. It was great luck from a selfish point of view, to fall in with the de la Chapelles, because we really saw something of France, & have an open house here whenever we want it. I don't suppose I can ask for leave for some time, now, because they will probably put this division into a more active sector before long.

I am too sleepy to know what I want to say & I think that I shall go to bed, & go on tomorrow. We shall probably get retaliation for this artillery fire pretty soon & I had better get my sleep now. Good night, my dear.

The next morning

They bombed us & shelled us & shot machinegun bullets at us & brought in German prisoners all night, but none of it was near enough to make us get up and hunt cover. But it was rather irritating because it wasn't very easy to sleep with our heads ready to drop at any moment. The French on the left picked one of them up with a searchlight & shot shrapnel at him, & it was a very pretty sight.

I shall appreciate the home in America after all this, although I must say the I rather enjoy this stuff. But I am nothing but a civilian in khakhi [sic] -- and I shan't be sorry to be in mufti again. It was a great thing to be born just when I was. Five years later & I should have left lost the greatest experience of generations, & the greatest opportunity. Life here is simple & uninvolved with nothing but Germans & things to worry about, nevertheless, and has distinct advantages.

I had a letter from Wayland in the same mail that brought your. He has been over here for some time -- having flown across the Channel in an aeroplane with some other people. Lately he has been in a hospital in Tours with the Spanish flu, which is one reason you haven't seen him. He liked you all very much, indeed.

Au revoir, donc, ma chérie. J'étais enchanté d'avais recu ta lettre, comme toujours, parceque elle me faisait comprendre un peu de la vie que j'aime si passionement. Toutes mes remerciements.

Mille tendresses,

Burton

OK

N.B. Paradise

2nd Lt., Inf., A.D.C.

[Translation of last paragraph: Goodbye, then, my dear. I was delighted to have received your letter, as always, because it made me understand a little of the life that I love so passionately. All my thanks.

A thousand tendernesses, ]

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I have to thank my grandfather, Burton (who, to my sorrow, died in 1942, before I ever had a chance to know him) for his excellent handwriting. It's generally very clear, and the few words that are sometimes tricky I can usually deduce from context.

Factoids: I'm hoping to learn more about the de la Chapelles, of whom I assume his comtesse is one. I'm hoping they are related to le Comte Jean Joseph Xavier Alfred de la Chapelle, who was a bit of a daring adventurer in the 19th century: California Gold Rush man, travelled to Australia, then to Morocco during the French conquest, then participated in and wrote a history of the war of 1870. I don't know whether La Brosse is their home; I'm assuming it is, but both la brosse (the brush) and la chapelle (the chapel) are such common words that it will take much more than Google work to find more information. (Though Google did help me find this entry in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography: La Chapelle, Victor Octave Xavier Alfred de Morton de, Count de La Chapelle in the French nobility (1863–1931), lawyer and wildfowler, possibly this friend of Burton's.)

I'm pretty sure that the comtesse is the same person who, according to a family story, entertained Burton and his brother Bob (a decorated flyer) at a hunting lodge after to war and, when they sighted a handsome stag as they were out shooting one day said, "Oh, but that is Teodor! We NEVER shoot Teodor!"

I'm not sure who Wayland was, other than to presume he's a family friend (it's not a family name that I recognize).

I'm interested to see if NBP's attitude towards the war remains the same. I came across some stuff he wrote while he was in training back in the States, and it's pretty Boys Own Paper bumpf about freedom and humanity and fighting the beastly Hun. I don't know if this rather starry-eyed view of the war survived whatever front line experiences he had. 

Edited to add: I'm pretty sure, by the way, that the last text block, which is written in the bottom left corner of the last page, is the "passed by censor" mark. Which suggests that he was taking advantage of his position as an aide de camp to the division commander to "censor" his own letters. Tricky bugger. :-)

Armistice Day

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal,
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation,
And a glory that shines upon her tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at home;
They have no lot in our labour of the daytime;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known,
As the stars are known to the night.

As the stars will be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.



For the Fallen, Lawrence Binyon, 1914

Primary Source Teaser and book report: Foch

I was going through boxes and boxes of old family photos, most of them from 1980-2010, I came across one box that had old, old photos, clearly from circa 1900-1950. Among the other things in the box, an amazing find: a collection of about half a dozen letters from my grandfather in the AEF to his sister back in the US! Other materials include some poems he wrote (I can hear Richard Clarke scoffing now :-) and a rather starry-eyed essay about the dedication of American fighting men to defeating Imperial Germany. I'll be transcribing all of these and sharing them here.

I should also add that, in the long time since my last posts, I finished reading Michael Neiberg's brief biography of Ferdinand Foch (Foch: Supreme Allied Commander in the Great War, Brassey's, 2003). It's a workmanlike piece, only about 125 pages. It describes his early training and professional development, laying out some of the factors that would underpin both his success and his challenges during the war. Most of the book is devoted to his war service. Neiberg depicts him as a pragmatist, a Catholic but not a political Catholic, and a man willing to recognize and learn from his mistakes while sticking to his principles. His contention is that Foch never lost faith in the pre-war doctrine of the offensive, but sought to refine and reinterpret (almost reinvent) that belief in the face of the army's wartime experiences. Instead of following the early pattern of an unsophisticated, unrelenting, infantry-based tactical offensive, Foch became a supporter of complex, combined-arms operations that used intelligence preparation of the battlefield, planned and sophisticated artillery fires, and evolutionary tactics to create, develop, and maintain the operational offensive in pursuit of clearly defined ad realistic strategic goals.

Neiberg does go into some detail concerning the difficulties Foch and other officers found in coalition warfare, and he shows the growing tension between Foch and Clemenceau that led, as the war was ending and in the immediate aftermath, to outright conflict between many of the French Army's senior officers on one side and their civilian leaders on the other. Foch did not directly challenge the civilian government, though he came close to doing so, and he did not take the advice of many of his supporters and leave the Army for politics, but he continued to be frank, outspoken, and even combative over France's future safety until his death in 1929 at the age of 78.

The book is a quick read; it is clear, well written, and informative. I don't know the state of historiography on the marshal's life, but I would think on the surface this appears to be a solid, basic introduction to the professional life of one of France's most famous military officers and the man who, as much or more than any other, guided the French Army to victory in the Great War.

new books!

A friend introduced me to the excellent Daedalus Books in Columbia, Maryland, who deal primarily in remaindered books and have an excellent military history section.

While perusing their web catalogue, I came across two titles I simply *had* to have that are very apt to mention here. I ordered them immediately, and they arrived today, along with a few other choice items.

One was Gentleman Volunteers: The Story of the American Ambulance Drivers in the Great War, August 1914-September 1918. Another was Letters from Verdun: Frontline Experiences of an American Volunteer in World War I France. My grandfather and great uncle, as previously mentioned, were in the American Ambulance Field Service before America entered the war (Great Uncle Bob being awarded the Croix de Guerre, I think for service with the French 32e Division during the French Second Offensive at Verdun in August 1917). So I'm very excited to find something about the American volunteer services.

I also picked up a(n unexpectedly huge) book of military maps and Come On Highlanders! Glasgow Territorials in the Great War because, well, a book about the GW, a book about the Highland Light Infantry, a book about my soon-to-be adopted home, and all for less than $7? Who could resist?

All three of these Great War titles will get added to the (voluminous) reading list and I'll try to report on them in due course.

Meanwhile my painting project still looms, and my film festival. :-)

book report: With a machine gun to Cambrai by George Coppard

I have to say, I found this is a ripping wee book. It's the first-hand account of a British soldier in World War One, from his enlistment until his demobilization. He was an Other Rank--mostly a private, eventually rising to the dizzying rank of corporal :-) --and he brings a different perspective to that of some of the more famous officers' memoirs. He was also a specialist, trained as a machinegunner in an infantry unit then transferred to the new Machine Gun Corps (MGC), which collected MG teams into a single body, then detached them as small elements to support infantry units (as well as providing support to the cavalry, motorcycle and armoured car units, and eventually provided MG crews to the newfangled "tanks"). Coppard is a very observant raconteur, and he speaks feelingly of the emotions he and other soldiers encountered, but he also displays the stoicism and good humour with which the British soldier generally meets his fate whether good or ill. He's a very lucid writer, and for all he doesn't engage in purple prose or amateur dramatics, he's readable and thoughtful, providing more than just a bare recounting of places and dates. If you come across the book and have never read anything about the Great War, I would recommend it as a well-written introduction. If you've read a lot about the World War, but would like to get a glimpse of the trench-eye view, I would recommend it again.

One thing that struck me, having watched not too long ago the very popular Downtown Abbey television series, was what Coppard remarked as the most horrible experience he endured. He suffered through uncountable bombardments, endured cold days and nights, wet or even flooded trenches, foul rations, incessant lice, and other privations that would make most of us curl up and cry for mummy. But what he remarks on being the most unpleasant and hateful period of his service was a time he spent in a clean, dry, warm rear-area hospital. One of his mates accidentally shot him in the foot with a revolver as they were assembling for duty one morning. He was sent to a field dressing station and then to hospital. En route, he was marked down as being suspected of suffering a SIW or self-inflicted wound. The hostility, the ostracism, the cold and brutal treatment he received as a suspected SIW hurt him more then the wound and caused him more distress than any physical suffering. Once the full account of the event was passed back through the reporting chain, the difference was night and day; he was warmly and kindly treated by everyone who had shunned him or supplied the barest of attention before. Anyone who saw DA can rest assured that the incident in which a relative of one of the characters is reported shot as a deserter was not far off in its depiction of how such news would be received. On the other hand, I always found the ease with which one of the other characters got himself wounded and sent home with no suspicion on the part of his comrades as to the nature of his injury... I still find that far too convenient a plot device.

I'll add a bit more about what I found interesting later, perhaps over the weekend. And stick in a few photos. :-)

Normal Service to be Resumed Shortly

Three posts out of seventeen apologising for a gap in posts is not a good thing! But various events have kept me from giving The Hissing Fuse the attention it deserves, which will hopefully be shortly remedied.

Previews of coming attractions include:

• I should soon finish George Coppard's With a machine gun to Cambrai; for a small volume, it's taken me a great time to read it, but I've enjoyed it a good deal. It's very lucid and heartfelt, and in other circs it would be a very quick read, so I highly recommend getting your hands on a copy, gentle reader.
• Likewise, Foch: Supreme Allied Commander in the Great War by Michael S. Neiberg is a pretty quick read, and I should have that finished off before too long. If I didn't read so many things at once...
• Meanwhile, Roundwood's World has had several new posts on his lovely poilus and some of their reporter friends.
• Also, the Lardies' Summer Special is out and has a piece on late war British infantry tactics, with accompanying scenarios.
• I have a large (large) painting project to work on this summer, which I am hoping to chronicle for you, gentle readers. Perhaps one of my last painting projects for a couple of years...
• And to get me in the mood for that, I'm planning some rainy day soon to have a Great War marathon viewing session. I have shrinkwrapped copies of Capitaine Conan and Joyeux Noel to break open as well as a been-watched-but-still-good Paths of Glory and (on the magic Internets/Roku box) Beneath Hill 60 and a few other choice examples of the film-maker's art.

That should be enough to whet your appetite, at least! We'll see if I can supply the dishes in June.

A Tidbit for Friday

One interesting remark I came across in Coppard's memoir was that a Jewish soldier in his regiment was allowed, in the spring of 1916, a week's home leave to attend Passover services. Many soldiers in the unit, according to Coppard, had not had any home leave since arriving in France. Coppard had, himself, been given about a week's compassionate home leave when his stepfather died at the beginning of 1916. That had been his first time back in England since embarking at Folkestone on 1 June1915.

In passing, I remark that Coppard had clearly read Robert Graves's Goodbye to All That, and read it very closely, before writing his own account of the war. Several times already (I'm about two-thirds through the short volume) he has mentioned Graves, either confirming his observations, remarking that their experiences were different, or questioning whether Graves quite understood some of the things he saw.

He has presented a pretty thorough impression of the attitudes towards the enemy in his unit. It began largely with a rather cautious dislike, the sort of instinctive but not very personal hostility that soldiers might have to an enemy they had not personally encountered. By the time they reach the winter of 1915/1916, however, he and his comrades had suffered enough from the attentions of the foe that there was no question of a Christmas Truce and, in fact, a positive willingness to take opportunities to kill the enemy. And when a group of German soldiers, under the pretense of surrendering, approached the British lines close enough to mount a devastating grenade attack, Coppard and others resolved simply to shoot any enemy in future that appeared to be attempting to surrender.