Strategy and Command: The Anglo-French Coalition on the Western Front, 1914 9780773576957

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S t r at e g y a n d C om m a n d

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S t r at e g y a n d C om m a n d The Anglo-French Coalition on the Western Front, 94

Roy A. Prete

McGill-Queen’s University Press Montreal & Kingston · London · Ithaca

© McGill-Queen’s University Press 2009 isbn 978-0-7735-3522-0 Legal deposit third quarter 2009 Bibliothèque nationale du Québec Printed in Canada on acid-free paper that is 00% ancient forest free (00% post-consumer recycled), processed chlorine free This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Canadian Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, through the Aid to Scholarly Publications Programme, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. McGill-Queen’s University Press acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (bpidp) for our publishing activities.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Prete, Roy A. (Roy Arnold), 943– Strategy and command : the Anglo-French coalition on the Western Front, 94 / Roy A. Prete. Includes bibliographical references and index. isbn 978-0-7735-3522-0 . World War, 94–98 – Great Britain. 2. World War, 94–98 – France. 3. Great Britain – Military relations – France. 4. France – Military relations – Great Britain. 5. Great Britain – Military policy. 6. France – Military policy. I. Title.

d 544.p 74 2009 940.332 c 2009-9033-2 Set in 0.5/3.5 Minion Pro Book design & typesetting by Garet Markvoort, zijn digital

contents

Illustrations vii Maps ix Abbreviations xi Preface

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 French and British Prewar Defence Policies 2 Entente Strategic Planning after 9

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3 War: Power Relationships within the Coalition, August–November 94 44 4 French Strategic Planning and the Deployment of the BEF in France 74 5 Collapse and Renewal: From the Battle of the Frontiers to the Battle of the Marne 92 6 The Move North, Defence of Antwerp, and Competition over Belgium 9

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7 The March on Lille, the Battle of Ypres, and the Second Command Crisis 49 8 End of an Era Conclusion

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Notes 23 Bibliography 263 Index 285

i l lust r at ions

Nicholas II and Poincaré Foch and Wilson Asquith

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Poincaré

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7

3

Kitchener 64 John French Joffre

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Joffre in ceremonial dress Haig, Joffre, and French French and Foch

66 67

67

Poincaré and King George V

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The Prince of Wales, King Albert I, and King George V Joffre and Foch Haig

7

70

69

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maps

 Britain and the European Coastal Regions 2 The Schlieffen Plan/Plan XVII : August 94

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3 Anglo-French/German Disposition of Armies: Western Front,  September 94 0 4 The Fall of Antwerp

36

5 Anglo-French Movements of Corps in Northern France and Belgium, 6–22 October 94 56 6 The Anglo-French Theatre (4 November 94,  January 95) 82 Maps by Stuart Daniel, Starshell Maps, Prince George, bc

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a bbr e v i at ions

A AE AFF

Annexe Archives des Affaires Etrangères, Paris Archives of Fournier-Foch, Paris (now in Cordon, Sallanches, France) AFGG Les Armées françaises dans la Grande Guerre AG Archives de Guerre, Service historique de la Défense, Vincennes AN Archives nationales, Paris BEF British Expeditionary Force Cab Cabinet Papers, Public Record Office (The National Archives), London CID Committee of Imperial Defence CT Cipher telegram FO Foreign Office, London GQG Grand quartier général HGW History of the Great War based on Official Documents IWM Imperial War Museum, London KCMA King’s College Military Archives, London PRO Public Record Office (The National Archives), London T Telegram WO War Office, London

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p r e fa c e

More than ninety years since the end of the First World War, the history of this great cataclysmic event continues to be rewritten as historians search the archives and rethink the issues in quest of new and more satisfying interpretations.¹ The operation of the Anglo-French coalition during the war, which has attracted continuing attention,² warrants further study in the light of new perspectives and additional research findings, particularly in French sources. Since the 980s, a number of traditional interpretations relating to British participation in the First World War have been revised.³ The works of David French, Keith Neilson, and others have shifted the emphasis from the “easterner-westerner” strategic debate to a focus on the workings of the Entente coalition.⁴ Moreover, the thesis advanced by Michael Howard and Paul Kennedy that the primary focus of prewar British defence planners was on continental defence⁵ has been revisited in favour of an older tradition of imperial defence, in which defence of the empire assumed a much greater role in British defence policy in the years prior to and at the beginning of the war.⁶ A somewhat analogous development has taken place in the history of France in the Great War. The dominant Annales school of history, with its focus on social and economic developments over the longue durée, served as an impediment to political and military studies of the First World War for more than half a century. But since the appearance a generation ago of the pioneer work of Guy Pedroncini on French mutinies in 97,⁷ many

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works have appeared on political and military topics, including the wartime relations of France with certain of its allies.⁸ In 989, Georges-Henri Soutou systematically undertook the study of Anglo-French alliance relationships during the First World War in a major volume on economic war aims.⁹ Several scholarly articles have since appeared on the Entente cordiale during the war focusing on political, strategic, and economic aspects of that relationship,¹⁰ and Martin Horn has published a study on Anglo-French financing of the war.¹¹ Most recently, Robert A. Doughty, in his book Pyrrhic Victory: French Strategy and Operations in the Great War, has demonstrated that in the political-military sphere the French, like the British, were primarily concerned with the effective operation of the Entente coalition.¹² These historical reinterpretations in both British and French literature have furnished the backdrop for this further exploration of Anglo-French command relations on the Western Front in 94. The operation of coalitions is a complex process, and at any moment, one or another of a variety of converging factors may appear dominant in determining the functioning of the relationship. Various theses thus exist on the operation of the Entente cordiale. Jehuda L. Wallach, after a survey of several factors, concludes that interpersonal relationships were the decisive factor in the functioning of the Anglo-French coalition.¹³ William James Philpott, on the other hand, argues from the military point of view that the “northern flank” strategy of successive British military leaders was the key element in the operation of the Anglo-French military coalition on the Western Front and that British interests were frequently sacrificed on behalf of the French.¹⁴ Noting the conflicting interests, recriminations, and trial-and-error approach of the coalition, whose early years she describes, albeit briefly, Elizabeth Greenhalgh has focused on command, maritime, and industrial relations after 96, in which Allied war-winning strategies were developed.¹⁵ All of these treatments cover important factors, none of which – along with several others – should be neglected, and each author has made a significant contribution. But in-depth research in French sources has frequently been lacking. Regrettably, English-speaking authors have tended to tell the history of bilateral relations solely from a British perspective and have relied too heavily on British records, without adequate research in French archives.¹⁶ A further weakness in the literature has been the insufficient attention given to important foreign policy considerations, domestic pol-

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itics, and civil-military relationships, which played a significant role in shaping Allied strategy and hence the operation of the coalition.¹⁷ This study, the first of three volumes covering the Joffre period of French leadership from 94 to 96, will probe more deeply than previous studies the secrets of French political, diplomatic, and military archives for the vital formative period of the phase of “movement” in 94. The purpose of this and succeeding volumes is to examine Anglo-French command relations on the Western Front within the broad context of Anglo-French political and diplomatic considerations and the wider coalition interests of each partner.¹⁸ The argument put forward here – a reinterpretation based on extensive research in both French and British archives – is that the political and strategic imperatives of each country provided the overall framework and were frequently the most significant factor in Anglo-French command relations during the period studied. The argument is that the nexus of differing strategic imperatives came to bear most decisively at the command level. In the Western tradition of military subordination to civilian leadership, the belligerent governments determined the resources placed at the disposition of each command, and while there was a constant interplay between the field commanders and their governments on strategy, the politicians in general defined the strategic objectives in each theatre of operation according to their political objectives.¹⁹ Politics thus dealt the cards: the executants were left to play the hand. The decision-making latitude of each command, moreover, derived from the political apparatus of the state. The French commander on the Western Front, Joseph J.-C. Joffre, had much greater latitude in strategic decision making than his British counterpart Sir John French, the commander of the British Expeditionary Force. But ultimately it was from within the policy and grand strategy of each state that the military commanders derived their operational strategies. This first volume in the series will explore in depth the interaction of the two commands during the phase of close interaction of policy, strategy, and operations in the 94 campaign. It will demonstrate how the French Command, operating within the parameters of French grand strategy, fulfilled the aspirations of the French government to have the greatest return from its allies, and thereby attempted by a variety of means to draw the British government and British Command deeper into the war during this period of limited British commitment to the European con-

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flict. Although Joffre was ever desirous of subordinating the British to French strategic direction, his strong need to include British forces in Allied operations often led him to modify his strategy to accomplish that end. The British, for their part, despite their limited commitment to the continental war in 94, were inexorably drawn deeper into the conflict by the need to sustain their hard-pressed allies. Many of the struggles between the military commanders on the front in this period – including the fracas over the defence of Antwerp and a little-known command crisis during the “Race to the Sea” – were related to the differing political objectives of their respective governments. During this first phase of the war in 94, Joffre’s dominance of the Anglo-French coalition, enhanced in succeeding years by his assumption of the mantle of allied military coordinator, was already visible. The second volume will deal with the British attempt in 95 to evade the rigours of trench warfare by pursuing external operations, notably in the Dardanelles, with its corresponding disruption of plans on the French front. That strategy had to be revised in mid-95 by the pressing need to send Kitchener’s New Armies to France and then to have them fight hard at Loos in order to prop up their faltering allies. Joffre, on the other hand, took on a greater leadership role in the coalition, formulating a command formula that subordinated the British to the French, and hammered out in succeeding conferences a plan for unified military action of all the Entente powers in 96. The third volume in the series will focus largely on the Battle of the Somme: its origin in French planning, the role of the two governments in that process, the pressures exerted on the planning process by the German offensive at Verdun, and the growing independence of Sir Douglas Haig’s command during the battle. Ironically, with unstinted British commitment to the so-called generals’ war on the Western Front in 96, the major controversy was over the continuation of the joint Salonika campaign, which the French now sustained and the British rejected – a controversy that extended beyond Joffre’s fall from power at the end of 96. Many individuals and institutions have contributed to the preparation of this work. My greatest intellectual debt is to Professor Ulrich Trumpener who, as my mentor while I was a doctoral student at the University of Alberta, taught me not only the need for rigorous archival research but also the importance of exploring the political-military context of military

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events. My colleague at the Royal Military College of Canada, Dr Keith Neilson, has read and critiqued large portions of the manuscript, made helpful comments, and brought to my attention scholarship in related fields. The Royal Military College of Canada has lent me unstinted support in this project, providing several research grants and funding the work of research assistants D. Mark Prescott, James Kenny, and Brian A. Jevons, each of whom has made a unique contribution. Stuart Daniel has drawn the maps and Mary Newberry prepared the index. I express deep gratitude to the several archival repositories in France and Great Britain and the benevolence of their keepers for their service – often going the extra mile and beyond – in providing me access to their treasure troves. They have made my frequent trips to London, Oxford, Cambridge, and Paris pleasant and productive. I must also express my appreciation to the Henri Fournier-Foch family for the privilege of consulting papers of Marshal Ferdinand Foch, and to Jean-Claude Dubois for giving me access to the diaries of his great-uncle Henri M. Berthelot. I express my gratitude to the copyright holders of the numerous private papers referenced in the endnotes for the privilege of quoting from their sources. I also owe a debt of gratitude to Professor Donald H. Akenson, senior editor of McGill-Queen’s University Press, and those who have worked with him in attending to the multitudinous details associated with the publication of this book. Editor Carlotta Lemieux deserves special thanks. The peer reviewers provided by the press were particularly helpful. Finally, I must express my gratitude to my wife Carma Taylor Prete for her efforts in typing and word processing, her helpful comments, and her unstinted support and encouragement. As an expression of my love and appreciation, this book is dedicated to her. Roy A. Prete Kingston 2 April 2009

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CHAPTER one

French and British Prewar Defence Policies

France and Great Britain approached the European war in 94 from vastly different perspectives relative to their intended participation. These differing strategic approaches derived in large measure from their prewar defence policies, which reflected the widely differing geopolitical and economic circumstances of the two powers. The menacing diplomatic situation faced by the prewar Entente cordiale laid the basis for mutual cooperation in wartime as tentative arrangements for joint military action were worked out. But joint planning could not resolve the long-term divergence of interest between the partners or fully harmonize their conflicting strategies.

France: The Blue Line of the Vosges French grand strategy in 94 relied on the strength of the French army in combination with other resources and the effective operation of French alliances. The Russian alliance of 894 had long been the cornerstone of French defence policy, the sine qua non of success in a two-front war against Germany. The neutralization of Italy in the 902 colonial accords and the negotiation of the Entente cordiale with Great Britain in 904 were the capstone of that policy. The arrangement with Italy would free up important French forces in the Alps, and British adhesion would bring whatever support could be had from a great commercial and maritime

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empire. This grand strategy, with adaptations and adjustments, would ultimately win the war. After the French defeat of 87 in the Franco-Prussian War, the French had no difficulty identifying Germany as the chief enemy. The bleeding wound associated with their loss of Alsace-Lorraine would never let them forget. French military strategy in the following period was to strengthen and revitalize the French army and to assure French survival in a future war by the construction of a series of fortresses on the common frontier and adoption of a defensive-offensive strategy.¹ Though diplomatically isolated by the Bismarckian system, which grouped Germany with Austria-Hungary and Russia (and later Italy) in a series of sometimes competing alliances, France once again became a credible force on the European chessboard. Although France possessed the second-largest empire and nourished unsatisfied colonial ambitions, French defence policy reflected the needs of a predominantly continental land power. The empire might well buttress the goals of metropolitan France, but it could never, as in British policy, provide the focal point.² The sop of colonial expansion with German support proffered by Otto von Bismarck to the Jules Ferry ministries in the 880s might ease the pain temporarily; it could not relieve the long-term sense of injury in French hearts. German attempts at rapprochement thus came to nought.³ Moreover, with the passage of time, it became increasingly clear that France alone was no match for Germany. The expansion of German industry since the Franco-Prussian War and the failure of the French to match German population growth meant that in the twentieth century France would have to depend on the acquisition of allies for survival.⁴ French diplomacy seized the opportunity for a major breakthrough when Wilhelm II, the German emperor, wishing to work a rapprochement with Great Britain, failed to renew the Russian Reassurance Treaty in 890. Generous loans floated on the French bourse paved the way. By the 892 military convention with Russia and the ensuing alliance concluded in early 894, the French escaped from the isolation of the Bismarckian system.⁵ Thereafter, France based its defence not only on its own capabilities but on the Russian alliance, which constituted the cornerstone of French prewar security and defence planning. The Russian alliance was particularly valuable to the French because it would force Germany into a two-front war and, as a result, divert a

French and British Prewar Defence Policies

5

portion of its resources to the east. The French General Staff correctly postulated in the prewar period that in a two-front war, Germany would attempt to crush France immediately by a massive attack in the west before turning to Russia in the east. The French therefore were anxious to have the Russians launch an immediate diversionary attack against Germany in order to draw off German troops from the French front, rather than for Russia to attack to the south against Austria-Hungary, as was strategically advantageous to the Russians.⁶ Using as a lever the Russian need for continued loans for industrial development, French political and military authorities repeatedly pressed the Russians after 900 for the construction of strategic railways in western Russia, which would make possible the rapid concentration against Germany desired by the French.⁷ Finally, in August 9, under the urging of General Auguste Dubail, who unfolded French Chief of Staff General Joseph Joffre’s plan for an immediate French offensive in the west, the Russians formally promised for the first time to engage 700,000 to 800,000 men against Germany by the sixteenth day of mobilization, even though Russian mobilization would be only partially completed.⁸ The promise of this immediate diversion, according to Joffre, would allow the French staff to abandon all reserve on their own front and to prepare for an immediate offensive, which was done in variant  to Plan XVI and later in Plan XVII .⁹ French adoption of an offensive strategy after 9 was thus based in large part on the assurance of immediate and large-scale Russian action on Germany’s eastern borders. But the Russian alliance had had significant ups and downs in its nearly twenty-year history, with its reliability called into question on occasion. In 899 the scope of the alliance had been extended “from merely shadowing the Triple Alliance” of Germany, Austria, and Italy to “maintaining the balance of power in Europe,” and periodic consultations had taken place in subsequent years according to the terms of the agreement.¹⁰ But any improvement in Russo-German relations could weaken its cohesion and, as in the 905 Björkö talks between tsar and emperor and the following accords, might even threaten its existence. French failure to back up the Russians in the 908–09 Balkan crisis with military force on an issue in which Russian more than French interests were in question had dealt the alliance a severe blow.¹¹ The subsequent Russo-German talks on the Berlin-Baghdad railway in 90, Russian flirtation with Italy over colonial issues and support of Italy in the war with

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Turkey in 9, and the germanophilia of portions of the Russian court thus raised serious doubts in French minds concerning the reliability of Russian military assurances.¹² French political and military leaders therefore made a concerted effort to ensure the complete fidelity of the Russian ally. Raymond Poincaré made two trips to Russia for this purpose, the first as prime minister in 92 to resolve Italian issues and to reaffirm his support for the Russian alliance, and the second as president of the Republic in July 94 to counteract French easing of diplomatic tensions with Germany the previous year and again to reinforce the alliance. Prime Minister René Viviani, who also held the post of minister of foreign affairs, accompanied him on the latter trip.¹³ The highest-ranking military authorities exchanged visits: Grand Duke Nicholas Nicholaevich, the likely choice for Russian commander-in-chief, attended French military manoeuvres in 92; General Joffre reciprocated with a similar visit to Russia in 93.¹⁴ Taking the Russians into greater confidence, the French General Staff under Joffre engaged in more cordial conversations with their Russian counterparts and shared more vital information on French plans. These talks reaffirmed, as had previous discussions, that the “first and principal objective” of Russia and France was the defeat of Germany, and that the defeat of Germany’s allies was a secondary objective. Pledging to attack the Germans with “nearly all” his forces, Joffre persuaded the Russians in 93 to advance their plans for an attack in East Prussia to the fourteenth day of mobilization to better synchronize with French plans to attack on the eleventh day.¹⁵ The French succeeded in their bid to ensure Russian support. Faithful observance of prewar arrangements by the Russians in August 94 led not only to deployment of the German Eighth Army in East Prussia but to the diversion of two vital German army corps from Belgium to the Eastern Front, which contributed significantly to the victory of the Marne.¹⁶ And in March 95, the Russian attack on Austro-Hungarian forces in Galicia led the Germans to withdraw eight divisions from the Western Front and ultimately to choose the Eastern Front for their 95 offensive.¹⁷ Following the conclusion of the Russian alliance in the early 890s, French foreign policy had undergone a further revision under Théophile Delcassé, who served as foreign minister from 898 to 905.¹⁸ As JeanBaptiste Duroselle has observed, Delcassé sought not only to pursue the policy of colonial expansion but to build support against Germany

Tsar Nicholas II (right) receives Raymond Poincaré, president of the French Republic (left), at Cronstadt, Russia, in July 94. The purpose of Poincaré’s visit was to shore up the Russian Alliance (L’Illustration, 25 July 94).

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on the Continent.¹⁹ He thus strengthened the somewhat faltering alliance with Russia in 90 and negotiated colonial settlements with imperial rivals. The first, with Italy in 90, provided an assurance of French “disinterest” in Libya, sought by the Italians, in exchange for a French free hand in Morocco. This was followed by a loosely worded neutrality accord in 902, which effectively detached Italy from the Triple Alliance and assured its neutrality on the outbreak of war.²⁰ Delcassé’s crowning achievement was the signing in 904 of the Entente cordiale with Great Britain, with whom France had been at loggerheads over Fashoda, in the Sudan, as recently as 898. This agreement, in the immediate, allowed for French expansion in Morocco in exchange for a British protectorate in Egypt. This accord between former colonial rivals contained no commitment beyond the promise to consult should the arrangement be contested.²¹ But Berlin’s challenge to Anglo-French rapprochement during the first Moroccan crisis in 905, and its belligerent attitude and intransigence in the ensuing months, alarmed the British government, which authorized military and naval staff conversations with the French in 906 on a contingency basis.²² With the addition of naval and military conversations, the Entente cordiale became the second touchstone of French defence policy, alongside the Russian alliance. As the first Moroccan crisis was succeeded by the second in 9, the French attempted to convert the Anglo-French Entente into an alliance, but with little success beyond the renewal and tightening of military and naval staff discussions. The Entente cordiale nonetheless laid the basis for the wartime Anglo-French coalition.²³ The 9 Moroccan crisis proved to be a watershed in France’s preparation for war. The policy of détente and accommodation with Germany of successive radical ministries came to a close. Before a wave of nationalism, the left-leaning radical government of Joseph Caillaux gave way in early 92 to the nationalist ministry of Lorraine patriot Raymond Poincaré, based on the centre and right, with a policy of national unity and strengthening of the army and navy.²⁴ As prime minister and later as president after 93, Poincaré dominated the French diplomatic scene in pursuing policies of tightening the alliance with Russia and attempting to bind the British into a stronger commitment to French defence. The maintenance and impenetrability of the alliance system, he believed, was the best guarantor of peace in Europe. His policy toward Germany combined accommodation with greater firmness.²⁵

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The appointment of General Joseph Joffre as chief of the French General Staff and commander-in-chief designate in 9 reflected the new direction in French foreign policy. Joffre’s mandate was to implement an offensive strategy, based on immediate Russian assistance.²⁶ In French military planning prior to the war, and in his relationship with French allies during the war, Joffre acted in accordance with French defence policy in his attempt to gain the greatest possible military support from France’s allies. With regard to the Italians, Joffre took a disparaging attitude. Informed of the secret Franco-Italian colonial accords of 902 and the obvious alienation of Italy from Austria-Hungary in the Triple Alliance, his staff judged correctly in 9 that Italy would observe a strict neutrality. Should Italy intervene against the French, moreover, its slow mobilization, not completed until the eighteenth day, would prevent it from participating in the decisive initial battles. As a result, two active corps on the Italian frontier were moved to the German front, and just four reserve divisions were left along the Italian border in Plan XVII to provide security against a possible Italian intervention.²⁷ Italian neutrality thus assisted Joffre in his plan for an immediate offensive against Germany. While the Russian and Italian attitudes could be gauged with reasonable certainty in the prewar period, that of Great Britain remained ambiguous. Though Britain had agreed to naval and military conversations, it had been unwilling to promise military support, a “keen disappointment particularly to the military element.”²⁸ The Entente cordiale, despite its military trapping, in the final analysis was still a friendship, not an alliance. Failing to obtain a firm commitment of British support, the French government sought to remove every obstacle to British intervention in the hope that common interest would oblige British participation in the event of war and attempted to make staff arrangements as morally binding as possible. The French staff was faced with the difficult task of framing French strategy around the needs and uncertainties of British defence policy.²⁹ A major aim of the French General Staff before 94 was to involve the British if a European war occurred, and then to obtain the largest possible participation from British forces, despite limited British commitment to defence of the Continent. The French navy played a significant if subordinate role in French defence planning. Though lacking the vast economic resources of the British Empire, the French Empire was a substantial resource for many

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vital wartime commodities. Even more important for French military planners, the empire’s 50 million inhabitants provided a vast pool of military effectives, a resource seriously lacking in metropolitan France because of the declining French birthrate.³⁰ In 94, in addition to the four divisions of European colonial and native troops of the XIX Corps in North Africa, there was a pool of 65,000 European and colonial troops (including the French Foreign Legion) in the colonies, which Joffre could draw upon to help right the balance between German and French troops on the French front.³¹ In the event, despite the bombardment of the Algerian ports Bône and Philippeville by the German warships Goeben and Breslau on 4 August 94, 50,000 colonial troops and 2,000 horses were transported to France under the escort of the French navy in time to participate in the Battle of the Marne.³² The main priority of French naval strategy prior to 94 was thus to keep the communications lines open with the empire in the Mediterranean, particularly for the transport of colonial troops. In France, troubled with interservice rivalry between army and navy as in Great Britain, the relative strength of succeeding ministers often determined the level of funding of each service. Though in relative decline at the end of the nineteenth century, the French navy, under more forceful ministers, began an ambitious building program at the turn of the century. The French navy retained its credibility in the Dreadnought Revolution of the world’s naval capabilities after 906 by building seven ships of this new class, as well as several cruisers and destroyers, thereby outclassing in most categories the combined fleets of Austria-Hungary and Italy in the period up to 94.³³ Since the beginning of informal Anglo-French naval conversations in 906, French defence of British interests in the Mediterranean in exchange for British defence of the French coast and Channel ports had been envisaged in the event of war. But the concentration and readiness of the German fleet and its expansion under the German Naval Law in 92 obliged the British to resort to the traditional wartime strategy of concentration in home waters in order to maintain the margin of superiority necessary to guard against a surprise attack. The French, anxious to maintain their superiority in the Mediterranean in order to assure their lines of communication with their colonies, withdrew their Atlantic squadron from Brest and stationed it on Toulon. These strategic decisions, taken independently of each other, led to the formal opening of

French and British Prewar Defence Policies



naval conversations in mid-92 which, in their final form, provided for British naval defence of the Upper Channel, Anglo-French cooperation in defence of the Lower Channel, and French primacy with British support in defence of the Mediterranean.³⁴ Pursuing a policy of military and diplomatic preparedness, the French government of Raymond Poincaré used the opening of official naval conversations as an opportunity for the political tightening of the Entente cordiale. Keenly alert to the moral obligation of mutual support implied in the naval arrangements, Poincaré – who had been rebuffed earlier in his attempt to tighten the Entente following the worrisome talks that Lord Richard Haldane, the British secretary of state for war, had conducted with Germany – now sought a written definition of Entente obligations from the British. The British government was unwilling, because of the climate of British public opinion, to make a firm political commitment but promised in an exchange of letters in November 92 to consult in time of crisis and then, if mutual action were decided, to take into account the previous staff and naval conversations.³⁵ This was as near as the British would come, in the prewar period, to making a commitment for the continental defence of France. The French General Staff undoubtedly failed to recognize the full potential of the Royal Navy in terms of economic warfare and the vast potential of the British Empire for troop mobilization.³⁶ In common with other European staffs, the French staff anticipated a short war that would be decided in the first great battles, and prepared accordingly. Joffre nevertheless, in sessions with key political leaders in the Conseil supérieur de la défense nationale (Superior Council of National Defence), in February 92 acknowledged that if the first great battles were not decisive, the war could drag on for an “indefinite period.” Although some provision was made for increasing munition output in wartime, no plans were made for industrial and economic mobilization. The Conseil supérieur, moreover, focused primarily on the immediate transfer of troops from Algeria in order to meet the Germans on equal terms, rather than the long-term buildup of forces as anticipated in General Charles Mangin’s plan for a colonial force of 00,000.³⁷ The vast potential of the British contribution, which would be most advantageous in the context of a prolonged conflict, was only dimly perceived. Yet French political leaders, presumably in the light of previous wars against the British Empire, maintained a healthy respect for the Brit-

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ish as an ally. Justin de Selves, the French foreign minister, echoed in November 9 the general tenor of debates in the French Chamber of Deputies that the Entente cordiale, “far from being barren or perilous … is, with the Russian Alliance, the best safeguard of our national interests and of peace reposing on the balance of power.”³⁸ The apocryphal story of a conversation between Major-General Henry Wilson and General Ferdinand Foch in 90 contains the germ of the relationship. “What would you say was the smallest British military force that would be of any practical assistance to you?” Wilson asked. “One single private soldier,” replied Foch, “and we would take good care that he was killed.”³⁹ To draw the British deeper into their commitment to French defence was a major French goal prior to and from the outset of the war. French political and military leaders knew their minds so far as the British were concerned: the chief problem was to get what they wanted. In conclusion, although France possessed the second-largest empire, its basic interests reflected the needs of a predominantly European land power. French defence policy at the onset of the First World War reflected this fundamental fact in its reliance on the French army and French allies. The French navy would play a vital role in keeping the lines of communication open with French colonies and defending French imperial interests in the Mediterranean. French commercial shipping and colonial interests elsewhere would have to be maintained in association with the Royal Navy. The French staff nonetheless expected much less from the British than from their Russian ally in 94. The Russians, in addition to mobilizing vast armies against their enemies, would commit 700,000 to 800,000 men against Germany by the fourteenth day of mobilization, while the British would contribute a maximum of 20,000 men by the sixteenth day. Russia, moreover, was deemed a trustworthy ally, while British involvement remained uncertain.

Great Britain: Defence of Empire and Muddle Britain’s foreign and defence policy for defending the British Empire rested on very different considerations from those of French defence. Moreover, Britain’s foreign policy underwent a major diplomatic realignment shortly after the opening of the new century, and its defence policy and military planning only gradually faced up to the new realities of the global situation over the ensuing years. Indeed, British defence policy

Good friends General Ferdinand Foch (left) and Brigadier General Sir Henry Wilson (right). After 9, Wilson prepared carefully with the French General Staff for the deployment of the British Expeditionary Force in France, and in the fall of 94 collaborated closely with Foch in the first Battle of Ypres (Aston, Marshal Foch, following p. 90).

4 St r at e gy a n d C om m a n d

and military thinking were still in a state of transition when war broke out in 94. At the dawn of the twentieth century Great Britain remained a commercial and maritime empire without equal. “The sun never sets on the British Empire” was a proud statement that every schoolchild could recite, describing an empire that covered one-fourth of the surface of the planet and included 250 million inhabitants. The defence of this vast empire depended on Britain’s as yet unchallenged mastery of the high seas.⁴⁰ But the “weary titan” faced new challenges as British vulnerabilities became apparent, forcing a major diplomatic realignment. The Boer War, which dragged on from 899 to 902, had demonstrated for Great Britain the dangers of diplomatic isolation and revealed the inefficiency of its army. Even more serious for an empire whose survival depended on command of the sea was the building of strong navies by the United States, Japan, and Germany at the turn of the century. The rise of three new naval powers effectively undermined the two-power naval standard upon which rested the proud nineteenth-century British policy of “splendid isolation.”⁴¹ Faced with an increasing number of potential rivals, Great Britain abandoned the policy of isolation in a piecemeal fashion. First, it came to terms with the United States in the Hay-Pauncefote Treaty of 90, which provide for U.S. construction of the Panama Canal and tacitly recognized “American supremacy” in the Western Hemisphere.⁴² In 902 the British signed an alliance with Japan to counteract the expansionism of their chief imperial rival, Russia, in Manchuria, Korea, and along the Indian frontier.⁴³ The Russo-Japanese War of 904–05 proved decisive, for it raised the nightmare of war against both traditional imperial rivals, Russia and France, against whom the two-power naval standard was still directed.⁴⁴ In the course of this crisis, British diplomacy adroitly came to terms with the French. In 904, as noted above, Great Britain and France signed the Entente cordiale that liquidated previous colonial rivalries in the Mediterranean. France would acquire a protectorate in Morocco in exchange for a British protectorate in Egypt; and the two powers would consult if the arrangement was challenged.⁴⁵ In the mind of the Marquess of Landsdowne, the British foreign secretary who negotiated the Entente cordiale, it had no anti-German intent.⁴⁶ But Germany was fast emerging as a threat. In 899 Berlin had buttressed

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its quest for a place in the sun as a world power by the decision to build a navy two-thirds the strength of the British one. In the wave of technological development at the turn of the century, Germany had outstripped Britain, more than doubling British steel production by 94 and becoming a major competitor for world markets. Repeated British attempts in 898 and 902 to work out a rapprochement with Germany had foundered on the German desire for continental hegemony, as Germany insisted that Great Britain associate with the Triple Alliance, a commitment London was not prepared to make.⁴⁷ Indeed, Berlin’s challenging of the Entente cordiale in the first Moroccan crisis of 905 identified Germany not so much as a wearisome colonial competitor but as a hostile state, and led the Liberal government of Henry Campbell-Bannerman to authorize military staff and naval conversations with the French in 906.⁴⁸ The completion of the triple Entente, however, which linked Britain, France, and Russia, did not come until 907. It was not until after Japan’s sinking of the Russian Fleet in the Straits of Tsushima in 905 and the weakening of Russia in the Russo-Japanese War that Great Britain signed conventions with Russia in 907 that settled colonial disputes in Persia and Afghanistan.⁴⁹ This arrangement, like the Entente cordiale with France, was little more than a rapprochement between former imperial rivals and implied no military commitment, for the British continued to pursue a policy of non-commitment and freedom of action.⁵⁰ After the 905 Moroccan crisis, the German menace assumed larger proportions, but tensions abated for a time. Despite the anti-German bias of the recently created Imperial General Staff,⁵¹ not until 908, with a further instalment of German naval building in the dreadnought class, did Germany become the major preoccupation of British defence. Taking advantage of the disruption in the naval construction of other great powers which the Dreadnought Revolution had caused, the Royal Navy took a naval building holiday in 906 and successive years, laying fewer dreadnoughts than the four prescribed per year until public opinion was aroused by the German naval-building program of 908.⁵² Only the next year, in a review by a subcommittee of the Committee of Imperial Defence to consider the “Military Needs of the Empire,” was it finally agreed that the destination of the British Expeditionary Force would be France rather than the North-West Frontier of India.⁵³ The 9 Moroccan crisis and the 92 German Naval Law focused British defence policy more fully on defence of the European continent. The

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Anglo-German naval race continued to exacerbate tensions and could not be resolved by Lord Haldane’s 92 negotiations with Germany. But a new détente in Anglo-German relations followed, marked by a deal to partition Portuguese colonies and the agreement on the Berlin-Baghdad railway. Germany and Britain were able to cooperate in negotiations over settlement of the 92–3 Balkan Wars.⁵⁴ In 93, in response to a projected major Russian troop buildup and the French Three-Year Law, which hastened German military preparation, Kaiser Wilhelm let drop a plan for increased naval expansion. The Anglo-German naval race thus seemed on the verge of de-escalating, but the continental buildup of arms between opposing alliances continued to accelerate, creating a climate favourable to armed conflict.⁵⁵ The danger of a European war remained very real. The British option of continental intervention, therefore, should be viewed not as the sole focus of British defence planners prior to 94, but within the broad framework of imperial defence. The underpinnings of British policy remained defence of the empire, which was the sine qua non of British economic prosperity and existence as a world power.⁵⁶ As Sir Edward Grey, the British secretary of state for foreign affairs, observed in 9, the survival of the empire depended on the maintenance of British control of the seas. In a European war, Great Britain might have to intervene to prevent Germany from gaining continental hegemony, which would imperil British control of the seas and hence lead to the loss of the empire.⁵⁷ Maintaining the continental balance was thus vital to the preservation of British interests. As Thomas G. Otte has observed, the consistent aim of British policy before 94 was “to balance global interests with concerns for a European equilibrium.”⁵⁸ Defence of the Continent and defence of the empire were integral parts of the same policy. Later events of the twentieth century should not obscure the fact that imperialism was a major force before 94, with both the Unionist Party and the liberal imperialists lauding its merits: only the anti-imperialist wing of the Liberal Party had misgivings.⁵⁹ To suggest that imperial interests were of little importance – as some of the participants (notably, Winston S. Churchill and David Lloyd George) did, writing in the postwar period, when empire and imperialism were no longer in vogue – is to distort the main thrust of British policy in 94.⁶⁰ The strategic imperatives of Great Britain at the approach of the

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First World War, with emphasis on “business as usual,” naval mastery of the high seas, and limited military involvement on the Continent,⁶¹ followed by the pursuit of imperial interests in the Mediterranean in early 95,⁶² are only understandable within an imperial perspective. In British defence planning, the Royal Navy occupied the primary position. While its role as the guardian of empire was well understood, much controversy swelled over its strategic deployment. The “blue water school,” in the tradition of A.T. Mahan, trumpeted the concept of command of the sea, protection of the sea lanes, and the role of big naval battles. The disciples of Julian Corbett preferred to take a more balanced view of naval defence, putting more emphasis on the idea of blockade and adding to the navy’s role as the protector of commerce its potential for launching land forces.⁶³ After 904, for reasons of economy and as the immediate danger to the home islands became greater from German naval building, more and more capital ships were deployed in home waters. This process was accelerated as a result of the German Naval Law of 92, which placed the German navy in a greater state of readiness.⁶⁴ But not until 92 was the idea of the close blockade of enemy ports abandoned in favour of a more distant blockade of Germany.⁶⁵ The role of the army in British defence and its future strategy were much less clearly defined and were the source of much interservice rivalry. The Boer War, demonstrating the weakness of the British army, marked a watershed. There followed a welter of reforms: the Committee of Imperial Defence (CID) in 902, with the aim of coordinating naval and military policy; the abolition of the post of commander-in-chief and the creation of the mixed Army Council in 904; the creation of the Imperial General Staff on the German model the same year to provide professional planning and expertise; and Haldane’s reforms, begun in 906, to create an expeditionary force of six divisions, with a reserve of 80,000 and a territorial army of fourteen divisions as a strategic back-up.⁶⁶ But British military and naval planning was in a state of transition, and the new institutions had yet to win their place in British institutional life. The CID failed in its mission to produce a unified naval and military strategy, largely because the navy was unwilling to support the strategy of continental intervention developed by the Operations Branch of the Imperial General Staff.⁶⁷ Despite Prime Minister Herbert H. Asquith’s instructions in 9 for the Royal Navy to make concrete plans for the

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deployment of the British Expeditionary Force (bef) on the Continent, and his appointment of Winston S. Churchill as First Lord of the Admiralty to assure joint cooperation,⁶⁸ no such plans were made until 93.⁶⁹ But the extent of British military engagement in a European war was to be strictly limited. The CID might discuss the Operations Branch’s preferred plan of sending an expeditionary force to come to the assistance of the French army as the key to maintaining a balance of power on the Continent,⁷⁰ but in terms of grand strategy at the ministerial level, it was not intended that the bef would provide the major British contribution in a continental war. Great Britain would keep the sea lanes open, conduct “business as usual,” and provide material and financial assistance to the continental allies, who in turn would be expected to do the bulk of the fighting.⁷¹ The highly respected French army and the Russian “steamroller” would crush the combined forces of the Central Powers. The bef was to be little more than a token force to bolster the continental allies in their campaigns.⁷² Moreover, in line with the British policy of independent action and non-commitment, the plans drawn up with the French in military conversations after the first and second Moroccan crises were no more than contingency plans, without political commitment. No political commitment was remotely possible, since the radicals in Asquith’s Liberal government were opposed to intervention and were not apprised of the joint staff talks until 9.⁷³ Thus, despite carefully drawn-up staff plans with the French, the actual dispatch of the bef was still up for discussion in 94. Nor was its strategy more than tentatively decided in favour of deployment alongside the French army. Amazingly, Sir Henry Wilson, the director of military operations since 90, and Sir John French, appointed chief of the Imperial General Staff in 92, favoured different strategies for the deployment of the bef. This divergence is explicable only in a loosely knit Imperial General Staff structure, in which each branch functioned more or less autonomously. Wilson, an advocate of intervention on the Continent, had made detailed plans with the French after 9 for the deployment of the bef next to the French army, while Sir John French, the commander designate, with the support of important members of the Cabinet, including the prime minister, favoured a direct strike on the Continent on the Belgian coast in support of the Belgian army.⁷⁴ The two strategies, as William Philpott has shown, were reflective of different strands in British strategic thinking. In connection with

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the time-hallowed policy of balance of power on the Continent, it was a well-understood maxim of British defence policy that no single great power should be allowed to possess the Channel ports on the other side of the English Channel.⁷⁵ The strategy of going to the assistance of France focused fundamentally on maintaining the balance of power. The advantages were considerable. In conjunction with the French, the small British force would not have to run the risk of facing the large German army unassisted. Deploying with the French would sidestep the difficulty of uncertain Belgian resistance to a German attack and concerns about the ill-trained and ill-equipped state of the Belgian army. But the British Expeditionary Force, fighting in cooperation with a much larger French force, would almost certainly be under French strategic direction.⁷⁶ The strategy of direct aid to Belgium, on the other hand, reflected the close connection in influential circles between maritime defence and military strategy. As such, it would involve using British military forces in conjunction with the Royal Navy in direct defence of British interests, as had been done in previous continental wars. It would give the British greater freedom of action than being associated as an auxiliary with much larger French forces, and, it was argued, it would pin down larger German forces.⁷⁷ But the strategy of direct aid to Belgium could not be implemented in the prewar period because the Belgians after 92 repulsed all overtures to discuss joint planning, fearing that these would compromise their neutrality and invite a German invasion.⁷⁸ The British were thus thrown back on the one available option, that of cooperation with the French, which became much more likely as a result of detailed joint staff planning. The Belgian strategy nevertheless remained anchored in the minds of key British political and military figures, and it would resurface at the outset of the war during the German attack on Antwerp and throughout the war on other vital occasions. Hence, in addition to the issue of whether the bef would be deployed on the Continent in a European war, the conflicting strands of British strategy made even the location of its deployment uncertain in 94. In sum, British defence policy in 94, though unified in its overall objectives, suffered from lack of cohesion and central coordination. Asquith’s prewar government functioned as a collection of departments,⁷⁹ each with its own task: the Treasury to maintain trade and commerce;

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2

the Royal Navy to control the sea lanes and bottle up the German navy in the North Sea; and the army to intervene on the Continent, according to the established plan or otherwise, as circumstances might dictate.⁸⁰ The relative mix of each of these components had yet to be settled at the outbreak of war. Many of the issues in British planning at the beginning of the First World War and in the years that followed arose out of continued ambivalence toward the question of military intervention on the Continent in relation to the exigencies of global grand strategy for defence of the empire. As in other countries, moreover, the British, captivated by the prospect of a short war, had made no plans for a long war or for the mobilization of the resources of the state.⁸¹ Britain’s allies, particularly the Russians, would be even less well prepared for a long war. Thus, to the dilemmas of British grand strategy would be added the further complication of supplying allies in a total war – a war scenario for which no plans had been made.⁸²

France, Britain, and Belgian Defence A neutral and independent Belgium, guaranteed by all the great powers, was a brilliant nineteenth-century diplomatic solution – a symbol of the balance of power, with each guaranteeing to keep the others out – but a nightmare for defence, as witnessed by the two world wars of the twentieth century. The defence of Belgium proved to be a particularly thorny issue for Anglo-French military strategy. Respect for British interests forbade an immediate French invasion of the territory, while the small state’s strict neutrality prevented any combined military planning for its defence. That French and British interests and strategies for the defence of the country were in fundamental conflict would become all too apparent when initial French operational strategy in August 94 failed to assure its independent existence. At the Congress of Vienna, the Netherlands had been enlarged as a buffer state, at Britain’s insistence, to prevent French dominance of those territories that were of vital British interest across the English Channel. Following the independence of Belgium in 830, the 83 agreements, followed by the 839 Treaty of London between Belgium and the great powers, guaranteed the neutrality and independence of Belgium. These

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arrangements, which represented an equilibrium between the European states and prevented any of them from dominating the small country, were a significant British triumph.⁸³ Throughout the nineteenth century Great Britain, whose diplomacy in 870 had prevented the violation of Belgian territory by either Prussia or France, was deemed Belgium’s “best guarantor,” as the British followed a policy of maintaining Belgian neutrality and balance of power on the Continent.⁸⁴ While Belgium enjoyed more cultural and economic ties with both France and Germany, it looked to Great Britain as the most reliable defender of its neutrality and independence.⁸⁵ The Belgian strategic plan was to defend the country by fortresses at Liège and Namur in conjunction with the Belgian army and to fall back on the fortress at Antwerp as an ultimate redoubt in order to gain time for Allied forces to come to its assistance.⁸⁶ Failing help from all others, the British would presumably then come to the aid of Belgium in a seaborne operation. But as in centuries past, the undulating plains of Belgium, situated at the crossroads of Europe, would be a temptation to invading continental armies. While Germany would ultimately launch its armies in a wide arc across Belgium in August 94, Joffre was prevented by his government in 92 from undertaking an a priori invasion of the country out of deference to British interests. In view of the narrowness of the corridors for invasion of the German frontier on either side of the waterways and marshes east of the Metz-Thionville fortified region, Joffre would have preferred to launch the major French offensive across Belgium. But on 9 January 92 the Conseil supérieur de la défence nationale, with Caillaux as prime minister, and a similar gathering on 2 February under the guidance of Prime Minister Poincaré rejected any plan for the invasion of Belgium prior to German violation of its territory, in order not to compromise future British support. On the other hand, the French could invade Luxembourg, whose independence also was guaranteed by international treaty, since it was largely under German domination, so the British would not object.⁸⁷ Thus, while planning for the invasion of Luxembourg, Joffre concealed from political view his preferred plan for an immediate offensive into Belgium, in order not to alienate the British. But the leftward shift of his deployment to Maubeuge in the 9 variant of Plan XVI and its maintenance in Plan XVII in 93 clearly demonstrated that he secretly retained the option of advancing into Belgium under favourable diplomatic circumstances.⁸⁸

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The hands-off neutrality of the small country made it virtually impossible to establish a coordinated Entente plan for its defence. In 906 Belgium had been willing to engage in preliminary staff discussions with the British, in which the British envisaged landing at French ports with 00,000 men and then advancing to Belgium’s defence. But by 9 the Belgians had become suspicious that the Entente cordiale powers had a concerted plan for a pre-emptive invasion of their country. Their suspicions were further aroused by British protests in 9 to the Dutch building of new fortifications at Flushing on the Scheldt, which would interdict a British naval landing at Antwerp in time of war. Confounding friend and foe, the Belgian government – as in the crises preceding the Second World War – had come to believe that maintenance of its neutrality was a better hedge against invasion than military planning with any power or set of powers.⁸⁹ Belgium’s policy was thus to resist any and all invaders in an effort to protect its neutrality. This, in 92, the Belgians expressed in unmistakably clear language to the British, who in turn informed the French. The issue was further complicated by the widespread view in London and Paris after 9 – based on an accurate assessment of Belgian intentions – that in the case of a minor violation of Belgian territory across Belgian Luxembourg, Belgium would not resist.⁹⁰ In the debate on a law voted in 93 to strengthen the army, Belgian Prime Minister Count Charles de Broqueville nevertheless reaffirmed the government’s intention to “swing the balance in favour of those powers who were not the first to violate the neutrality of Belgian territory.”⁹¹ At the outbreak of war in August 94, Belgium mobilized troops against all potential adversaries – one division on the coast against the British, two divisions against the French on the French frontier, and one against Germany, with a division in each of Antwerp and Brussels. Only when faced with a full-scale German invasion of their territory did the Belgians call upon the French, British, and Russians on 4 August for military aid.⁹² The question of military strategy for the defence of neutral Belgium was thus to prove problematic for both France and Britain prior to 94. While refusing to engage in military conversations with either of the Entente powers, Belgium nonetheless expected to be protected by these powers should its territory be invaded. From the military point of view, it was a very difficult task for either the French or the British to estab-

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lish a coordinated defence arrangement under these conditions. Lack of any prewar joint planning and differing conceptions for the defence of the territory would make for a very difficult liaison with Anglo-French forces at the outbreak of war.⁹³ The failure of the French, British, and Belgian staffs to coordinate their defensive plan properly prior to 94 may be seen as an important factor in the initial defeats, since the combined forces of the three countries were approximately equal to those of Germany.⁹⁴ With the failure of French strategy to guard the Channel ports in the first great battles of the war in August and September 94, French and British strategies were put to the test with the German bombardment of Antwerp in late September and October 94. British strategy, in direct defence of British interests, was to come to the aid of the beleaguered Belgian army in the defence of Antwerp. This strategy was in opposition to Joffre’s plan to defend France by victories in the field against the German army and to have the Belgian force fall back to join with the French when assailed by the Germans. These conflicting strategies reflected competing political interests as the two countries manoeuvred for later control of the small country. British strategy would maintain British influence and control of the Belgian army, while Joffre’s strategy would subject the Belgian army to French control and bolster French interests. Amid bitter recriminations, French strategy prevailed, and ultimately the French gained the upper hand over the British in the quest for control of Belgium, which the French staff intended to include in the postwar French defensive system.⁹⁵

Conclusion British and French prewar defence policies provided the matrix from which their military strategies derived up to 94 and during the war. French grand strategy before 94 was to rely on the strength of the French army and to engage French allies, the Russians in particular and the British as far as possible, in any future conflict with Germany. The strategic imperatives of Great Britain, a vast commercial and maritime empire, were very different from those of France. For Great Britain, with its focus on sea power and defence of the empire, independence of action was of prime importance. British global interests required a global strategy, while France was concerned mainly with continental defence.

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Only the German threat drew the two powers together in an uneasy partnership, a partnership based on self-interest rather than any specific commitment.⁹⁶ The legacy of prewar defence policies weighed heavily on the shoulders of prewar planning and the future commanders in the field. The threat of a common enemy had led the British to draw up contingency plans with the French for joint defence, but without any political commitment. The uncertainties and ambiguities of this arrangement raised numerous difficulties for prewar military planners on both sides of the Channel. And differing long-term policy objectives were bound to give rise to conflicting strategic objectives once the war began. The defence of neutral Belgium was to prove particularly problematic – for the French out of deference for British interests, which forbade an immediate offensive, and strategically for both Entente partners, because the small country was unwilling to make concerted plans with any power. Here again, competing political interests would flare up in conflicting strategies when the French operational plans failed in the first clashes with the enemy to defend vital British interests.

C H A P T E R t wo

Entente Strategic Planning after 9

The relationship between foreign policy and domestic politics proved to be relatively complex in both France and Great Britain as defence policy was translated into Entente military planning prior to the First World War. The first Moroccan crisis in 905 and subsequent events had laid the foundation for Anglo-French military and naval conversations within the Entente cordiale.¹ But it was the detailed military planning between the two powers after the 9 Moroccan crisis that provided the immediate basis for the operation of the wartime coalition. While the defence policies of the two countries provided the framework for joint military planning, the interplay of domestic politics, military thought, and personalities had a significant impact on the joint planning process. In a close military coalition in which two or more armies are destined to operate together on the same field, many factors may affect future command relationships. For the British, whose fortunes would be inextricably tied up with the success of the larger French army, the size and preparation of that army, its military doctrines, its operational plan, and the quality of its leadership would be of vital importance. For the French, the likelihood of British involvement, the extent of British participation, the staging area of British deployment and its timing would all be vital issues. The joint arrangements worked out between the two staffs would provide the groundwork for future cooperation but would be effective only to the extent that these reflected the political and military realities of each nation’s defence policy and covered vital aspects of future command relations. Existing relationships between military chiefs and the

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images and stereotypes existing between the political and military leaders of the two countries would also have a significant bearing on future command relations. The anomalies of French military planning, coupled with the uncertainties of British policy, meant that while the basis was laid for later cooperation in the field, the fault lines for a number of problems were barely concealed.

The French Army after Agadir The nationalist wave that swept France in the aftermath of the Agadir crisis in 9 – the second Franco-German confrontation over Morocco, which threatened to engulf Europe in war – gave new impetus to war preparedness and led to major changes in the French army.² Both the doctrinal underpinning of French military thought and the organization structure underwent major adjustments as the French now prepared for the very real danger of war. In early 9 the leading generals of the Republic – under the influence of the earlier writings of Charles Ardant du Picq and the theoretical affirmations of General Ferdinand Foch, Lieutenant-Colonel Louis Loyseau de Grandmaison, and others – converted to aggressive strategic doctrine and, as a result, revolted against the defensive-offensive strategy of General Victor Michel, the commander-in-chief designate. The conversion of the incoming war minister, Adolphe Messimy, to the new doctrine, plus the resistance of senior generals in the Conseil supérieur de la guerre (War Board) to a radical plan by Michel to pair reserve regiments with active regiments in order to defend the entire Belgian-French frontier, led to Michel’s dismissal. In July, at the height of the Agadir Crisis, General Joseph Joffre was appointed to the position with a mandate to implement offensive doctrine. With the support of nationalist sentiment, which now brushed aside the danger of a military coup by concentrating too much authority in the hands of one general, Messimy gave Joffre the offices of both commander-in-chief designate and chief of the General Staff, with sweeping authority over the peacetime army and full responsibility for its preparation for war.³ This was a major adjustment in French civil-military relations, considering the uneasy and often strained relationship that had existed since the early days of the Third Republic. The issue of republicanizing the bonapartist French army had arisen with the formation of the Third Republic and had become more acute when the elections of 876 closed

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the door on any possible return to the monarchy. During the Boulanger Affair in the late 880s, the risk of subversion of the Republic and dictatorship by a popular general demonstrated the need for greater civilian control. The French political-military structure set up as a result was designed to assure ministerial control and to prevent the concentration of too much power in the hands of one military leader. Within the Conseil supérieur de la guerre, which functioned under the presidency of the war minister, the offices of commander-in-chief designate (also vicechairman of the Conseil supérieur) and chief of staff of the army, who had responsibility for the material preparation of the army and war plans, had been separated to assure civilian control in military planning.⁴ While the democratization of the army under a largely aristocratic officer corps had occasioned a sometimes uneasy civil-military relationship in the early days of the Republic, the rise of the anti-clerical radicals in the late 890s had set the two sides on a collision course. The Dreyfus Affair at the end of the century pitted the radical republic against its deeply conservative, dominantly Catholic, and unreforming military hierarchy in a bitter drawn-out clash. Severe civil-military conflict again erupted in 904–05 when Radical War Minister Louis André, during the famous affaire des fiches, attempted to deny promotion to practising Catholics, and this conflict continued to simmer in subsequent years.⁵ Though largely middle class in composition, the French officer corps remained aristocratic in ethos and maintained a deep-seated antirepublicanism, with loyalty to the French state but little attachment to successive anti-clerical regimes.⁶ The breach between civil and military authorities was temporarily bridged in 9 with the appointment of Joffre as chief of the General Staff. A general with good Republican credentials, his military views nonetheless were those of the French centre and right in opposition to the Jaurès Socialists, making him vulnerable to criticism from the left. After the 94 elections, the Socialists – just over a hundred deputies – were the largest group in the Chamber of Deputies. For the short war that was anticipated, Joffre would receive a further mandate of power at the outset of hostilities.⁷ But the long, simmering feud between French civil and military authorities was almost certain to erupt along partisan lines under the stress of a long war. In the 9 flurry of institutional restructuring, the subordination of military planning to national policy was assured by revitalization of the Conseil supérieur de la défense nationale (Superior Council of

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National Defence), set up in 906 to advise the government on all aspects of national defence. This body consisted of the president of the Republic and key ministers, including the prime minister, foreign minister, finance minister, navy and army ministers and the service chiefs.⁸ The limitation it imposed on Joffre’s power proved beneficial in that it kept diplomatic considerations in the forefront. In 9 Joffre adopted a variant of Plan XVI , providing for an immediate offensive against Germany, only after being assured of Italy’s likely neutrality and receiving assurances of immediate Russian support in East Prussia.⁹ He was likewise prevented a year later, as discussed in the last chapter, from planning for an immediate offensive across Belgium, in deference to British interests. Joffre brought to his new post important strengths and some tangible weaknesses. Messimy’s third choice, behind Generals Joseph Gallieni and Paul Pau, who proved unacceptable for a variety of reasons, Joffre had political qualifications that fitted in well with the anti-clerical petit bourgeois character of the Third Republic. The son of a prosperous barrel maker, a lapsed mason, with political connections with the Sarraut brothers and the Radical Party, he was experienced politically and was to prove skilful in diplomatic matters.¹⁰ At age fifty-nine, he was younger than his colleagues, and having served most of his career in the colonies he had an impressive record as a military engineer in Tonkin and Madagascar, as well as command experience in a colonial expedition in West Africa. After more than a year’s command of a corps in France, he had been appointed director of support services in early 90. As an engineer, with peacetime command experience in France, Joffre was relatively well prepared for the role of commander-in-chief, notably possessing expertise in railway manoeuvres, which could be decisive in an age of mass armies.¹¹ However, by his own admission, he lacked the necessary staff experience to handle the broad range of responsibilities conferred upon him as chief of the General Staff. To compensate for this deficiency, he insisted that General Édouard de Curières de Castelnau, an experienced staff officer, serve as his deputy chief of staff.¹² A politically astute, hard-working military bureaucrat, Joffre possessed a strong sense of responsibility and a commensurate love for the untrammelled exercise of power. Above all, he possessed a high degree of self-confidence, which enabled him quietly to turn near-disaster into victory, as in the retreat from the frontiers in August 94.¹³ Tall, massive, untidy, this uncharacteristic Frenchman from the south of France,

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with blue eyes and blond hair, spoke slowly, with few gestures, and often appeared silent and imponderable to his associates as he ripened decisions within the confines of his office.¹⁴ Others who attended meetings or conferences with him found him an “intelligent, articulate proponent of his ideas,” including British Prime Minister David Lloyd George, who commented on the “forceful and dramatic” quality of his oral presentation.¹⁵ Joffre’s first task was to imbue the army with the spirit of the offensive, in which he largely succeeded through extensive staff manoeuvres and through the rewriting of the service manuals.¹⁶ In line with offensive thought, Joffre, with the backing of the political centre and right, advocated a highly disciplined army of regular corps, in contrast to the reservist militia advocated by the political left.¹⁷ This approach led to the serious neglect of reserve units, which proved so powerful a tool in the German army at the start of the war. Offensive doctrine also influenced French decision makers to neglect such defensive preparations as the maintenance of fortifications and, more significantly, the updating of the French arsenal in heavy guns, leaving them highly vulnerable to their better-equipped German enemies.¹⁸ But ministerial instability and the bureaucratic structures of the War Ministry, with its web of competing committees, also hampered and delayed many of Joffre’s efforts to modernize the army, including the upgrading of its complement of heavy artillery.¹⁹ While obscuring the need for heightened material preparation of the French army, offensive doctrine tended nevertheless to boost morale, inspiring French officers and soldiers, after suffering reverses, to turn and fight again, as on the Marne.²⁰ The French adoption of offensive doctrine had important implications for relations with the British government and command. At the outbreak of the war, French offensive doctrine would immediately pit the defensive-minded Lord Horatio Herbert Kitchener, British secretary of state for war, against the French Command. The command and staff of the British Expeditionary Force, on the other hand, were divided evenly between advocates of the offensive and those more cautious in approach. The deficiencies in French preparations and planning which grew out of offensive doctrine also had an impact on the British. Since the latter were compelled to fight side by side with the French, British fortunes were inextricably tied to those of the French. But the vast disparity between the size of the French army and that of the British Expeditionary Force meant that the British would be subject to French direction. Imperious

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by nature, Joffre would expect the British Expeditionary Force to perform as merely another army under his command – to the great dismay of his British counterparts. In the prewar period, France faced a manpower shortage relative to Germany, whose population had risen to 67 million (by 93) in comparison with 39 million for France. To counter German reinforcements to their regular army in 92, Joffre proposed the enactment of the Three-Year Law, which extended mandatory military service by one year. Allowing for a diversion to the Russian front of 75,000, or onefifth of the active German force of 870,000, the measure, by boosting French active forces to 700,000, would restore rough equality between active French and German forces on the French front. Ostensibly aimed at warding off the dangers of an attaque brusquée, the measure was also intended to strengthen the Russian alliance. The bill was carried through the Chamber in mid-93 on the wave of nationalist sentiment sweeping France, as centrist Radicals gave it their support.²¹ The passage of this measure was indicative of how seriously the manpower deficiency played on French minds. Lack of effectives was an underlying concern that drove French efforts to secure unstinted Russian support and maximum British participation in any future war. Efforts to draw in colonial troops and ensure their arrival in France were motivated by similar considerations. The backlash that followed the decline in nationalist fervour led to a Socialist victory in the spring elections of 94 and, with the drop off of Radical support, threatened the Three-Year Law. Only with difficulty was Poincaré able to find a ministry under Independent Socialist René Viviani, who promised not to rescind the law.²² The Socialist victory also threatened to topple Joffre, who was to be replaced in the autumn by General Maurice Sarrail, the darling of the left.²³ Joffre was saved only by the outbreak of war.

British Strategy and the Entente Cordiale after 9 The Agadir Crisis provoked a less dramatic public reaction in Great Britain than in France, but it did prompt closer staff talks with the French and increased the likelihood of continental intervention in the case of British involvement in a European war. These talks, however, reflected

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less the circumspect shifts in British policy than the personal agenda of Brigadier General Sir Henry Wilson, the British director of military operations after 90, who played a central role in these developments. French-speaking, ardently francophile, a friend of Foch, and a convert to offensive doctrine, Wilson gave new impetus to staff talks with the French. But reflecting his own views rather than those of his government, he gave the French a badly misleading picture of British enthusiasm for intervention.²⁴ Wilson was a curious blend of enviable qualities and visible foibles, some of which impaired his ability to perform his tasks properly, both before and in the early months of the war. Lanky, horse-faced, loosetongued, and contemptuous of superiors, the Anglo-Irish Wilson, at forty-six, was a notorious practitioner of political intrigue, mostly with Conservative politicians, to the chagrin of Asquith, the Liberal prime minister. Yet Wilson possessed considerable ability as a staff officer and had an admirable devotion to duty, which contrasted favourably with the dilettantism of portions of the British aristocratic officer corps.²⁵ While the two Entente powers were equals overall, so far as military relationships were concerned, the British, because of their small military contribution (a maximum of six infantry divisions compared with seventy-two for the French) found themselves far outclassed by the French. Almost no one anticipated a long war in which British manpower potential might be the decisive factor. The tenuous nature of the Entente cordiale, and the French General Staff’s lack of appreciation for the role of sea power in a continental war, ensured that Britain’s naval superiority never righted the perceived imbalance.²⁶ The French, moreover, had a more vital interest in the defence of French territory than the British. Consequently, with regard to military planning on the Continent, the British found themselves relegated to the role of junior partners in the arrangement. Because of the French army’s tradition of military greatness and the smallness of the British army, French military planners assumed an aura of superiority in dealing with the British.²⁷ The French decision to deploy British forces on the French left wing close to the Channel ports nevertheless took into account vital British interests. In Joffre’s words, deployment of the British force “had been envisaged for the place logically reserved for it, on the left wing of the French Armies, which it would thus extend.”²⁸ Logistically, it was advantageous for the deployment and supply of British forces to locate them

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near their debarkation ports and also to allocate rail lines that would not crisscross those reserved for use by French forces. It made even better sense politically to place British forces in a position to defend directly vital British interests in the Channel ports. Strategically, the British force, according to French calculation, would be able to extend the French left wing in a flank attack on German forces advancing in a narrow arc across Belgium. Wilson engaged in joint consultation with the French staff, but given the military imbalance in the relationship, discussions were very lopsided. The French made their plans and then advised the British where they could best deploy their forces. Highly deferential to the French, Wilson’s chief error was to discount the possibility of a wide German sweep across Belgium and to fall in uncritically with French appraisals and planning. His main concern was to ensure that British forces were deployed at the right place and in time to conform with French movements.²⁹ To the French desire to obtain the maximum participation from their British allies was thus added a second objective: to have British forces conform to French strategic direction. The 906 plans had provided for British deployment of the British Expeditionary Force in a reserve role to the rear of French forces, with an indefinite concentration zone. In July 9 Wilson worked out detailed plans with the French for the forward deployment on the French left wing of the BEF, which was to consist of six divisions and one cavalry division, totalling 50,000 men. Rouen and Le Havre would replace the more distant port of Cherbourg as ports of debarkation, and the force would assemble in the St Quentin–Cambrai–Arras area by the thirteenth day of mobilization.³⁰ Responding to the increasing cordiality of the talks, Joffre shared more strategic information with the British than his predecessors had, revealing to Wilson in September his concentration plan and sharing intelligence reports. Having come to believe that the British would participate with the French in the first battles of the war, Joffre integrated British assistance into his revision of Plan XVI for the forward deployment of the French army. He thus asked Wilson to move the British staging area slightly forward to the Maubeuge–Le Cateau–Hirson area, so that the British force would be in position to fall on the left flank of the German force which, Joffre anticipated, would advance into Belgium south of the Meuse River.³¹

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But the Committee of Imperial Defence in London had yet to resolve the long-standing conflict between the army-centred strategy of continental intervention in support of France and the dominant naval strategy, which advocated blockade of enemy ports and raids on the enemy’s coast. At a crucial meeting of the committee on 23 August 9, at the height of the Agadir Crisis, Wilson argued that Britain held in its hands the fate of France and, by immediate British intervention, would be able to prevent German domination of the Continent. Convinced with the French staff that Germany would confine its advance to the east of the Meuse, Wilson argued that the BEF, strategically located on the French left, would be able to deliver a decisive blow against the German right flank. Sustaining the French view on likely German deployments, Wilson brushed aside concerns raised by Winston Churchill, then home secretary, and Sir John French about the dangers for a British force on the French left in the event of a wide German sweep through Belgium. Wilson’s strategy for deployment of the BEF, to which the committee tacitly assented, was confirmed by Asquith’s appointment of Churchill, an interventionist, as First Lord of the Admiralty a short while later.³² But actual plans for the Royal Navy to deploy the BEF to France were not made until 93.³³ Important leaders, moreover, did not unanimously endorse Wilson’s military views on the pivotal role of the BEF. Churchill believed a force of 290,000 British troops would be required by the fortieth day to tip the balance. Kitchener, not present at the meeting, thought “the Germans would beat the French.”³⁴ Ironically, because of Kitchener’s low assessment of French capabilities, later, as secretary of state for war he would be more prone than his colleagues to favour larger commitments to French defence in order to maintain the continental balance. Furthermore, the strategy of intervention in Belgium, which the prime minister believed required further study, continued to be discussed between Wilson and Churchill and was favoured by Sir John French, who was appointed the next year as chief of the Imperial General Staff.³⁵ The project was suspended only in 92 when the Belgians, suspicious of British intentions since the formation of the Entente cordiale, curtly refused military discussions with the British and French for fear of violating their neutrality and inviting a German invasion.³⁶ The staff plan worked up by Wilson for going to the aid of France was thus the only one in existence when war broke out in 94. To hastily contrive another could only be fraught with serious difficulty. But in Sir John French’s cal-

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culation, the deployment of the BEF on the French left could also serve as a preliminary step for marching into Belgium along the French coast.³⁷ Politically, British interventionist policy remained on very shaky ground. The chief menace came from the radical wing of the ruling Liberal Party and a pacifist public, profoundly opposed to any form of intervention. In 9, when radical ministers got wind of the military staff conversations with the French, they provoked a cabinet crisis, which resulted in a clear statement on the lack of British commitment to the French and the renewal of talks with Germany on a possible rapprochement. The 92 Haldane talks with Germany again foundered nonetheless, as the Germans were prepared to drop the naval race only in exchange for a pledge of British neutrality in the event of a continental war – a pledge which the British were not prepared to give.³⁸ The German Navy Law of 92, which followed the breakdown of those talks as discussed in the last chapter, led to the resumption of AngloFrench naval conversations.³⁹ But Poincaré, who sought to use these naval talks to solidify the Entente cordiale, failed in his ultimate quest for a British alliance, since the British were unwilling to make a political commitment. He succeeded, nonetheless, in obtaining a British promise to consult in time of crisis and then, if mutual action was decided, to take into account previous staff and naval conversations.⁴⁰ Thus, Germany’s menacing attitude during the Agadir Crisis, followed by the buildup of its naval power, provided the impetus for the solidifying of a quasialliance between Great Britain and France – one with military and naval staff arrangements but without any specific political obligation on the part of the British. An additional threat to the dispatch of the expeditionary force centred on the Irish Question, which dominated British public life in the summer of 94. A major crisis in civil-military relations had arisen that spring when fifty-eight officers of the Cavalry Brigade at Curragh in Ireland offered their resignation rather than impose on Ulster the government’s policy of Irish home rule, and they had garnered the support of high-ranking military leaders, among them Wilson, Sir John French, and his adjutant-general Sir Spencer Ewart. While French, Ewart, and J.E.B. Seeley, the secretary of state for war, resigned, Wilson retained his post as director of military operations, but he intrigued with the opposition and the press against government policy.⁴¹ Wilson thus blackened his reputation with the Asquith government, causing serious problems

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at a later date for Anglo-French military cooperation. While the French feared that this shake-up in the British army’s top leadership threatened its cohesion and morale, an even greater concern was that further embroilment of the army in Ireland, where it already served as a police force, would limit its availability for action on the Continent.⁴²

Plan XVII and the British Plan XVII , the new French concentration plan adopted in 93, was drawn up exclusively by the French General Staff but took into account British policy in Europe and made provision for uncertain British participation alongside the French. The plan’s predecessor, the 909 defensive-offensive Plan XVI , had concentrated five armies along the FrancoGerman border from Belfort to Vouziers, with a sixth army to the rear at Chalons-sur-Marne, and retained twelve reserve divisions in the rear and two active army corps on the Italian front. In 9 Joffre modified the plan (variant  of Plan XVI) by shifting more troops to the northeast, as Italy was expected to remain neutral and Russia had promised to strike against East Prussia by the sixteenth day of mobilization. While extending his left wing as far as Mézières, he nevertheless failed to consider the possibility of a wide German sweep through Belgium.⁴³ The French General Staff found it difficult to plan around the uncertainties of British policy, which remained ambiguous throughout the Joffre period. Most difficult for Joffre was the defence of neutral Belgium, which provided the obvious venue for the sort of large offensive action against Germany that he desired, but which had declared that it would support whatever side did not first violate its neutrality. As was seen in the last chapter, in 92 Joffre was forced to abandon the Belgian option when faced with the opposition of his government, which had decided that the need for British support ruled out any violation of Belgian neutrality before Germany invaded. As a result, he was obliged to adapt his plan – either to seek less desirable military conditions elsewhere⁴⁴ or to wait until German violation of Belgian territory permitted him to operate freely in the neutral state.⁴⁵ The second major difficulty for the French staff in drawing up their new plan was uncertainty about British participation and whether it would be early enough to play a role in the first great battles. The inability of Poincaré to obtain any assurance of British support in 92, and the

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cautious tenor of military reports, dampened French ardour about likely British support. Consequently, Plan XVII , completed in 93, unlike Joffre’s 9 plan did not assume British participation in the early battles of the war. Rather, Joffre saw British intervention primarily as a form of insurance, a contingency plan prepared to meet a variety of circumstances, including that of a German attack through Belgium.⁴⁶ The hope nonetheless remained, as demonstrated in the forward deployment of the BEF in joint planning, that the British – if they came in – would deploy simultaneously with the French.⁴⁷ Plan XVII , based on offensive strategy, was little more than an update of the offensive variant of Plan XVI , deploying four armies forward along the German frontier, stretching from Belfort to Mézières, with a fifth in the rear at Bar-le-Duc, capable of being brought forward to either left or right. The plan, while leaving ultimate strategic choices to the French commander-in-chief, provided the necessary troop deployment for Joffre’s strategy of launching offensives in Lorraine and through the Ardennes to form a pincer around the fortified Metz-Thionville region.⁴⁸ While Plan XVII has been much criticized for its a priori offensives, more recent assessment has been more favourable, noting that its offensive posture contained within it the idea of manoeuvre.⁴⁹ The great fault of the new plan was that it did not adequately address the defence of the Franco-Belgian frontier, providing only for a minor German incursion into Belgian territory east of the Meuse. The French staff in the prewar period discounted reliable intelligence on the concentration of the Germans’ railway facilities on the Belgian frontier and their preference for flank attacks in war games, which indicated German preparations for a wide sweep through Belgium.⁵⁰ The French also disregarded intelligence that German reserve units were to be employed in operations on the same footing as active units. The French staff naively assumed, on the basis of their appraisal of French reserve units – which were much less well officered and equipped than their German counterparts – that German reserve units were unprepared for use in initial offensive manoeuvres and therefore that the Germans lacked the forces necessary for a wide sweep across Belgium.⁵¹ The French were wholly surprised in August 94 to find one strong German army and part of another beyond their extreme left as a result of the German use of thirteen corps of reserve formations for offensive operations.⁵² The failure to assess German capabilities properly was a costly mistake, not only for

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the initial success of the French army but doubly so for the BEF, concentrated in a forward zone on the French left. The details for British concentration on the French left were worked out under Wilson’s energetic impetus in March 93, just before Plan XVII ’s final approval. The BEF, which was to consist of six infantry and one cavalry divisions, would disembark at Rouen, Le Havre, and Boulogne, and move by rail to its staging area in the Maubeuge–Le Cateau–Hirson triangle by the sixteenth day of mobilization. The forward concentration zone of the BEF underlined continuing French hopes for its early arrival. Though not spelled out officially, the BEF ’s mission was to fall on the German flank as the German army executed a minor violation of Belgian territory below the Meuse.⁵³ Failing to take into account the danger of a wide German sweep, French planning thus left the small British force, assembled in a contingency role, to meet the might of one and then two full German armies, with potentially disastrous consequences. Another major failure in Anglo-French prewar planning with serious consequences was not to spell out clearly the relationship between the French and British commands. In 906 a subcommittee of the Committee of Imperial Defence had dealt with this difficult issue by proposing the ambiguous formula that “in the event of the British force being employed on the French frontier, its status would be that of an independent force under the general control of the French Commander In Chief.”⁵⁴ The assumption in verbal staff communications prior to the war was that a British admiral would command at sea and a French general would command on land, but nothing was ever put in writing to this effect.⁵⁵ The French staff, reviewing the status of Anglo-French staff talks, came the closest to a definition when it specified in a note to the French government in March 92 that “coordination of the operations of the English Army with the French Armies of the North-East will be assured by directives emanating from the Commander-in-Chief of the French forces operating in this theatre and addressed to the Chief of the English troops.”⁵⁶ While a system of liaison officers had been anticipated to communicate between headquarters,⁵⁷ the absence of a recognized formula for unity of command, so vital to the effective operation of a coalition, would open the door to the risky interplay of personalities and jeopardize the interoperability of the two armies.⁵⁸ The French presumption of leadership in the vague prewar formulations, when coupled with

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independent British action, was certain to be the source of much conflict, especially under conditions of stress on the battlefield.

Relationships, Attitudes, and Images While less tangible than physical arrangements, the relationships established between key military personalities, who would later play major roles in the conduct of the war, were crucial to future relations. Likewise, the attitudes and images held by the two potential allies of each other helped shape their social interaction and often governed how they responded to one another in specific instances. While French officers tended to assume an attitude of superiority in dealing with their British counterparts, much progress was made in the decade before the war in establishing amiable personal interactions. Wilson in his several trips to France established friendships with Foch, Joffre, Castelnau, and others. Sir John French visited manoeuvres in France in 908, 9, and 93, as did his eventual successor as commander of the BEF, Sir Douglas Haig, in 94. Both established a cordial relationship with Foch, who visited English manoeuvres in 92, followed by Castelnau a year later. Both military attachés in London, Colonel Victor Huguet, who served a decade in that position, and Lieutenant-Colonel Arthus de la Panouse, his successor, enjoyed cordial relations with British military circles. These contacts, as well as several at lower staff levels, served to break down prejudices and suspicions and to build a relationship of trust and confidence. But regrettably, Joffre’s association with the British was mainly through Wilson and the military attachés, giving him a distinct lack of personal acquaintances in the British army.⁵⁹ French officers were much impressed with the lifestyle of their aristocratic British counterparts, with their “luxurious mess, quantities of silverplate, and teams of polo ponies, all maintained by private means,” and despite the occasional “hint of republican disapproval” had no difficulty falling in socially. The British officer corps, most French observers agreed, was less dilettante and more “studious and professional” than in times past.⁶⁰ French observers at manoeuvres nonetheless reported that British commanders seemed unfamiliar with the handling of large units and would probably show “hesitant movements and an indecisive manner” in battle.⁶¹ British officers of the aristocratic class, on the other hand, were less impressed with their middle-class French counterparts,

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whom they thought during the war had no sense of gentlemanly conduct, were scheming, small-minded, and indirect. They particularly resented the imperious attitude of the French and their desire to dominate militarily.⁶² One persistent image, shaped in the prewar period by the assessments of Foch and Huguet on the nature of British public opinion and temperament, was that the British would be “slow and late.” Slow to see their interests, they would not intervene on the Continent until they were sure where their interests lay. Another persistent image, based on French assessment of the phlegmatic nature of British character, was that the British would be stolid warriors, persistent once engaged, and therefore likely to go on to victory, but not well suited for offensive warfare without French support. However, the French recognized the value of the British army, a small but well-trained professional fighting force that could provide a substantial reinforcement to the French army and even tip the numerical scale in their favour. Moreover, British participation would strengthen French morale and provide a form of insurance should the war become prolonged.⁶³ Still, prejudices remained; centuries of bitter rivalry could not be forgotten in a single decade, and French fears of “perfidious Albion,” which manipulated the continental balance for its own interest, were never far from the surface in even the most ardent anglophiles. Foch, for example, despite his friendship with the British, predicted that Great Britain, lacking a large army to defend its interests, would follow the policy of making agreements with continental powers with larger land forces in order “to ask much of them and, on the day of reckoning, bring them little.” Britain, he observed, “only respects us because of our large army.”⁶⁴ Others on Joffre’s wartime staff were out-and-out anglophobes, including General Henri Berthelot, his assistant chief of staff, Major Maurice Gamelin, his aide-de-camp, and especially General Charles Lanrezac, who was to command the French Fifth Army next to the British. But their influence was not sufficient to poison Joffre’s moderate attitude toward the English totally.⁶⁵ The British for their part had serious misgivings about the French as alliance partners, though most agreed on the strength of the French army. British observers at French and German manoeuvres were of the opinion that “French qualities of dash and élan and superior French tactics” made them “more than a match for the rather wooden German

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ones.”⁶⁶ The one exception was Kitchener, who having fought as a volunteer in the French army in 87, thought (in 9) that the Germans would march through the French “like partridges.”⁶⁷ What the British feared most was the instability of the French political system, with its numerous political parties, which had given rise to no less than twelve governments between 90 and 94. Many British observers, according to David French, “were baffled by French politics” and thought the instability of the government made it unable to weather a serious crisis.⁶⁸ Concerned with the volatility of French public life, the British feared “that French public opinion lacked the cohesion needed to see it through a war.” The most feared and distrusted man in France was Joseph Caillaux, leader of the leftist Radicals, who had negotiated a settlement with the Germans in 9 behind the back his own foreign ministry. That he and the so-called Valois group might make a political comeback and lead the French out of the war was a constant source of concern for British planners after the outbreak of hostilities.⁶⁹

Conclusion Prewar defence policies played a decisive role in defining the terms of Entente military planning. As earlier noted, French grand strategy was to rely on the strength of the French army and to engage French allies, the Russians in particular and the British as far as possible, in any future conflict with Germany. Great Britain, on the other hand, wished to maintain its independence of action in defence of its empire but attempted to hedge its bets for continental defence by prewar contingency planning with the French. While the Anglo-French Entente cordiale laid the basis for the Anglo-French military planning, the tenuous nature and ambiguities of British policy gave rise to serious problems in joint planning as French military planners attempted to cope with the uncertainties of British participation. Contingency staff arrangements for British deployment revolving around French strategic planning were all that was possible in the circumstances. Domestic politics and personalities, nevertheless, played a considerable role in shaping the Entente military planning process. Given the smallness of their force and its uncertain participation, it was almost certain that the British would be considered the junior partner on land and that strategic planning would be shaped predominantly by the French. But

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Wilson’s approach assured that British interests and intelligence would be muted more than was required. Additionally, the preparation of the French army and the formulation of its strategic plan were influenced by a host of internal political factors, French offensive strategy, and the unique imprint of Joffre’s leadership. Linked inextricably to the French strategic plan, the British Expeditionary Force would both benefit from the strengths and be hostage to the weaknesses of French preparation and planning. The most serious shortcoming in French military planning was failure to provide for an adequate defence of Belgium, the result of French miscalculations about German capabilities and intentions. Entente prewar planning, which put the BEF in a forward position on the French left, thus placed the British force in the most dangerous part of the line. A second major difficulty in Entente planning was the failure to define command relations in any meaningful way in prewar talks. In a time of trouble, old attitudes of mutual suspicion and mistrust, conditioned by centuries of conflict and reinforced by traditional attitudes and stereotypes, were bound to reassert themselves between newly minted allies. The groundwork was thus laid for misunderstanding, acrimony, and the difficult coordination of armies in the field, even before the first shot was fired.

CHAPTER three

War: Power Relationships within the Coalition, August–November 94

By 4 August 94 both France and Great Britain had entered into that cataclysmic conflict called the Great War – or the First World War, as it became known after a worse cataclysm twenty years later.¹ The transition to a wartime footing in each country was fraught with serious difficulty, since neither was expecting war in the summer of 94 and only the most rudimentary of plans had been made for such a contingency. It was the vacation season. Domestic politics dominated the political stage with the normal controversy on divisive issues in each democracy as the July crisis unfolded. In both countries, in spite of serious divisions on the question of war and peace, a national consensus in favour of the war was forged, largely as an unwitting gift from Germany, which appeared to be the aggressor. Public opinion in both countries was thus prepared to defer all outstanding political and social issues in favour of a united war effort.² With the advent of war, the issues of concentration of executive power and political-military relations had to be considered within each government and the structure of each command established. Both countries faced the dilemma of how to concentrate power in the hands of a few for the successful prosecution of war while maintaining the necessary safeguards of democracy. Responses were largely experimental, as neither country had had any recent experience in the conduct of a major war. The solutions adopted provided the basis for civil-military relations

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within each state and the framework for the operation of the coalition during the phase of movement on the Western Front. The outbreak of war in August 94 provided the signal in both France and Great Britain for the strengthening of executive power. In both countries the normal reservations that might have accompanied the concentration of power were swept aside by the universal belief in a short war. There was one major difference. In France, the Cabinet delegated much of the vast authority vested in it to the French High Command. In Great Britain, the Cabinet resolutely retained power, which was wielded largely by the secretary of state for war, Lord Kitchener, while the prerogatives of the commander-in-chief of the British Expeditionary Force in France were narrowly circumscribed. Out of these differing power relationships developed many of the unique aspects of the coalition on the Western Front.

Government and Command in France The French Third Republic at the beginning of the twentieth century was a petit-bourgeois democracy, characterized by vigorous public discussion and a wide spectrum of political parties and groupings. In peacetime, the Chamber of Deputies was the centre of power, with governments, based on shifting coalitions of parties and groups, lasting on average only nine months prior to 94. Numerous and sometimes overlapping parliamentary commissions studied the issues and advised the Chamber and the Senate. The shared policies of dominant blocs led by a political elite of seasoned leaders and a well-trained professional bureaucracy nevertheless provided continuity of policy on many issues. The regime was to prove remarkably flexible and resilient when faced with the supreme test of war in 94.³ The established practice since the 877 MacMahon crisis (in which President Patrice MacMahon had failed in his bid to deny the elected majority party its rightful role as government) was for the president of the Republic to act largely as a figurehead, with limited direct authority. But Raymond Poincaré, elected president in early 93, favoured a stronger presidential role to ease the divisiveness of domestic politics. The Constitution in fact spelled out a broad range of powers for the president. In addition to choosing the prime minister, the president was the

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commander-in-chief, had authority to negotiate and ratify treaties, and had a special influence in naming the foreign minister and the war minister. While the president presided at cabinet meetings, most measures had to be countersigned by a minister, giving the Cabinet ultimate control.⁴ A lawyer by training, Raymond Poincaré was legalistic and focused on detail but was analytical, hard working, and thoroughgoing in the pursuit of his goals. Outwardly cold, he was relatively amiable in private. The strengths of his leadership fitted him well for the expanded role of guiding governmental policy and assuming greater authority in a time of crisis.⁵ The government of Independent Socialist René Viviani, constituted in June 94 to maintain the Three-Year Law after the leftward shift in the April–May elections, was relatively weak. Well versed in domestic politics, Viviani assumed the office of foreign minister, though he was virtually ignorant of foreign affairs. This enabled Poincaré to retain effective control of foreign policy. Viviani suffered from neuroasthenia, a nervous disorder that tended to flare up in times of stress,⁶ and the war minister Adolphe Messimy, though experienced in the position, became agitated and flighty under the stress of war.⁷ The French president thus “steadied the ark” in a fuller exercise of his powers. Although frequently complaining in his diary about the constitutional limitations of his office, Poincaré took effective control in the management of the prewar crisis and later played a vital role in guiding the war effort.⁸ The question of the separation of church and state having been decided in the early years of the century, the major long-term issue before the country in 94 was that of the income tax, which finally cleared the Senate in mid-July. Lesser issues such as proportional representation were also under discussion. Ironically, a debate erupted in the Senate in mid-July based on a Senate army committee report underscoring the deficiencies of French heavy artillery relative to that of Germany – but too late for corrective action.⁹ The chief focus of French public life in the summer of 94 was a recurring financial scandal surrounding the former finance minister, Joseph Caillaux, and the sensational interrelated murder trial of Henriette Caillaux, his wife. On 6 March, responding to a three-month press campaign against her husband in Le Figaro, Madame Caillaux, in a fit of rage, had shot and killed Gaston Calmette, its editor, in order to prevent the publication of politically damaging letters between Caillaux and his previous wife. All eyes were turned on the

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ensuing political trial, begun on 20 July, which eight days later resulted, after some possible political pressure on the judge, in Madame Caillaux’s acquittal.¹⁰ Following the 28 June murder of Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in Sarajevo, which soon moved from the headlines to thirdpage coverage in the newspapers, the general expectation within the French government and the public at large was that the diplomatic repercussions of the incident would be dealt with peacefully. As a result, Poincaré and Viviani embarked on 6 July on a two-week trip to Russia. They were thus out of the country as the crisis unfolded.¹¹ In preparation for a later international gathering, the socialist left, meeting in Paris on 4–6 July, though badly divided on the issue, endorsed a resolution by its leader Jean Jaurès in favour of a general strike to prevent a European war.¹² With the return of Poincaré and Viviani to France on 29 July, Poincaré, convinced that Viviani in his agitated state of mind would be “hesitant and pusillanimous,” took personal control of the situation, holding daily meetings with the Cabinet. Poincaré’s first concern was to moderate Russian actions to prevent war while at the same time maintaining support of the alliance. His second concern was to refrain from any provocative action and to give the utmost appearance that France was being forced into war by aggressive German policy. Poincaré’s intent was to shore up international support, particularly that of the British, whom he wished to engage as an ally, and to obtain unified domestic support for the war in a very divided political arena.¹³ In both objectives, Poincaré and the Viviani government were entirely successful. Following discussions between Poincaré, Viviani, Messimy, and Joffre “in which Poincaré played a prominent role,” the French Cabinet introduced a measure on 30 July compelling the French army to maintain a ten-kilometre no-trespass zone in advance of the German border. This measure, implemented in the face of Joffre’s mounting resistance, served to demonstrate both abroad and domestically the French government’s peaceful intentions. After the outbreak of war on  August following the twelve-hour German ultimatum to Russia, the French government refrained from declaring war on Germany and waited until the German government, on trumped-up charges of French violation of the German border, declared war on France on 3 August.¹⁴ As the crisis unfolded, French socialists, given their government’s visible restraint, had progressively begun to rally to the national cause, their

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patriotism taking precedence over internationalist sentiments. Then, on 3 July, their long-term leader Jean Jaurès was murdered as a socialist traitor by a deranged ultrarightist. With very considerable political astuteness, Poincaré expressed an outpouring of grief, coupled with a call for unity – a move followed by other leading figures – so that ultimately French socialists gave their wholehearted support and responded to Poincaré’s call on 2 August for a Union sacrée to fight the war. Domestic issues therefore were temporarily subordinated to the greater cause of defending la patrie. The government plan contained in Carnet B to arrest key members of the anti-war movement on the outbreak of war was set aside and not implemented.¹⁵ In France, the outbreak of hostilities in August 94 gave rise to bursts of enthusiasm in the capital, although, as Jean-Jacques Becker has shown, the general attitude across the country was one of grim resolution rather than enthusiasm.¹⁶ All political groups rallied to Poincaré’s call for a Union sacrée and adopted a political truce in favour of an energetic prosecution of the war.¹⁷ Even the socialists, despite their long-term internationalism, demonstrated their patriotism during the historic one-day parliamentary session of 4 August 94. The Chamber, seat of power in the peacetime operation of the Third Republic, relinquished many of its usual prerogatives to the Cabinet. During a single afternoon, eighteen measures were passed into law without debate, giving the Cabinet extensive powers for the direction of the war. These powers included the right to suspend freedom of the press and the power to spend and borrow without legislative approval. The session came to an end with cries of “Vive la France!,” “Vive la République!,” and one-third of the deputies trooped off to war with the lighthearted assurance that when the Chamber and Senate reconvened in January, the whole episode would be over.¹⁸ The political consensus of the nation had thus been formed and remained essentially intact until, shaken by the bloodletting at Verdun and on the Somme in the summer of 96, it collapsed following the spring offensive in 97.¹⁹ The parliamentarians, for their part, had decided as early as 905 that mobilizable deputies would become soldiers in the event of war. This meant the virtual cessation of parliamentary activity and, in consequence, a wide delegation of authority to the Cabinet for the prosecution of the war. This would also avoid the divisiveness of parliamentary discussion and debate. Most deputies agreed that for the short war antici-

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pated, the executive should in turn grant a wide range of powers to the High Command for the conduct of operations.²⁰ As the Radical deputy André Hesse declared in 9, echoing the dominant feeling in the Chamber, “When the guns begin to speak, it is best that the politicians keep quiet.”²¹ The government thus conferred a sweeping mandate of power on Joffre as commander-in-chief. Based on a broad political consensus and anchored in public opinion, this extensive grant of power was not seriously questioned until the beginning of parliamentary investigation and inspection in January 95.²² In the prewar period some guidelines had already been established to regulate the relationship between government and command in time of war. Responding to the same nationalistic fervour that had led to greatly increasing the authority of the chief of the General Staff over the army in peacetime, the French government in the prewar period envisaged granting even wider prerogatives for the conduct of operations in wartime. Marshal Patrice MacMahon’s failure at Sedan in 870 – where the Emperor Napoleon III had been obliged to surrender to the Prussians – was commonly held to be the consequence of undue government interference in operations. To fight the envisaged short “War of Movement” on land, full liberty of action would be required by the commanding general. In a short war, moreover, granting wide powers to the general(s)-inchief would entail few political risks. War Minister Eugène Etienne had thus prepared decrees in October and December 93 which, envisaging a multitheatre war, gave the commander of each theatre “full disposition” of the forces at his disposal while the government retained the right to set political objectives and allocate resources. These arrangements also conferred upon each commander dictatorial military rule within the army zone. This zone, it was assumed, would be largely in enemy territory.²³ The intention, of course, was to maintain civilian supremacy but to provide the field commanders with unfettered authority for the conduct of operations. The outbreak of war, with its bursts of patriotism, produced a further exaggeration of these prewar tendencies. Adolphe Messimy, again war minister since 4 June 94, was an advocate of strong military leadership. On 2 August, the day after general mobilization had been proclaimed, Messimy on behalf of the government “gave to the commanderin-chief absolute liberty of action for the execution of his plans.”²⁴ An understanding worked out between Messimy and Joffre and approved by

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the Cabinet at this time further defined the relationship of the government to the High Command. “The political direction of the war properly belongs to the Government,” it asserted; “the conduct of operations is under the exclusive purview of the Commander-in-Chief.”²⁵ On the surface, Messimy’s formula maintained the dominance of political over military authority while granting wide-ranging authority to Joffre for the conduct of operations. As such it appeared well suited to the requirements of a short war. But the absence of a second theatre of war, the result of Italian neutrality, snatched from the government’s purview the enormous power of arbiter of resources between fronts, which of necessity would have involved the strategic control of operations, and thus greatly enhanced the power of the commander-in-chief on the Western Front.²⁶ Moreover, with the departure of almost all the prewar General Staff into the field, the government was left without impartial expert advice or even effective means of monitoring information and advice from the High Command.²⁷ Messimy’s formula, in line with the 93 decrees, also conferred upon the commander-in-chief dictatorial military rule within the army zone, which, it was assumed, would be largely within enemy territory. But because of the unexpected advance of the German army, control of much of northern France fell into the hands of the High Command.²⁸ Joffre also acquired power over the press and other agencies of public opinion, in consequence of the Cabinet’s decision on 5 August to forbid the printing of news harmful to the morale of the army; the press was later restricted to the official news of operations provided by the High Command.²⁹ Joffre’s powers were thus greatly enhanced, partly by design, partly by circumstances. The government’s role in directing policy paled in significance as the focus shifted to the all-important and immediate need of obtaining operational success, the task of Joffre and his associates. Joffre nonetheless remained fully in harmony with the political aims of the French government in his military objectives, which were to drive the Germans out of France and to obtain a maximum participation from France’s allies. Joffre exercised his vast powers to the full, often punctuating his demands with the threat of resignation. The Viviani government made infrequent demands upon him during the first months of the war.³⁰ Poincaré, one of the few politicians willing to stand up to the massive general, made a request for more information after the defeat at Morhange on 20 August, which led to the appointment of two liaison officers between

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government and command to provide information on the course of operations.³¹ In addition, Poincaré reasserted his right to visit the front in early October 94.³² Messimy, the war minister, was less successful. Upset by the approach of the German armies after the defeat of the “Battle of the Frontiers,” Messimy, on behalf of the government, ordered Joffre on 25 August to defend the capital with an army of at least three active corps – an order which Joffre ignored. The general complained bitterly about government interference in his operations, with the result that Messimy was replaced on 27 August.³³ Apart from these sporadic albeit sometimes significant demands, the government gave Joffre a free hand in the operational conduct of the war. The government likewise shielded Joffre from political censure after the defeat in the Battle of the Frontiers on 23 August, which was followed by the retreat of all the French armies. Viviani’s government came under serious pressure due to the Socialists’ criticism of Joffre’s conduct of operations.³⁴ But the recently formed political consensus held firm, and government support of Joffre in 94 (in contrast with that given to Maurice Gamelin in 940) prevented Joffre’s replacement. Rather, Viviani, under Poincaré’s urging, enlarged the Cabinet on 27 August to obtain the support of the left and give an effective voice to the principle of union sacrée. Jules Guesde and Marcel Sembat, two prominent Socialists, entered the ministry for the first time; Messimy’s replacement at the War Ministry was Alexandre Millerand, who had served in that capacity in Poincaré’s famous 92 ministry. Théophile Delcassé, author of the Entente cordiale, was returned as foreign minister, and Alexandre Ribot, a notable former finance minister, resumed that portfolio.³⁵ “With Millerand at the War [Ministry] and Ribot at Finance,” wrote Paul Cambon from London, “it will no longer be possible to call it a ‘ministry of incompetents.’”³⁶ This ministry of many talents, lacking a strong premier at it head, functioned under the guiding influence of President Poincaré. Methodical, cool, and penetrating, Poincaré – often acting unofficially and as arbiter of disputes – focused and steadied the work of the ministry while playing a more overt role in the supervision of diplomatic and military matters.³⁷ In Millerand, the new war minister, the High Command found a strong advocate, which further strengthened Joffre’s position. A more forceful personality than Messimy, Millerand tenaciously shared the former’s conviction that the commander-in-chief should have full lib-

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erty of action in the preparation and conduct of operations.³⁸ Millerand, stoutly resisting civilian interference, held that it was the war minister’s duty to represent the commander-in-chief before the government and the Parliament and to shield him with his own authority. Holding at bay Joffre’s critics, he defended the prerogatives of the High Command while responding energetically to the munition shortage that developed in early October 94. He thus contributed to the already vast powers of the commander-in-chief.³⁹ The government’s precipitous flight from Paris to Bordeaux on 3 September 94 was considered a cowardly act by the public. Suffering from a badly tarnished image in the press, the government became the nub of popular jokes. At the same time, personal fame came to Joffre as the “Victor of the Marne” (see chapter 5). As the hero of the Marne, with vast popular support, “Papa” Joffre became politically untouchable, a national hero, elevated beyond criticism.⁴⁰ The government was obliged to treat this new-found saviour with the greatest deference. The net result of these factors was that the French Command exercised almost unchallenged authority in the formulation and execution of French strategy. Thus, for a time, France, the most democratic of nations, had a situation of exaggerated military authority, though as Brian A. Jevons has persuasively argued, this fell well short of dictatorship. While Joffre exercised almost total control in military matters, he made no attempt to intervene in other spheres and respected the conventions of civilian control.⁴¹ In matters related to relations with Frances’s allies, the French government played a more significant role. Millerand urged Joffre to “establish a more intimate cooperation” with the British commander-in-chief when Anglo-French military cooperation reached its lowest ebb on  September. On the question of the defence of Antwerp in early October, Millerand supported the British in their plan to save the citadel, in opposition to Joffre’s operational strategy. Poincaré was also present with Millerand at gatherings between Joffre and Kitchener on 5 October and  November, as delicate matters involving British participation were discussed.⁴² The government at no time relinquished its control of French relations with its allies and neutrals. The prewar policy of obtaining a maximum return from France’s allies remained intact. Joffre’s aim of getting the fullest possible participation from the British was in full harmony with government policy. The French government could thus be relied upon, with few exceptions, to give its support to the High Com-

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mand in obtaining its wishes from the British government and command in France.⁴³

The French High Command Joffre inherited the French Command structure from the prewar General Staff, but his command bore the imprint of his own unique style of leadership.⁴⁴ At the summit of authority, Joffre assumed full command of the French armies of the northeast as commander-in-chief on 5 August 94, at the time of his move to Grand quartier général (General Headquarters) at Vitry-le-François. Below him the major-général (chief of staff), General Emile Belin, was responsible for the overall operation of the General Staff and presided over a complement of about fifty officers. Belin was assisted by two aides-majors-généraux (subchiefs of staff), General Henri Berthelot, who supervised the key Second and Third Bureaus, responsible for intelligence and operations, and General Deprez, who supervised the First and Fourth Bureaus, responsible respectively for manpower and services, and railway operations and administration of the army zone. The French staff also had responsibility for the conduct of relations with Allied armies.⁴⁵ Belin, as chief of staff, was responsible for the execution of the commander-in-chief’s decisions, but because of ill health he delegated most of the responsibility for operations to Berthelot, the deputy chief.⁴⁶ The corpulent Berthelot, dubbed the “Fat Boy” by Wilson, was “the effective brain” at Grand quartier général (gqg ).⁴⁷ Recognized by Joffre as “an exceptional intelligence” and enjoying his favour, Berthelot dominated discussions at headquarters and drafted many of the orders. His main failures were his inability to delegate responsibility to and take advice from his subordinates of the Third Bureau. One of the peculiarities of his intellectual makeup was a curious fixation on the strategy of striking at the enemy’s centre or inner flank.⁴⁸ As his personal diary reveals, he was the most hearty of anglophobes, always critical and distrustful of the British and extremely vituperative toward them on occasion. His negative attitude often poisoned relations with them.⁴⁹ Colonel Maurice Pellé, who had served as Joffre’s chief of staff in Madagascar, was the rising star at gqg . A cultivated military diplomat, Pellé was fully conversant with the German military milieu, having served as military attaché in Berlin before the war. He replaced General Deprez in mid-August 94 as subchief of staff, Berthelot as deputy chief in Novem-

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ber, and ultimately Belin as chief of staff when the latter’s health failed in late 95.⁵⁰ Of the four bureaus at gqg , the Third Bureau, charged with operations (like the Operations Bureau in the German General Staff), proved to be by far the most powerful. Headed by the hardworking Colonel Pont, it included a bevy of officers – one colonel, lieutenant-colonels, majors, and captains – most of whom served as liaison officers to the armies in the field. Though junior in rank and experience to the commanding generals, these officers, because of their direct access to the chief, exercised great power through alternate praise or criticism of those in command.⁵¹ Their advice was often decisive. Similarly, Colonel Penelon, formerly of Poincaré’s military cabinet, and Major Emile Herbillon, who served as liaison officers to the government and the president of the Republic, wielded considerable political power in their role as “soldier to the politicians and politician to the soldiers.”⁵² A striking characteristic of Joffre’s command was the wide-ranging authority exercised by the junior officers who staffed the main bureaus and served on Joffre’s personal staff. Most were young men selected by Joffre on the basis of their high performance at the Ecole supérieure de guerre. Although personalities of considerable differences in outlook and approach, all were fully imbued with the doctrine of the offensive.⁵³ Known as the “young Turks” because of their zeal for offensive action, these young men with innovative ideas served to spark the imagination of their sixty-two-year-old commander-in-chief. Their advice was often heeded. Before making important decisions, Joffre habitually consulted not only his chief advisers but also the most “diverse creative intelligences” of his junior staff.⁵⁴ Very soon after the German invasion of Belgian territory and the French defeat on the frontier, a power struggle developed between General Berthelot and the Third Bureau over the proper strategy needed to meet the German thrust across northern France. Berthelot advocated a major strike against the German right-centre. The Third Bureau argued in favour of forming a new army on the Allied left in order to strike at the exposed German flank. The Third Bureau, whose initial role had been largely that of sending out orders and positioning armies on the map, assumed a more aggressive stance with Major Maurice Gamelin, head of Joffre’s personal staff, as their spokesman, and refused to be stifled. As Joffre’s closest personal aide, Gamelin exercised considerable influence on the commander-in-chief. This conflict brought to Joffre’s attention a

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wider range of alternatives to choose from during the “Great Retreat,” and his judicious choice resulted in the successful Battle of the Marne. The Third Bureau, whose advice was followed, emerged triumphant from the power struggle and acquired the right to advise the chief directly on operational matters. Berthelot, the subject of a “limogeage élégant” (elegant sacking), was given command of a group of reserve divisions when on 22 November he was replaced by Pellé.⁵⁵ His departure greatly relieved the British, as his jaundiced advice was frequently the source of difficulty with them. Gamelin remained on staff. His influence derived from his close personal relationship with Joffre. Noted for his intellect and high standing at the Ecole supérieure de guerre, he had served as head of Joffre’s personal staff prior to the latter’s appointment as chief of the General Staff. Personal “confidant” of Joffre, Gamelin ate in his mess and served as his liaison with the Third Bureau.⁵⁶ After gqg moved from Vitry-le-François to Bar-sur-Aube on 3 August 94, Gamelin slept in a chamber adjacent to that of the commander-in-chief and exercised the discretionary role of whether to disturb him from his much-coveted slumber on receipt of urgent news. Deeply nationalistic, Gamelin evinced considerable impatience in dealing with seemingly unruffled and unhurried British allies. “Dear and great British Allies,” he later wrote, “you have often brought us to despair by your habits of believing that there is never any hurry.”⁵⁷ Assisting Gamelin as aides-de-camp to the chief were Captains Galbert and Muller. Galbert kept Joffre’s desk clear of the massive piles of paper generated by modern warfare and answered the telephone in his absence. He drafted some of the letters sent by Joffre to Sir John French and was sent on at least one very important liaison mission to the British High Command.⁵⁸ The operation of Joffre’s command was characterized by his deliberate approach. A systematic, authoritarian, military bureaucrat, Joffre imposed calm and order at gqg , which contributed greatly to his success. Following a leisurely country routine, he arose early, assembled his aides-de-camp, chief and subchiefs of staff, and bureau heads at 7:00 am for a morning report summarizing the major occurrences of the night. Then, mid-morning, after clearing off his desk, he took a walk with key staff advisers and members of his personal entourage. A similar walk after the evening report preceded his early retirement.⁵⁹ Far removed from the scene of the battle or even close contact with its executants, Joffre and his staff played the game of war on maps, serenely, confidently,

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and according to the best information at hand. Unlike the British commander, he had no personal rapport with the soldiers. Only occasionally, as required, did he leave gqg to attend to crises in the field. An atmosphere of calm and order thus prevailed at gqg , even during the most difficult moments of the Great Retreat, which contributed considerably to the reversal of French fortunes on the Marne.⁶⁰ The calm and confidence of Joffre’s command, in contrast with the confusion of Gamelin’s command in May 940, is instructive on this point. A shrewd organizer, Joffre devoted most of his time to decision making. In eclectic fashion, he silently heard advice of varying quality from all levels. Then “he ripened his decisions in the silence of his office.” Once his decision was made, “he threw all his means of action into the balance to obtain the [desired] result.” There was “neither hesitation nor second thought,” recalled one of his aides; “he knew how to assume his responsibilities.”⁶¹ His personal strengths were his ability to identify problems, work out solutions, and act decisively. Unlike General Helmuth von Moltke, the German commander, who, located far to the rear and hampered by poor radio communications, left an excessive degree of initiative to his field commanders, Joffre effectively commanded his armies in a personal and authoritarian manner.⁶² In addition to use of the telephone and telegraph for a regular exchange of messages, he made extensive use of liaison officers who, as the chief’s personal envoys, delivered written messages to the commanding generals, often with the addition of verbal instructions from the commanderin-chief himself. The reports of these officers were especially cherished by Joffre, who gleaned from them an impression of the state of morale and competence of the field commanders which might not be evident in their written reports. Joffre thus kept his finger on the pulse of his armies at all times. The coordination of their movements according to overall objectives was assured by constant and direct control.⁶³ Joffre’s method of direct control nonetheless produced some aberrations. Inexperienced young officers were not necessarily capable of assessing the abilities of more senior commanders, yet their appraisals could be very damaging and sometimes contributed to their removal. Such vast extension of personal authority in the hands of inexperienced junior officers also tended, in the long run, to stifle initiative on the part of the senior generals in the field.⁶⁴ The French system nonetheless proved to be effective for the coordination of mass armies when one or

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more of them was exposed to grave danger, as exemplified by the French experience during the Great Retreat. In this regard, it was much better than the German system, which gave too much “initiative” or discretionary power to the field commanders. After initial defeats in the frontier battles, Joffre undertook a largescale removal of field generals to toughen French army leadership. Many who had been political appointees and others who were adequate officers in peacetime proved lacking under the stress of battle. Completely ruthless to those whom he suspected of incompetence, loss of calm and confidence or want of energy, and those who proved unsatisfactory to their commanding officers, he sacked 62 of the leading generals of France, fully one-third of the senior office corps, during the first four months of the war. Among those sacked was General Charles Lanrezac, commanding the French Fifth Army next to the British, on 3 September, in advance of the Battle of the Marne. While excesses were undoubtedly committed, the renewal of French leadership was an important factor in later French success.⁶⁵ In sum, Joffre’s genius lay not in personal brilliance but in his capacity to take full advantage of the diverse advisory talents of his subordinates and to delegate to them the numerous tasks of the High Command. Effective control he reserved for himself. Although his command was somewhat analogous in structure to the German Command, the method was radically different. Joffre commanded in a direct and authoritarian manner and promptly replaced those found wanting. His style of leadership, which provided for the central coordination of mass armies, corresponded well with the demands of the Great War. Similarly, Joffre’s goal in dealing with the British was to have the British Expeditionary Force function as another army under his command, subject to French direction and obliged to carry it out. A major concern was how to obtain British compliance. Needless to say, the British, who saw themselves as partners rather than subordinates, were not always amenable to this relationship.

British Government and High Command As in France, British public life in the summer of 94 was focused on domestic issues, particularly on the Irish Question, which occupied almost the entire attention of H.H. Asquith’s Liberal government. As noted in the previous chapter, this divisive issue, which pitted Ulsterman

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against Irish Nationalists and Liberals against Conservatives, reached crisis proportions in March when fifty-eight officers of the Cavalry Brigade at Curragh offered their resignation rather than impose on Ulster the government’s policy of Irish Home Rule (soon to pass into law). The question, particularly sensitive for Anglo-Irish officers, who formed a large portion of the British officer corps, developed into a full-blown political-military crisis when the dissidents received the support of highranking military leaders, among them Brigadier-General Henry Wilson, Sir John French, and his adjutant-general Sir Spencer Ewart. French, Ewart, and J.E.B. Seeley, the secretary of state for war, resigned. Wilson retained his post as director of military operations, but he consorted with Unionist leaders and the press to force the government’s hand. This indiscretion rendered him persona non grata with the Asquith government, a situation which would later pose serious problems for British cooperation with the French army, as Wilson was the key contact. With Seeley’s resignation, Asquith was obliged to take over the War Office himself on an interim basis, a position he was still occupying at the outbreak of war. The Irish Question was far from resolution, and British civil-military relations remained in a state of considerable tension and unease when the July crisis intervened.⁶⁶ As in France, the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand on 28 June passed as another Balkan incident likely of resolution, until the AustroHungarian ultimatum to Serbia on 24 July jolted the Cabinet with the prospect of war.⁶⁷ In the crisis, Earl Grey, the foreign secretary, in repeated consultation with the Cabinet and the prime minister, worked for a peaceful solution to the crisis, proposing to Germany on 26 July a great power conference to resolve the crisis, while refraining from giving any assurance of support to either France or Russia. When Grey’s conference proposal was turned down the next day, the march to war seemed inevitable. But given the divided state of British public opinion and the divisions within Parliament, Grey could not go beyond warning Germany that in “[his] opinion, if war came, we should be drawn into it on the side of France.”⁶⁸ On 2 August, with Germany and Russia already at war, Asquith faced a serious split within his Cabinet between the pacifist Radicals, four of whom submitted their resignations, and the “interventionist” imperial Liberals on the question of participation in the war. Then news of Germany’s violation of neutral Belgium on 3 August, in open disregard of

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German treaty obligations, swung public opinion – whose most overt expression was the cheering by war-enthusiastic crowds in the streets – in favour of intervention. A new consensus was restored within the Cabinet. Of the four ministers who had tendered resignations, only Lord John Morley, president of the Council, and John Burns, president of the Board of Trade, remained out. The German invasion of Belgium had provided the “priceless gift” of national unity, harmonizing the views of the majority of British people, who looked upon policy in terms of morality, and the inner core of defence planners, who conceived policy largely in terms of power politics and the defence of vital interests.⁶⁹ A national consensus thus emerged in favour of the war. Reflective of the democratic age, public opinion proved to be the most powerful force in British public life, as in the French democracy. As in France, basic issues were adjourned in Great Britain for the greater good of fighting the war. Irish Home Rule, the most contentious issue before the country, was put on the statute books, not without the opposition of the Unionists, and was then forgotten, its implementation being suspended until six months after the end of the war. Other issues, such as the tariff, were conveniently ignored.⁷⁰ The Liberals, with strong pacifist support before the war, represented the less bellicose part of public opinion. But when called upon in the name of the people to fight the war, Asquith’s party received the general support of the House of Commons, including that of forty-one Labour members, except for Ramsay MacDonald, their disavowed leader, and a few others. The Unionists under Andrew Bonar Law were quite content to keep the Liberals tied to the war effort by the exercise of power. They therefore made no demand for broadening the ministry until the munitions crisis in May 95 led to the creation of the first Coalition Government.⁷¹ In Great Britain as in France, the outbreak of war was attended by a radical increase in executive power. Unlike the French government, however, which departed substantially from the republican tradition by concentrating vast powers in the hands of the commander-in-chief, the British Cabinet maintained very close control over the commander of the British Expeditionary Force. The unique aspect in the British case was the unusual concentration of power in the hands of two men, who took charge of the strategic direction of the war during the first ten months: Lord Kitchener, responsible for military affairs, and Winston Churchill, the clever and aggressive young First Lord of the Admiralty.⁷²

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In Great Britain, the advent of war also led to a dramatic strengthening of the Cabinet’s power. On 8 August 94, four days after the British declaration of war against Germany, the first Defence of the Realm Act was passed. Strengthened by further measures on 27 August and 27 November, the Act gave the Cabinet authorization to regulate by orderin-council all matters pertaining to the security and defence of the kingdom. Included in this wide-ranging grant of power was the right to limit freedom of the press and to mobilize the human and material resources of the state for war. Although the House of Commons retained the role of official watchdog, it met infrequently and, deferring to the Cabinet, did not review the strategic conduct of the war. The powers granted the British Cabinet were even broader in scope than those accorded the French government by the French Chamber and Senate on 4 August 94.⁷³ Asquith’s government, however, was little prepared for energetic pursuit of the war effort. In a government of departments, “each minister was left to the conduct of his own department,” with Asquith, the “detached chairman,” intervening only when necessary to resolve disputes.⁷⁴ Ostensibly, the best solution would have been to form a supercabinet to preside over the war effort with the advice of the Committee of Imperial Defence and the Imperial General Staff. But Asquith, in response to popular demand from both Liberals and Unionists, decided to call in an “emergency man” to buoy up the Liberals’ less than martial image. On 6 August 94, he filled the post of secretary of state for war, which he had held personally since the Curragh affair, with the British Empire’s most distinguished soldier, Field Marshal Horatio Herbert Kitchener, who happened to be in London from Egypt at the time. The appointment was a popular success. The martial-looking sixty-four-yearold Kitchener, renowned for his conquest of the Sudan and South Africa and his administration of India and Egypt, soon became the symbol of the nation’s will to victory.⁷⁵ Kitchener’s appointment, recognized by Asquith as a “hazardous experiment” from the political point of view, entirely undid the politicalmilitary reforms of the previous decade, which had combined civilian rule with professional military advice. Having lived in the far reaches of the empire since his youth, Kitchener knew little and cared even less about the administration of the British army.⁷⁶ The reforms of the political-military structure since the Boer War, the creation of the Committee of Imperial Defence in 902, and the Army Council and Imperial General

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Staff in 904 were anathema to his sense of undivided authority.⁷⁷ He was “secretive, power loving and incapable of delegation.” His method, that of an “oriental autocrat,” was to make decisions intuitively and then, by his vast personal authority, impose them on his subordinates. Ill equipped for the give and take of Cabinet debate, he disdained his political colleagues, some of whom he overawed with his presence and from whom he withheld information.⁷⁸ One has to go to French sources to fully find out what he said to French political and military leaders during his visits to France.⁷⁹ His penchant for one-upmanship would become a serious impediment in his relationship with Sir John French in 95.⁸⁰ As secretary of state for war, Kitchener wielded undisputed authority over British military strategy. He was also responsible for the mobilization of men and resources within the British Empire. Assuming the powers of the defunct office of commander-in-chief, he effectively abandoned such institutions as the Army Council and the General Staff, and the chief of the Imperial General Staff was reduced to a mere cypher.⁸¹ As in France, the most competent members of the General Staff departed with the field command. Not attempting to compensate for their loss, Kitchener assumed personal responsibility for the war effort at the War Office and the direction of strategy within the Cabinet. Under the loose direction of the prime minister, with occasional input from Grey, Kitchener and Churchill met in informal sessions and made vital strategic decisions, often without expert advice. The Committee of Imperial Defence, which might have advised the government, was largely ignored and, even when constituted as the War Council at the end of November 94, did not materially alter the existing power relationships.⁸² The relationship between Kitchener and Churchill, however, was not always harmonious. One of the most creative minds of the war, Churchill experimented in France in 94 with the use of military buses, armoured cars, and eventually had the Admiralty flying wing attached to the army. These experiments did not always have the approval of Kitchener, who complained to Sir John French on  December 94 about “the many freaks they [the Admiralty] are constantly starting in the army but which they maintain are under Admiralty control.”⁸³ Churchill also brought down Kitchener’s wrath for interfering in his relationship with Sir John French, assuming the role as arbiter in disputes between French and Kitchener, and for his meddling in strategy in frequent visits to the front. By mid-December, when Churchill was promoting a coastal operation

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with Sir John, contrary to the wishes of Kitchener, tensions between the two ministers had become so severe that to prevent Kitchener’s resignation, the prime minister had to restrict Churchill’s visits to headquarters in France.⁸⁴ In his relations with the field command of the British Expeditionary Force, Kitchener assumed the role of military superior rather than civilian link with the Cabinet, which was ultimately responsible for the direction of strategy and senior field appointments.⁸⁵ Treating Sir John French, the commander-in-chief of the BEF, as a military subordinate, Kitchener instructed him to provide the War Office with detailed information and on occasion intervened directly in field matters. Sir John was especially offended by Kitchener’s appearance in Paris on  September 94 in the dress of a field marshal, and he complained bitterly to other members of the Cabinet (particularly Churchill) of interference in his operations.⁸⁶ “An estrangement, or at any rate a coldness, of long standing” existed between Kitchener and Sir John from their association in the South African War, Asquith observed, and it added to the conflict.⁸⁷ Indeed, the experience of the First World War represented in many instances a rerun of the South African War, since many British officers already knew one another and carried with them the liabilities of previous relationships. Kitchener nonetheless was a man of vision and insight. According to Lloyd George, the chancellor of the exchequer, he was like “one of those revolving lighthouses which radiates momentary gleams of revealing light far out into the surrounding gloom and then suddenly relapses into complete darkness.”⁸⁸ One of his great insights was perception of the true nature of the war. Unlike his contemporaries, who believed in a short cheap war, Kitchener, at his first meeting with the Cabinet on 7 August, startled his colleagues by asserting that the war would last for three years and that an army of millions would be required to win it. This assessment was based on his personal appraisal of the relative strengths of the opposing forces.⁸⁹ As David French has convincingly argued, Kitchener’s grand strategy was to raise a large British army that would be able to win the war in defence of British interests at a time when its continental allies were exhausted in the struggle.⁹⁰ But this strategy had liabilities. “A pessimist by nature,” according to Asquith, Kitchener had no faith in the ability of either the French or the Russian armies to hold the German army single-handedly. His great fear was that Germany would beat the French and Russian armies in turn

Herbert Henry Asquith, British prime minister 908–6 (Service historique de la Défense, Vincennes [shd ])

Raymond Poincaré, president of the French Republic 93–20 (shd )

Field Marshal Lord Horatio Herbert Kitchener, British secretary of state for war from August 94 to June 96 (shd )

Field Marshal Sir John French, commander-in-chief of the British Expeditionary Force in France from August 94 to December 95 (shd )

General Joseph Joffre, French commanderin-chief from August 94 to December 96 (shd )

Joffre in ceremonial dress (shd )

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and then, having a free hand on the Channel coasts, launch an invasion of England. Fear of invasion was one of the most recurrent themes in his analysis.⁹¹ He therefore sought to hold the alliance together by whatever expedient was required until his new mass armies could take to the field. Thus willy-nilly, by the weakness of his allies, he was dragged ever deeper into the war in France. Kitchener bypassed the partially trained Territorial Force of fourteen infantry divisions and fourteen cavalry brigades that Haldane had designed for home defence and as the basis for a mass army of the nation. His zeal was for improvisation. Reflecting the professional’s bias in favour of regular soldiers, and unjustly scornful of the Territorial Force, the work of a civilian, Kitchener improvised an entirely new structure for the creation of “New Armies” of regulars, seventy divisions strong, that would be ready for action only much later. On 7 August he launched his first appeal for 00,000 volunteers. The response was overwhelming. Kitchener’s appeal made enlistment popular, and the success of enlistment enhanced his already towering reputation. In the next eighteen months, 2,467,000 volunteers joined the army.⁹² Recruiting of the New Armies marked the transition in British opinion from a limited to a broader commitment to the war. On 3 August, Grey had assured the House of Commons that the nation would “suffer little more” by participation in the European war than if it stood aside. The slogan of “Business as usual” was symbolic of the popular belief in a short war of limited liability, in which the British navy and the continental armies of France and Russia would, in a matter of months or even weeks, defeat Germany on sea and on land. The war, however, did not develop as planned, and by the end of November, with the advent of trench warfare, the concept of a short cheap war was no longer tenable.⁹³ Public opinion nonetheless had been prepared. After the departure of the BEF to France, the British people, hungry for news, relished the feats of heroism of the British force reported in the censored press, which was silent on grand strategy or even the exploits of Britain’s allies. For example, Paul Cambon, the French ambassador in London, complained repeatedly to his government of the lack of coverage in the British press of French military operations.⁹⁴ German atrocity stories, largely invented, and recruiting meetings, at which the demagogic Horatio Bottomley was an immediate success, further whipped up the nation’s war spirit.⁹⁵ The flood of recruits for whom there were neither sufficient rifles nor housing

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nor qualified instructors represented not only the voluntary mobilization of a significant portion of the nation’s manpower but the deepening of popular commitment to the war effort.⁹⁶ In terms of grand strategy, the broadened popular commitment could be transformed into a larger and larger military commitment to the war in France. Kitchener’s far-sighted wisdom in creating mass armies for ultimate triumph soon brought him into conflict with the field command of the BEF. The field command favoured an operational strategy of immediate victory in collaboration with the French army. The basic issue, apart from the question of sending all available forces to France, was that of competition for officers between the BEF and the New Armies. Britain’s loss of officers during the first months of the war was especially high, and Sir John French’s urgent demands for replacements after mid-September could not be met.⁹⁷ Kitchener’s unwillingness “to meet the famine of the moment by devouring the seed-corn of the future” was undoubtedly the right strategy, but it was keenly resented at British Headquarters, where the lack of regimental and non-commissioned officers was blamed, especially after the Battle of the Aisne, for the BEF ’s lack of success on the field of battle.⁹⁸ The lack of qualified officers for the New Armies, on the other hand, resulted in inadequate training of the force and a costly bloodbath in its initiation to offensive trench warfare on the Somme in 96.⁹⁹ Another cause of conflict with Sir John was the Cabinet’s apparent reversal of strategy over Antwerp. The strategy of continental intervention, adopted in 9 and applied in August 94, was the product of divided councils. The concept of the “blue water school” – of war at sea and amphibious raids or landings, using the Royal Navy for launching the BEF to a strategic target – had been temporarily muted by the departure of the BEF for France in August, but it re-emerged in mid-September when the strategy of direct cooperation with the French armies failed to provide for the safety of Antwerp and the Channel ports.¹⁰⁰ Although in favour of moving the BEF north from the Aisne to the outer Allied flank, Sir John energetically resisted the threat of a second British command in Belgium, even to the extent of intriguing with the French on 5 October against his own secretary of state for war.¹⁰¹ With French support, Sir John obtained satisfaction on the issue.¹⁰² The looseness of the Allied power structure that allowed him to gain his point on this issue would tempt him to use the same procedure on several occasions later.

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The combination of Kitchener’s deference to Joffre and a sense of Allied solidarity often produced the desired results. Kitchener, however, was the chief power broker on the British side in the first months of the war. He was also the chief architect and exponent of British military strategy designed to bring ultimate victory with the buildup of British forces.

Sir John French and the British High Command Field Marshal Sir John Denton Pinkstone French, commander-in-chief of the British Expeditionary Force in France, arrived in Paris on 5 August 94. A small, dapper cavalry officer of fine aristocratic breeding, known as a “thruster” because of his daring exploits in the South African War, the sixty-two-year-old soldier combined qualities of greatness, such as courage, loyalty, generosity, and understanding, with obvious faults, such as prickly sensitivity to superior authority, a highly mercurial temperament, and a tendency toward moodiness and even pettiness on occasion. Doubts were raised at the time and have persisted since that he possessed sufficient evenness of character and adequate training for the assigned command. Arrogantly British, proud of his command, and jealous of his powers, he was anxious to maintain the prerogatives of his office against all would-be offenders.¹⁰³ Sir John’s instructions were issued on 9 August 94. Drawn up by Kitchener and approved by the Cabinet, they reflected the narrow limits of his jurisdiction as commander as well as the limited nature of British commitment to continental defence. The British Expeditionary Force, as a result, was instructed to avoid serious risks. Consisting of four and a half infantry divisions and one cavalry division, though very small by continental standards, the BEF in fact represented the larger portion of available British land forces; they could be lost in an afternoon if needlessly exposed. Sir John was thus instructed to keep the War Office fully informed of his movements and to seek the advice of the government before endangering the force. While instructed to “support and cooperate with the French Army,” he was cautioned against “forward movements where large bodies of French troops are not exposed to attack.” If the force was endangered, rather than being “shut up like the French were in Sedan,” he was to retreat to safety along his lines of communica-

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tion. In addition, Kitchener emphasized the independent nature of Sir John’s command.¹⁰⁴ In these instructions lay the seeds of a great deal of difficulty with the French Command. The conditional nature of British support and the full independence of the British Command outlined in them were at odds with the unstinted support and compliance with direction expected by the French Command. The lack of unity and cohesiveness in the absence of a unified command became only too apparent after failure of the initial French plan of attack on 23 August shook the British commander-inchief’s confidence in French leadership and focused his attention more on saving the British force than on cooperating with the French army. Given his limited jurisdiction from home and the difficult task of cooperating with the French, Sir John frequently found himself engaged in a three-cornered tussle with the French Command and Kitchener for the control of field strategy and operations. On some issues Sir John would side with Joffre, on others with Kitchener, appealing to each to counterbalance the demands of the other. The two basic problems of the relationship between government and command and the relationship with the French were thus acutely manifest from the beginning.¹⁰⁵ Within Sir John’s command existed grave cleavages that detracted from its effective operation. The chief of the General Staff, Sir Archibald Murray, was methodical and intelligent but had little capacity for coping with crises. He was suspicious of the French and their plans, and his advice, in line with Kitchener’s instructions, was almost always toward excessive caution and prudence.¹⁰⁶ Brigadier-General Sir Henry Wilson, on the other hand, as subchief of staff, was unduly reckless in his advocacy of offensive action. More French than the French and entirely francophile, Wilson was an uncritical advocate at all times of complete British compliance with French military direction. Enjoying Sir John’s confidence, he was continually in conflict with Murray. His personal ambition led him to covet Murray’s position, for which, during several months starting in October, he intrigued relentlessly both with Sir John and his entourage and with the French Command. The British Command was thus one great cauldron of ferment during Wilson’s period as subchief of staff.¹⁰⁷ Wilson nevertheless was intelligent, quick to perceive the ramifications of a situation, calm under duress, and extremely valuable – because of his close ties with the French – in coordinating the strategy and movements of the two armies.

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There were other talents in French’s staff. Colonel George M.W. Macdonogh headed British intelligence, which, making innovative use of airplanes, was to prove excellent. The quartermaster-general, responsible for logistics and supply, Major-General William Robertson, demonstrated consistent good sense and military tough-mindedness. The ultimate beneficiary of the Wilson-Murray duel, Robertson ultimately succeeded Murray as chief of staff at the end of January 95. Sir John thus headed a military team of considerable competence but one that was divided against itself because of conflicting tendencies among its senior members. Less firm willed than Joffre, whose command also was troubled by internal conflicts, Sir John vacillated between the two poles represented by Murray and Wilson, swinging widely between extremes of excessive enthusiasm and despair.¹⁰⁸ The handful of Allied leaders who came into close contact with one another had varying skill levels in the language of their allies, as will become apparent in this volume and the ones that follow. In a world where French was still the dominant language of international discourse, much as English is at present, English leaders tended to have more knowledge of the French language than French leaders did of English. Kitchener, for example, had a fine command of the French language, which stood him in good stead in communication with his French allies, and in many instances allowed him to dominate Allied councils. Sir John French, on the other hand, though fascinated with the language – as witnessed by his frequent use of French phrases in his diary and personal letters – had a very limited ability to communicate in French, which was an impediment to effective interaction with his Allies during his command in France. Wilson, who spoke French fluently, thus acted frequently as interpreter and sometimes shaved off the rough edges of acrimonious discussion by softening or altering the interpretation. Asquith, a literary person in his own right, had some reasonable skill in French, though not to the level of Kitchener. On the French side, none of the French leaders appear to have had any significant communication skill in English, with the exception of Colonel Victor Huguet, who had served for approximately ten years as military attaché in London prior to the war, and Paul Cambon, the long-term French ambassador. Foch, who had a prewar connection with the English, had some skill in the language, while Poincaré, Viviani, and Joffre do not appear to have known any significant amount of English. The language skills of the various participants tended

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to go hand-in-hand with their degree of appreciation for the culture and thought processes of their respective allies. Those without language skills often saw “as through a glass dimly,” as they had to rely on existing stereotypes and the appreciations of others, which shaped social interaction with their allies and expectations of their performance.

Conclusion The transition from peacetime government to a wartime footing was attended with considerable angst in both France and Great Britain. In the summer of 94, divisive domestic issues dominated public attention; neither country expected the coming of war. But both governments emerged from the July crisis armed with the priceless treasure of national unity for the war effort. In France, the restraint of Poincaré and the French government, which cast Germany as the aggressor, coupled with the deep-seated wellsprings of French patriotism, led to a unified response and the formation of a Union sacrée government. In Great Britain, the German invasion of Belgium served to solidify behind the war effort even the least bellicose part of public opinion. In both countries, virtually all groups were thus willing to subordinate or adjourn the divisive issues of domestic politics for the greater good of fighting the war. While public opinion called for strong military leadership in both countries, the institutional response was quite different. In anticipation of a short war of manoeuvre, the French government conferred vast powers on the commander-in-chief, entrusting him with the strategic conduct of the war. In Great Britain, the government installed a strong military secretary of state for war, giving a martial appearance to a civilian Cabinet but upsetting all the machinery that had been elaborated in the previous decade for professional advice and civilian control in the conduct of war. Both appointments, by concentrating the direction of wartime strategy in the hands of a strong military personality, represented a substantial deviation from democratic practice. This concentration of military power brought Joffre and Kitchener into close contact as the dominant personalities in the coalition. The political-military power structure within the coalition reflected the policy and strategic imperatives of each state and derived from the political milieu in each country. On the French side, Joffre exercised effective power over the strategic conduct of the war in harmony with

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the defence policy of his government and spoke with the voice of the French government and nation in pressing his demands on the British government and command. Kitchener also wielded great power but a power which, despite his control of military strategy, had to be shared with Churchill, the First Lord of the Admiralty, under Asquith’s watchful eye, with some input from Grey. Kitchener, as the authentic voice of the British policy of limited commitment to the Continent in his instructions to Sir John French, in effect became the author of a new strategy that entailed the buildup of British forces for ultimate victory. Within the parameter defined by their political masters, the interaction between the British and French commands was significantly affected by the personalities and personnel of each command. Rejecting the German concept of initiative, which gave commanders wide discretionary powers in the field, Joffre directed his armies in a personal, authoritarian manner, with centralized control – a system better adapted to the marshalling and coordination of large units and their supply. His tendency was to treat the BEF as merely another army under his command. Instructed both to cooperate with the French army and yet maintain an independent command, Sir John would alternate between enthusiasm for French strategic plans and resistance to French direction. Much of his willingness to cooperate with the French would depend on who had his ear at headquarters – the cautious Murray or the reckless Wilson – and his degree of confidence in the most recent French plan. Committed to sustaining Britain’s allies in the meantime, Kitchener was subject increasingly to demands from the field for reinforcements as crisis followed crisis. Serious political-military conflict soon developed between Kitchener and Sir John French over a variety of issues. This weakened the British position in dealing with Joffre. Kitchener, moreover, out of consideration for Allied solidarity, was prone to support Joffre in any dispute with Sir John. The consequence of these relationships was that Joffre dominated the coalition.

C H A P T E R f ou r

French Strategic Planning and the Deployment of the Bef in France

August 94 proved to be the formative period of AngloFrench wartime relations. During the July crisis, British participation in the continental war remained uncertain, while French diplomacy attempted to counter the apparent British inclination to step aside. The French waited with bated breath while the British government made crucial decisions: to enter the war in support of the Entente cordiale and to send the British Expeditionary Force to France. Although the French counted on much more from the Russians with their numerous armies than from the small British force, the immediate value of British forces loomed increasingly large in Joffre’s strategic plan. The German invasion of Belgium would now allow him to launch his preferred attack across Belgium, accentuating the role of his left-wing attack, which was to include the British. While the British decision to intervene and send the British Expeditionary Force to France was made with relative celerity, the timing of the BEF ’s arrival and its staging area were issues that caused considerable angst to the French Command. Friction between the French and their new ally arose as the British decision-making process ran afoul of French General Staff expectations and initial British strategy clashed with French strategic plans. The French staff adjusted its plans and pressed its demands with a measure of success, but a legacy of misunderstanding and ill will remained behind to cloud future Allied relations.

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French Grand Strategy With the advent of war in August 94, the diplomatic situation, though clouded for a time, soon cleared the way for the implementation of French grand strategy essentially as planned before the war. The French strategic plan, as arranged in prewar discussions with the Russians, called for simultaneous French and Russian offensives on the fourteenth day of mobilization. Any lingering doubts about Russian intentions were dispelled on 6 August when Joffre received a message from Grand Duke Nicholas, appointed Russian commander-in-chief four days earlier, reassuring him that the Russian army would do its part in launching an “all-out attack” as early as 4 August, even though its mobilization would not then be completed. Joffre was confident that with an immediate Russian offensive, which would engage significant German forces in East Prussia, he would be able to launch a successful offensive on the French front.¹ The Italians played their part as anticipated in prewar planning. On  August Joffre learned that, faithful to the 902 accords, Italy would maintain its neutrality, which was officially confirmed three days later. Italian neutrality reassured him relative to troop movements from Algeria and allowed him to divert two corps from the Italian border to the north, as envisaged in Plan XVII .²

Deploying the BEF British involvement would prove much more problematic with regard to the implementation of prewar French strategy. With the approach of war in the July crisis, the British government had been obliged to make vital decisions: whether to enter the war in support of the Entente cordiale and, if so, whether to send the British Expeditionary Force to France. British intervention in the European conflict was by no means automatic. In London, as noted earlier, the relaxed holiday atmosphere of July 94 was disturbed mostly by the issue of Irish Home Rule until the Austrian ultimatum to Serbia on 24 July jolted Asquith’s Liberal government into considering the European crisis. The Cabinet was badly divided on the issue of British involvement in the looming conflict, with a number of Radical ministers threatening resignation should the government decide

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to intervene on behalf of France and Russia. Public opinion was decidedly against intervention.³ Asquith’s government thus reaffirmed repeatedly to the French after 29 July, as the crisis deepened, the formal lack of British commitment to France in the event of war. The French government responded with a variety of ploys: French forces were withdrawn in a zone ten kilometres wide along the German border on 30 July to demonstrate France’s peaceful intentions; Poincaré made a personal appeal to King George V the next day; French Ambassador Paul Cambon made repeated appeals to British interests and Britain’s moral obligation to the French. None had much effect in London. On  August, the first day of general war in Europe, Grey reaffirmed on the Cabinet’s behalf the lack of British commitment to France. Both the Cabinet and Parliament, he observed, were hostile toward sending the BEF to the Continent except as a last resort, in defence of vital interests.⁴ The French public reaction to the British indecision during the first few days of August was one of grave anxiety as the French faced a war that was not of their own choosing. With but minor hyperbole, Colonel Yarde Buller, the British military attaché in Paris, reported that “France prepared herself like a person doomed to the surgeon’s knife with little hope of emerging from the anaesthetic.”⁵ French public opinion was particularly alarmed by the British king’s non-committal reply to Poincaré’s letter.⁶ Doubts and suspicions regarding perfidious Albion surfaced anew as senior statesmen and diplomats, including Poincaré, Delcassé, and Cambon, voiced deep concern over British hesitation and the prospect of total failure of Entente diplomacy. Cambon, co-author with Delcassé of the policy of friendship with the British, was especially distraught. Messimy, the war minister, also expressed keen disappointment over British irresolution.⁷ Then things began to change. Acknowledging that the 92 redeployment of the British and French fleets involved a British moral commitment to defend the French coast, the British government pledged on 2 August to provide naval defence of the French Channel ports.⁸ The deciding factor, however, was the German invasion of Belgium on 3 August. The British public saw this action, which violated the 839 guarantee of Belgian independence, as a crime. The non-interventionist Radicals and the undecided joined hands with those in the Cabinet who favoured intervention in order to maintain the European balance of power. The threat

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to British trade and the security of Britain itself, which the German presence in Belgium would entail, thus led the government to endorse the time-honoured policy that no major power should be allowed to control the Belgian coast. As a result, Great Britain declared war on Germany on 4 August 94, and mobilization of the British army, ordered the previous day, was set for the night of 4–5 August.⁹ The entry of Great Britain into the war, just one day after the French, was a triumph for French policy. When the three days of “diabolical” suspense were ended, wrote Buller, the news “that England was ‘coming in’ acted like the fairy wand of the story book and the spirit of an expectant victory spread over the country.”¹⁰ Concern over lack of preparation, particularly with regard to lack of heavy artillery, slipped into the background. With British support and the expected impact of the Russian “steamroller,” the French now had a good chance of victory. French diplomacy and mutual interest had triumphed in the end. The French had a new ally in their life and death struggle with the German Empire. The French General Staff, as in many matters pertaining to the early events of the war, had maintained much greater calm than the French government during the period of uncertainty over the British attitude.¹¹ Upon learning of the British naval pledge on 2 August to defend the French ports on the Channel, Joffre had further inquired on 3 August into the orders given to the British fleet. Having satisfied himself that the British navy had in fact received orders to defend the French ports, he had “no further doubt” that Britain would support France both at sea and on land, because “it seemed impossible that, in such a conflict, a country like England should fight half a war.”¹² On 3 August Joffre, informed of the German ultimatum to Belgium, was reassured that the Germans would “this time raise against themselves the whole of England, which would feel directly threatened.”¹³ Although the British appeared to “have much trouble deciding,” there remained virtually no doubt in his mind after 4 August, when French authorities learned of the British popular response to the invasion of Belgium, that Britain would intervene on the French side. The French staff also learned that British mobilization had been set for 4–5 August.¹⁴ On 5 August the news of Britain’s declaration of war brought to a close the period of government apprehension and doubt.¹⁵ The uncertainty of British participation as the crisis unfolded nevertheless raised a number of difficulties for French strategic planning. The

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first was that of the ten-kilometre restriction imposed by the French government on the army on 30 July, not only to solidify domestic support but with the express purpose, for the benefit of British public opinion, of avoiding even the appearance of aggressive intent.¹⁶ Indeed, Joffre had come to the conclusion, as early as 27 July, with the arrival of news of Austrian mobilization against Serbia, that a European war was at hand. His chief concern thereafter was to prevent the enemy from gaining an initial advantage.¹⁷ Consequently, although accepting in principle the ten-kilometre restriction, Joffre immediately protested that it exposed valuable heights of land in the Vosges to the enemy and should be rescinded with the first German violation of the border.¹⁸ In the same vein, he pressed his government for general mobilization on 3 July on the grounds that the enemy was already mobilizing covertly, and reflecting his plan for an immediate battle on the frontiers, he argued that every delay of twenty-four hours would mean the loss of fifteen to twenty kilometres of national territory. As commander-in-chief, he said, he could not accept responsibility for such a loss – a veiled threat of resignation.¹⁹ On  August the French Cabinet had ordered general mobilization to begin the next day but reiterated its instruction on the ten-kilometre zone, a measure aimed explicitly at “assuring the collaboration” of the British.²⁰ Not satisfied, Joffre renewed his objections to the restricted zone on 2 August, again arguing that it exposed important strategic positions to the enemy. This time the Cabinet, convinced that war was now at hand, relented, giving the commander-in-chief designate full liberty of action for the execution of his plans.²¹ The ten-kilometre incident had no real impact on military operations, which did not begin until several days later.²² Its true significance lay in the fact that it demonstrated the extreme value which the French government attached to British participation in the conflict. Removal of the restriction also marked the transfer of effective military power from the hands of the government to the commander-in-chief. The crucial strategic problem for the French General Staff, once mobilization had begun, centred on the defence of Belgium. In the immediate prewar period the staff, on the basis of new intelligence information, had become very anxious about the danger of a German invasion across the Belgian frontier in the Ardennes. Thus, news on 2 August of the German violation of Luxembourg and a heavy concentration of German forces

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at Trèves on the Luxembourg border convinced the French staff that the German invasion of Belgium was imminent. The French staff still firmly believed that the German army, whose reserve formations it discounted for offensive action, was incapable of more than a minor sweep across Belgian territory below the Belgian Meuse. But the German invasion of Belgium would now allow Joffre to activate his preferred plan of attacking into Belgium. German violation of Belgian territory would place the BEF, with its forward concentration zone, in a position to join with the initial action of the French left wing and to strike a vital blow on the outer flank of the German army.²³ The small British force, which the French staff had casually cast in a contingent role on the French left wing in prewar plans, thus came to occupy a vital position in French operational plans from the outset. In consequence, the French General Staff became greatly concerned about the arrival date of the BEF. The forward position of the British concentration zone on the left wing of the French army was witness to the fact that the French General Staff still laboured under Wilson’s misleading assurance that Great Britain, if it came in at all, would do so at the same time as the French.²⁴ Already anxious about British indecision on 30 July, the French staff became more seriously concerned on 2 and 3 August when the German violation of Belgium had been clearly foreshadowed but Great Britain had not yet decided for war.²⁵ In anticipation of the German invasion of Belgium, Joffre decided on 2 August to strengthen the French left wing in preparation for his leftwing offensive. As a result, he ordered the prearranged variant in the mobilization scheme which provided for insertion of the Fourth Army in the line between the Fifth Army on the extreme left and the Third Army centred on Verdun. The Fifth Army, however, was extended only slightly to the north, to avoid encroachment on the British concentration zone.²⁶ On 3 August, Joffre further ordered two French divisions from Algeria and Morocco to the French left. He also made provision for the later transfer of two corps from Lorraine to the left wing once their concentration was complete and lateral railway movements again became possible.²⁷ The French thus hedged their bets against uncertain British participation in the face of German invasion of Belgium by preparing for the redeployment of French troops by rail to their left wing, as was done in the later “Marne manoeuvre.”²⁸ These measures nonetheless corresponded only to the prewar hypothesis of a narrow German violation

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of Belgian territory, which the French planned to thwart by an attack across the Ardennes. They in no way responded to the danger of a wide German sweep across Belgium, which would later come as a “complete surprise” to the French command.²⁹ On 3 August, however, the British Cabinet had not yet decided on military intervention on the Continent.³⁰ Unaware of the process of British decision making, Joffre still laboured under Wilson’s misleading assurance that Great Britain, if it came in at all, would do so at the same time as the French and would send the BEF to France, as in prewar staff planning.³¹ British mobilization, nonetheless, was three days behind that of the French. Three days’ delay in British mobilization raised the significant strategic question of whether the first major battles on the French left should be delayed in order to allow for participation of the BEF. According to schedule D (the timetable for the arrival of the British force), all six British divisions were expected to complete their staging in northern France sixteen days after the beginning of British mobilization.³² As British mobilization was ordered for 5 August, the French staff assumed, without even questioning whether the force would be sent, that British concentration would be complete sixteen days later, that is to say on 2 August. Joffre intended, however, according to the prewar plan, to launch the French offensive on 4 August, in concert with the Russian offensive in East Prussia.³³ The question was taken up on 5 August, as Joffre, on arriving with his staff at his headquarters at Vitry-le-François, assumed full command of the “French Armies of the Northeast.” Berthelot, his assistant chief of staff, recorded: “In a first meeting, General Joffre considered, with General Belin [chief of staff], Colonel Pont, head of the Third Bureau (operations) and myself, the consequences of the German attack in Belgium and the delay in the arrival of British forces. Should we wait for them? If so, it will probably be necessary to move the left of our forces back and to strike first with our right in order to hold German forces in the Vosges and Saar areas.”³⁴ The initial French strategy adopted the next day was shaped along these lines, with succeeding attacks in echelon from right to left. Although Berthelot’s diary does not allude to it, a major consideration of Joffre was undoubtedly to score an early victory in order to anchor public opinion and encourage France’s allies. Thus, on 7 August the French would launch a preliminary attack in Alsace in order to secure French forces on

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the upper Rhine and prepare for their later advance through the Vosges. As Italy had declared its neutrality on 4 August, French alpine divisions could now be used to reinforce the Vosges attack. The French would then launch major attacks from their right and centre in Alsace and Lorraine on 4 August to further draw in German forces on the French right. These attacks would synchronize with the Russian offensive in East Prussia, to be undertaken on French request, with the purpose of drawing German forces to the east.³⁵ The French would then launch their main offensive in the Belgian Ardennes, in cooperation with the British, but this attack would be delayed until 20 August to allow for the arrival of the British Expeditionary Force.³⁶ Initial French strategy was thus shaped around considerations of British arrival. This is a most significant fact because it demonstrates to what extent the French had already begun to depend on the British for support and to what lengths they were prepared to go to assure maximum British participation. What the French Command entirely failed to appreciate was that the dispatch of the British Expeditionary Force was not an automatic consequence of British mobilization but a question of “grand strategy,” requiring a separate decision. Stifled communications are at least partly to blame for the persistence of this misapprehension. The French government in fact received firm warnings from London on 4 August that the British were prepared to make war only by the blockade of German ports and that dispatch of the expeditionary force had not been envisaged, because the force was needed for the “defence of certain points” at home and because “public sentiment was not favourable to an expedition.”³⁷ Even the telegram announcing British mobilization warned that “no order has yet been given for the concentration of units in the ports of embarkation.”³⁸ The French archives provide no evidence that the French foreign ministry, following its leisurely peacetime procedure, ever passed on any of these warnings to the General Staff. On the other hand, BrigadierGeneral Wilson apparently on his own initiative, had “informed the French” sometime prior to 5 August that “if the British Government decided to go to war, they would send 5 Div[isions].”³⁹ The French staff appear to have relied on Wilson’s misleading assurances in the absence of information to the contrary and thus based their initial plan of attack on strategic decisions which in fact had yet to be made in London. On 5 August 94, Asquith convened an historic War Council at 0 Downing Street in London to deal with the strategic question. The coun-

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cil consisted of key ministers and the most distinguished generals and admirals of the realm. Public opinion, previously hostile, had crystallized in favour of an expedition to the Continent now that Great Britain had decided for war, and the Cabinet, previously divided on the issue, was more favourably disposed.⁴⁰ The chief business before the council therefore was to determine whether the British Expeditionary Force should be dispatched to the Continent at once and, if so, in what strength and to what location.⁴¹ The prewar concerns of the French General Staff in this regard were thus about to be answered. The dominant view of the military men on the strategic question was that the BEF should be dispatched to France at once, as arranged in prewar staff talks with the French. Sir John French, its designated commander, made the suggestion of landing the force at Antwerp, in line with his preferred strategy of marching into Belgium. But this proposal, for which no prewar plans had been made, was promptly challenged because Churchill did not consider the sea lanes safe that far north. A further complication was that the accesses to Antwerp through the mouth of the Scheldt were in the hands of the Dutch, whom it was thought would be neutral. The council thus fell back on the prewar plan worked out in joint staff talks with the French. The Royal Navy guaranteed safe transport of the expeditionary force across the Channel and set the risk of German invasion at home at the very minimum. The council thus ordered transports for embarkation of five of the six infantry divisions of the expeditionary force to the Continent, one division being deemed sufficient at home to meet the danger of invasion.⁴² The delay in British mobilization relative to that of the French raised the issue of the forward deployment of the BEF in British, as in French, strategic planning. But for the British the question was not whether the BEF should be rushed forward in time to participate in the first great battles, as desired by the French, but whether the forward staging of the BEF in the Maubeuge area, as designated in staff conversations, was safe. Sir John French’s suggestion of Amiens as an alternative staging area thus received considerable military support. At that location the BEF could either act as a reserve force to the French army or advance into Belgium. But the French plan also had to be considered. Thus, on the advice of Kitchener, it was decided that a French staff officer of high rank with “full information” should be invited to come to London the following day to converse with the British War Office in order to ascertain the wishes of the French Command.⁴³

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The next morning the British Cabinet approved, with little “demur,” the War Council’s decision for the “immediate dispatch of the Expeditionary Force.”⁴⁴ This decision was crucial. The immediate resources committed were slight and the mirage of a short war of limited liability persisted for some months, but once the BEF had been sent to the Continent, who could predict what the eventual commitment might be? On the afternoon of 6 August the War Council met a second time to wrap up its deliberations. But circumstances by this time had altered considerably. In response to popular demand from both Liberals and Unionists, Asquith had called in his “emergency man,” Kitchener, and made him secretary of state for war.⁴⁵ Accustomed to act as an imperial viceroy, Kitchener was resistant to civilian involvement in military administration.⁴⁶ “If there is a war and they want me,” he had written to L.S. Amery in 9, “I’ll take a house well away from the War Office and run the war from there.”⁴⁷ The reforms of the political-military structure since the turn of the century, which combined civilian rule with professional military advice, were consequently brushed aside as he took over control. Making his titanic influence felt at once, Kitchener forced an immediate re-evaluation of British military strategy at the War Council on 6 August. His prewar assessment of the strategic situation had been that “the Germans would beat the French,” an appraisal undoubtedly tempered by his own experience as a volunteer in the French army in 870– 7 and the lacklustre performance of that army in the Franco-Prussian war.⁴⁸ Unlike most of his contemporaries, Wilson in particular, whose prewar plan had been established in the expectation of a short cheap war, Kitchener believed in a long costly conflict requiring mobilization of the resources of the British Empire. He thus startled his Cabinet colleagues at their first meeting the same day by announcing that the war would last for three years and that a mass army of millions would be required to win it. He thus sought approval for the first draft of 00,000 volunteers.⁴⁹ Already Kitchener had formulated his basic strategy that would ultimately result in Allied victory.⁵⁰ But his requested communication with the French had not yielded any result. In response to the British request for a high-ranking staff officer, with “full information,” to convey French wishes on the zone of British concentration, the French War Ministry sent Colonel Victor Huguet to London on 6 August. But he had gone in such great haste that “he had no recent information of French dispositions and intentions.”⁵¹ From the

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British point of view, his mission was thus of no avail, leaving the British to decide for themselves on the staging area. Doubtful about initial French victory and concerned about a wide German sweep across Belgium, Kitchener preferred to have the BEF act initially as a reserve force to the French army.⁵² To this strategic assessment was added his initial bumbling at the War Office which occasioned an unanticipated delay. Owing to an “unreasonable scare as to a contemplated hostile landing on the east coast,” Kitchener ordered troops to the eastern seacoast during the day on 6 August, with little regard for the timetable for dispatch of the force to France. This disruption of railway arrangements, Wilson bitterly complained at the War Council, would result in a further two days’ delay for dispatch of the BEF to France. And as concentration must not take place nearer than three days’ march from the enemy, the BEF, he argued, would not be ready for action for another twenty days, or until 26 August. From this rather pessimistic appraisal, Sir John French concluded that concentration should not then be farther forward than Amiens, to which Kitchener heartily agreed.⁵³ The first day for embarkation of the force was thus delayed two days, from 7 to 9 August, and Amiens was selected as the staging area for the force, placing the BEF in a reserve position on the left and to the rear of French forces.⁵⁴ To further complicate matters, members of the Cabinet had expressed concern that morning, in view of the troubled situation in Ireland, that only one of the six infantry divisions of the BEF was to remain behind. Kitchener therefore proposed that two remain behind and only four be sent to France initially, with a fifth to follow when circumstances permitted, and a sixth to be held in reserve for dispatch at a later date. One cavalry division, not two as in prewar planning, would accompany the force.⁵⁵ The long-term objective of Kitchener’s strategy was the creation of a mass British army to win the war for the British Empire. The short-term objective, while giving a modicum of support to the French, was to husband British forces until such time as his New Armies could be recruited, trained, and equipped for action in the field. Kitchener’s immediate strategic goals were clearly spelled out in the instructions he gave on 9 August to Sir John French, who was to command the BEF in France. While instructing Sir John to cooperate with the French, Kitchener’s primary concern was the safety of the force. Designating Amiens as the

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staging area for the BEF, he warned against forward movements when large bodies of French troops were not engaged. The BEF was to maintain its entire liberty of action. “You will in no case come in any sense under the orders of any Allied general,” he instructed.⁵⁶ Needless to say, the limited commitment to French strategic goals and the independence of action prescribed in those instructions would be a fundamental cause of difficulty in British Command relations with the French. Kitchener in fact believed that the BEF would be thrown back to the Channel ports. He carefully spelled out to Sir John that he should fall back, if necessary, not to the Channel ports but upon his line of communications.⁵⁷ “Though we might have to retire to the coast,” he explained in a secret instruction to Sir Archibald Murray, French’s chief of staff, he did not intend to leave the Continent but rather “to hang on until he sent reinforcements.” Already he envisaged the mobilization of twentyeight divisions for that purpose.⁵⁸ The scenario of a partial Allied victory in a reduced time frame, requiring immediate reinforcements, hardly appears to have occurred to him. The new secretary of state for war, reported Colonel de la Panouse, the French military attaché in London, a few days later, was “an enemy of the offensive,” “imbued with the principles of colonial warfare.” Additionally, Panouse correctly postulated that Kitchener’s plan for mass armies was designed to win a peace favourable to the British in the face of a weakened France and strong Russia.⁵⁹ Indeed, Kitchener’s reshaping of British strategy dealt a severe blow to the immediate plans of the French Command. The French General Staff was astounded by the reduction in the size of the British force. “After their hesitation to take up action on our side, and the time lost in deciding on the mobilization of their forces,” wrote Berthelot in his diary on 7 August, “the British Government reduce their co-operation to 4 infantry divisions and 5 cavalry brigades.” “What are their second thoughts?” he wrote; “and will we be able to count seriously on such allies?”⁶⁰ But even more significant were the related decisions for embarkation of the BEF on 9 August and concentration of the force at Amiens, which grossly upset Joffre’s initial strategy for the Allied left wing. Inexplicably, although the War Ministry in Paris had knowledge on 7 August that the transportation of British troops would not begin until two days later, this information was never relayed to French headquarters. Joffre and his staff thus remained completely ignorant of the delay until 9 August,

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when Colonel Huguet, returning from London, brought the news of both decisions.⁶¹ In London, Huguet had once again been asked by Kitchener to ascertain Joffre’s wish with regard to the zone of British concentration. The revised timetable which Huguet carried to Grand quartier général on his return showed concentration of the BEF beginning on 9 August and ending on 23 August.⁶² Allowing for a three-day march forward from the new concentration zone at Amiens, the British would not be available for action until 26 August, that is to say, six full days after the expected French left-wing engagement with the enemy.⁶³ Joffre, “exasperated” with what appeared to be renewed British “equivocation,” took a very energetic stance.⁶⁴ Having already adjusted French strategic plans to allow for an initial three-day delay in British participation, he was unwilling to delay further the French attack on the left wing to 26 August to allow for British participation, as he feared losing initiative to the enemy. He thus resolved to proceed with his left-wing offensive as planned, with or without British support.⁶⁵ But in contrast to his quiescence during the period of initial British decision making on the questions of entry into the war and intervention on the Continent, Joffre, now bolstered by the British decision to intervene, immediately brought to bear all the resources at his disposal to obtain a more favourable initial British strategy. He turned first to his government on 9 August. Appealing to both the war minister and the president of the Republic, Joffre urged them, in view of the “political value” of even limited British participation, to request that at least some British troops be pushed forward rapidly, “be it only one division,” in order to allow British participation in the first great battles of the war.⁶⁶ To President Poincaré, Joffre argued further that the support of British troops, even after the first great battles of the war, would be “of great importance in the development of later operations, “on condition that their arrival was not too long delayed.”⁶⁷ The government, in full accord, immediately relayed Joffre’s request that at least some British troops be pushed forward more rapidly to engage in the first battles⁶⁸ – but without tangible results. By evening, the War Office had replied categorically that any change in the transportation plan was virtually impossible and “would only cause disorder and resulting delays.”⁶⁹ Joffre’s first use of the diplomatic channel in response to British strategic decision making thus came to naught.

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In consequence, the old image of the British as “slow” and “late” was reinforced in the minds of the French General Staff. “The British are hardly in a hurry,” wrote Berthelot on 9 August.⁷⁰ An officer of the Third Bureau also noted his disappointment at the British delay, which he attributed, in a later analysis, not to the vicissitudes of British politics but to the muddling British mentality and temperament.⁷¹ The image of the British as slow and late had already become a sufficient explanation for the delay. The real drama was yet to be enacted, however, on the question of the concentration zone. The French Command objected even more strenuously to the proposed British detrainment at Amiens than to the new timetable.⁷² From the French point of view, such a rearward concentration – from which Kitchener intended to deploy his forces only after a preliminary period of rest – was totally devastating, since it would upset the forward disposition of the Allied left wing and would rule out British participation in the first great clash with the enemy. According to a very optimistic calculation on the part of Huguet, however, British combatant units would arrive two days before the arrival of their supply columns on 23 August, and the British would thus be able to advance on the twenty-first, just one day after the French offensive planned for the twentieth. Although maintenance of the original concentration zone allowed the British absolutely no margin of safety, even in the event of a minor German sweep across Belgium as the French still anticipated, Joffre instructed Huguet to insist, on his return to London, that the British maintain the original concentration zone in order to prevent the total ruination of the French plan.⁷³ Maintenance of the original zone was a risky and audacious venture, even on the basis of the information then available, a risk that an ally could hardly demand in good conscience. It would prove doubly hazardous in the event, as the ten or eleven German army corps in Belgium that the French knew of at that time proved to be but the avant garde of the twenty German corps and cavalry that were reserved for a wide sweep across Belgium extending far to the left of the small British force on the French left flank.⁷⁴ Although one further day was ultimately gained on the British transportation schedule as a result of the smaller forces sent, making British concentration “virtually complete” except for supply columns by 20 August, the British, in their forward position, would encounter superior German forces only two days later, on 22 August.⁷⁵

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The great task of obtaining approval for the old concentration zone and of reversing Kitchener’s initially defensive strategy for the BEF fell to Huguet, who, with another French officer, arrived in London on 2 August. Though very pessimistic on 6 August about the possibility of forward British deployment, the francophile Wilson became an immediate convert to the French plan. Armed with “all the German and French dispositions,” such as they believed them to be, Wilson and the French officers then “went into the whole situation” with Sir John French, with the result that “Sir John plumped for a concentration in our old area.”⁷⁶ As on many occasions later, the persuasive and optimistic Wilson demonstrated his capacity to convince Sir John. But Kitchener, who now had strategic direction of the war, was another matter. Possessing a “great will” and being “excessively headstrong,” he could not be persuaded easily. This was especially true in the present situation because the French request was diametrically opposed to Kitchener’s basic strategy, which, for reasons already explained, was to prepare a solid base for the BEF at Amiens on the Somme and then to advance only after an initial German onslaught against the French.⁷⁷ Sir John, Murray, Wilson, and the French delegation, now increased to three Frenchmen, “wrangled” with Kitchener fruitlessly for three hours on the afternoon of 2 August, trying to persuade him to accept the original concentration zone. Relations between Wilson and Kitchener had further soured badly because of a serious row on 7 August over Wilson’s communication of British plans to the French without permission, and because of Kitchener’s planned reorganization of the Aldershot command, which would further disrupt Wilson’s nigh sacred timetable. Elements of a power struggle had become visible as Kitchener assumed the reigns of power from the independent-minded Wilson, who had exercised a wide range of discretionary powers as prewar director of military operations. The meeting was thus very heated. As Wilson recorded in his diary, Kitchener “wanted to go to Amiens and he was incapable of understanding the delay & difficulties of making such a change nor the cowardice of it, nor the fact that in either French victory or defeat we would be equally useless.” A better judge of German intention than either Wilson or the French, Kitchener continued to argue with great prescience that the Germans would advance “north of the Meuse in great force” and thus “swamp” the British before they concentrated.⁷⁸ The French party nevertheless had one major point in its favour. In his suggestion on 5 August that a high-ranking French staff officer with “full

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information” be invited to converse on the matter, Kitchener had shown his conviction of the need to cooperate strategically with the French Command. Thus although he initially resisted the French request for the forward zone and even obtained Asquith’s support for his stance, later in the evening his sense of Allied solidarity carried the day. So despite serious misgivings, he agreed to maintain the original concentration zone in the Maubeuge–Hirson–Le Cateau triangle in deference to the wishes of the French.⁷⁹ The incident established a pattern that was to prevail throughout Kitchener’s term as secretary of state for war. A differing conception of strategy had brought him into immediate conflict with the French High Command. Despite remarkable intuitive insight and judgment in this instance, as in many others later, he finally gave in, largely because of his recognition of the need to cooperate fully with the French on strategic matters in order to obtain maximum results in the field. Kitchener also had very grave doubts about the French ability to stand alone and feared invasion should they fail. He thus deferred to French strategic demands on this as on many other matters during the next twenty months of war, leaving the operational strategy of Anglo-French forces largely up to Joffre.⁸⁰ This pattern was one of the peculiarities of Anglo-French military relations in the Joffre-Kitchener period. The French Command greeted the news that the original concentration zone of the British force had been maintained with considerable satisfaction on 3 August.⁸¹ Although only four British infantry divisions and one cavalry division were to come, their forward concentration, scheduled for not later than 23 August, opened anew the possibility of associating British forces with the major offensive of the French armies of the left flank to follow close on the heels of the large diversionary attacks in Lorraine ordered for 4 August. The British, nonetheless, would have to agree to advance on 2 August before the arrival of all their transports. Such was the hope of the French Command, despite the uncertainties of the situation when, three days later on 6 August, Sir John French arrived at Grand quartier général (GQG ) to make the acquaintance of the French commander-in-chief and to agree upon a common plan.⁸² Impressed with the “total absence of fuss and confusion” at French headquarters and the calm and deliberation of the French Command, Sir John entertained high hopes of a successful advance.⁸³ Thanks to the good staff work of Wilson, British concentration, once begun, proceeded “up to time” and “without a hitch.”⁸⁴ Thus, on 9 August the British

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Command, “desirous of co-operating the soonest possible” with French operations, decided, as requested by Joffre on 6 August, to launch the forward movement of its army on the twenty-first, even before the arrival of its supply column.⁸⁵ The long vigil of the French Command over the arrival of the British forces had come to an end. French strategy had triumphed. Despite the hesitations and delay in arrival of the BEF and the resultant ire and disappointment of the French Command, the revised French strategy adopted on 6 August to allow British cooperation in the initial attacks of the French left had not been seriously impaired. The British army would indeed participate in the first great battles of the Allied left wing.⁸⁶

Conclusion So far as French policy was concerned, one of the major objectives had been achieved as Great Britain entered the war. Moreover, the British had decided with relative celerity to enter the war and, with but a little delay, to dispatch the BEF to France. Though small in size, the force engaged the honour of the empire. The British, with their immense resources, could thus be expected to see the war through to a successful conclusion. French policy had scored a considerable success. The most startling aspect of Anglo-French military relations in the early events of the war, therefore, is the degree of conflict in the relationship. As a result of a faulty initial perception and either incomplete or inaccurate information, the French General Staff had laboured under three illusions: that the British would enter the war at once, that British mobilization would be simultaneous, or nearly so, with that of the French, and that dispatch of the BEF would follow automatically. When these expectations were not met, French recriminations arose, as one might expect. Joffre’s initial communication problems with the British thus fitted relatively well into the Neustadt model of “muddled perceptions, stifled communications, disappointed expectations, [and] paranoid reactions.”⁸⁷ But deeper issues were at the root of the problem. At the political level, the visible disquiet of French political leaders during the initial period of British reluctance to enter the war demonstrated that, despite the informal nature of the prewar Entente, the French had come to count to a large extent on British support. Strategically, once the German invasion

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of Belgium cleared the way for Joffre’s preferred assault on the French left wing, the BEF, cast as a contingent role in prewar planning, became a significant part of the French plan. As a result, the French staff reshaped its strategy on 6 August to include the BEF in its left-wing offensive, which required the immediate dispatch of the British force to a forward position. But Kitchener, newly appointed British secretary of state for war, in a broad re-evaluation of British strategy, preferred to have the BEF deploy farther to the rear, to act as a contingency force. His instructions to Sir John, designating Amiens as the British concentration zone, prescribed that British military commitment to the war in France would be strictly limited and the BEF completely independent. Kitchener’s overall strategy for conduct of the war was to mobilize British manpower and resources for a long war. The differing strategies of the two countries thus came to clash on the question of the BEF ’s concentration zone. But British strategy was soon interpreted by the French in terms of their own analysis of British character. The British by definition would be “slow, late and unaggressive.” Ultimately, however, against his better judgment, Kitchener agreed to a forward concentration zone for the BEF, and Sir John French obligingly consented to move forward on 2 August, even before the arrival of his supply train. The British, from their point of view, had been more than generous. British officers therefore were not a little surprised to find their French counterparts in the field making comments such as “At last you are here,” “It is not a moment too soon,” and “If we are beaten, we will owe it all to you.”88 If the French and the British were uneasy allies in the First World War, a major contributing factor was a differing strategy from the outset. Anglo-French experience relating to fielding the BEF could hardly be said to have laid the foundation of the confidence and trust that was required for the immeasurably more difficult task of fighting the war together.

CHAPTER five

Collapse and Renewal: From the Battle of the Frontiers to the Battle of the Marne

As the Armies of France and the British Expeditionary Force took to the field in August 94, the military commanders and staffs of the two forces were brought into immediate contact with each other. The tenor of relationships was thus set as the British fell in with French strategy to take the offensive against the German onslaught. But defeat in the lost frontier battles led to collapse in Allied cooperation in the field. Compelled to retreat, Joffre redeployed major forces to strengthen his left wing and attempted repeatedly to mount a concerted effort to strike back. Only a highly fortuitous series of circumstances, punctuated by a strong demonstration of Allied political solidarity, allowed for the realization of the “miracle” of the Marne, in which combined Anglo-French forces scored a decisive victory against the German army.

British Cooperation with the French Plan Sir John French was cheered in the streets on his arrival in Paris on 5 August 94 to discuss the military situation with French political leaders. Meeting with Poincaré, Viviani, and Messimy, Sir John was impressed with the French president’s assessment of the prospect for victory. In contrast, Poincaré was unimpressed with the demeanour of the little field marshal, whom, among other things, he faulted for speaking hardly any French.¹

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On the day following, Sir John, accompanied by Murray and Wilson, visited Joffre at his headquarters at Vitry-le-François to discuss the proposed French plan of operations. “I had a long interview with him & his C[hief] of S[taff] Gen[eral] Berthelot,” Sir John recorded in his journal. “They were very jubilant on account of the capture of a German Flag which had been brought in. I was much struck by the attitude and bearing[,] which prevailed throughout the Staff.”² “They are very deliberate, calm and confident,” he reported enthusiastically to Kitchener, noting a “total absence of fuss & confusion and a determination to give only a just & proper value to any reported success.”³ But to Joffre’s dismay, the British chief asserted at once the independence of his command. Faced with the task of obtaining voluntary British cooperation, Joffre attempted to establish as confiding a relationship as possible.⁴ “Gen[eral] Joffre explained the general situation [and] the rôle he wished me to play in alternative circumstances,” Sir John recorded. “He handed me their views in writing with a short appreciation of the situation by the C[hief] of the G[eneral] S[taff].”⁵ The strategy presented in the meeting was essentially that drawn up by the French Command on 6 August, but the details of the decisive attack on the French left had yet to be arranged. Joffre’s strategy, based on French prewar conceptions of a minor German incursion into Belgium east of the Meuse, gave little credence to intelligence reports of a possibly more serious wheeling movement across Belgium and northern France.⁶ This strategy also ignored the advice of more perceptive observers such as General Charles Lanrezac, commander of the Fifth Army, whose haranguing at GQG two days earlier about a wide German sweep across Belgium was unappreciated.⁷ The French Command optimistically planned for the Third and Fourth Armies to launch the major attack in the Ardennes toward Metz into what was believed to be the German centre, while the Fifth Army, with the cooperation of the BEF on its left, would cross the Sambre to meet whatever German elements traversed the Meuse north of Namur.⁸ This plan required that the British move forward from Maubeuge to Mons on 2 August in conjunction with the forward movement of the Fifth Army on its right.⁹ Stating that his forces would not be ready until 24 August, Sir John nevertheless promised to consider the earlier date. Thus, Anglo-French military cooperation had a suitable beginning, with

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Sir John showing his willingness to cooperate with the French plan, as a result of the good impression made on him by the French General Staff and the immediate prospects of success.¹⁰ In the absence of any formalized command relationship, much would depend on the British chief’s confidence in the French military leaders and their plan.

Lanrezac and the British Sir John’s initial meeting with Lanrezac at Rethel the next day en route to British Headquarters at Le Cateau was less positive. Lanrezac had already been frustrated by Joffre’s unwillingness to allow him to extend leftward into the British zone while the British were concentrating, and by the tardiness of the BEF. Lanrezac disliked Englishmen and had little confidence in the fighting capability of the BEF. His abruptness and unconcealed disdain rendered him incompatible with the gentlemanly Sir John. The latter’s relative slowness, for want of understanding French, to grasp Lanrezac’s evaluation of the military situation compounded the difficulty.¹¹ The two commanders discussed a plan for their cooperation in the forward movement prescribed by Joffre. Sir John raised objections to Joffre’s request that the British move forward on the twenty-first, which the French staff had wrongly interpreted as a firm decision, and insisted as before that the BEF would not be ready until 24 August.¹² After Sir John’s departure, Lanrezac asked French headquarters if the British concentration zone could be shifted to the rear to allow for his army to retreat into it if need be. But Joffre’s staff insisted that the original plan must be maintained.¹³ Sir John and Lanrezac also argued about the use of the British cavalry, which Lanrezac wished to join with his own for reconnaissance. Sir John’s view prevailed, which favoured his cavalry’s retention as a cover on his left and as a potential reserve until the arrival of a fifth British division.¹⁴ Distrust and misunderstanding between the two leaders was thus evident from the start – to hinder effective cooperation in the field long afterward.¹⁵ But Sir John was undaunted. To Kitchener he reported merely that he had “had a long talk” with Lanrezac, who had shown him his plans “in detail” and “arranged for co-operation in alternate circumstances.”¹⁶ Sir John’s first impressions may indeed have been skewed in favour of Lanrezac who, as a former professor at the Ecole de guerre, had a consider-

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able reputation as a commander and strategist.¹⁷ In his journal Sir John noted that “Gen[eral] Lanrezac appears a very capable soldier” and that “the general condition of affairs at the headquarters of the V Army left the same favourable impression on his mind” as that he had of Joffre.¹⁸ Thus, in spite of strains in his initial encounter with the commander of the French Fifth Army, Sir John signified to Joffre on 9 August his willingness to move forward on 2 August.¹⁹ Undeterred by reports of large German concentrations north of the Meuse, Joffre issued final orders on the twentieth for the principal attack in the Ardennes to be launched the next day.²⁰ On 2 August, orders were issued for the secondary attack of the Fifth Army and BEF against the German right flank for one day after the Ardennes offensive, 22 August.²¹ Thus, the strategy was set in motion that would lead to the initial French and British defeats.²²

Defeat in the Frontier Battles and the Breakdown of Allied Cooperation The French First and Second Armies had already been thrust back from Lorraine on 20 August. The Ardennes offensive, which was the main French attack, then foundered in successive actions on 22–23 August, in which French forces had a superiority of eleven to nine corps over their German opponents. According to the German tally, enemy forces north of the Verdun-Metz axis were very equally matched, with fortyone Anglo-French divisions opposed to forty German divisions and with seven cavalry divisions on each side. The French had numerical superiority in the Ardennes, but the Allies were badly outnumbered on the far left.²³ German use of heavy artillery, better tactical integration of infantry and artillery, the better quality of German reserves, and better field commanders all undoubtedly played a role in the German victory in the initial frontier battles.²⁴ But the reversal of German fortunes on the Marne, after some tactical re-education of the French army and rejuvenation of its commanders, would suggest that the French forces were not basically inferior to the German.²⁵ The main problem on the far left was that French strategy had failed to fully counter the wide German deployment. While the French Fifth Army was roughly equivalent to the German Second Army, which forced it back at Charleroi on 23 August, the BEF, facing the German First Army

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on the far left at Mons on 24 August, was overwhelmed by forces more than double its size.²⁶ The Belgian army had resisted the German attack at Liège until 7 August and then withdrew on 9 August to its last stronghold at Antwerp.²⁷ Had the retreating Belgian forces positioned themselves on the Allied left as Joffre had urged repeatedly, they might have helped redress the imbalance in that theatre, but this was not possible in the absence of a concerted prewar plan. Thus, lack of a coordinated Allied strategy and coordination between commands – British, Belgian, and French – also contributed to the Allied defeat. The failure of French strategy in the frontier battles accentuated AngloFrench friction, making coordination of neighbouring but independent forces extremely difficult. A military setback was bound to produce tensions in Allied relationships, but the particular circumstance surrounding the Allied defeat on the frontiers left Sir John thinking he had been treated unfairly. Ironically, Sir John, fired with enthusiasm over the prospect of a successful advance, had proved more compliant with Joffre’s plan than Lanrezac, commanding the French Fifth Army, on his right. Thus, on 2 August Sir John had assured Joffre of his full support and willingness to cooperate fully with Lanrezac in the joint offensive.²⁸ This satisfied Joffre, who insisted that the plan be implemented with vigour.²⁹ Rather than advance, however, Lanrezac disregarded Joffre’s instructions and adopted a defensive operational plan. He thus decided to anchor the left of his army behind the Sambre, leaving the British exposed when they advanced toward Mons; the advance of his right flank he also delayed until 23 August to allow the advancing Fourth Army to free his I Corps from flank duty on the Meuse.³⁰ Moreover, Lanrezac failed to inform the British of his intentions, allowing them to advance while his army remained on the defensive behind the Sambre. Sir John, learning unofficially in the evening of 2 August via his liaison officer, Colonel Edward Spears, that Lanrezac favoured a defensive action, set out the next morning to consult with his neighbour. He turned back when he met Spears returning from Lanrezac’s advanced post, which he had moved forward from Chimay to Mettet, to direct the battle against Karl von Bülow’s Second Army advancing across the Sambre. Sir John thus proceeded as planned, moving British troops forward to Mons on 22 August.³¹ But Lanrezac, who had been kept informed of British actions, disappointed Sir John by his defen-

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sive action at Charleroi on 22 August, providing no support to advancing British forces. Sir John became increasingly suspicious of Lanrezac’s intentions, based on Spears’s further reports, and after consultation with Murray decided to countermand the intended advance of the BEF for 23 August – fortuitously saving his small force from an adventurous isolated action.³² Sir John’s confidence in the French plan had already begun to wane. The British chief’s growing irritation with Lanrezac for his failure to support the BEF ’s right flank was further manifest in his late-night demand on 22 August that French reserve divisions be moved up to fill the gap between British forces and Lanrezac’s left.³³ Lanrezac acquiesced, moving two reserve divisions on his far left as far forward as Maubeuge the next day, establishing contact with the rear of British forces.³⁴ When Lanrezac queried the British leader about his intentions, Sir John pointedly asserted his willingness to fulfill his allotted role “when the 5th Army advances to the attack.”³⁵ Lanrezac, less gallantly, continued to complain about the British and to distort their actions in his discussions with GQG , claiming they were still an echelon to his rear.³⁶ Events then overtook British efforts to coordinate the offensive when their left wing west of Mons, consisting of three divisions, was attacked on 23 August by five German divisions of Alexander von Kluck’s First Army.³⁷ The British held their ground, but in the night they were obliged to order a retreat to the Valenciennes-Maubeuge line, a decision further necessitated by the fall of Namur the same day and reports of the retreat of the Fifth Army to the Maubeuge-Rocroy line on their right. The necessity for British withdrawal from Mons was confirmed by a late-night telegram from Joffre indicating that the British had two and a half corps and two cavalry corps in front of them.³⁸ The twenty-third of August was thus a very bleak day at French headquarters, as bad news came in from all along the front, with the French Second and First Armies being thrust back to their original positions in Lorraine, and the defeat in the Ardennes.³⁹ Late at night Lanrezac, his centre thrust back from successive days’ fighting at Charleroi and his right flank exposed, also ordered a general retreat to the MaubeugePhillippeville-Givet line.⁴⁰ The loss of the so-called Battle of the Frontiers signalled the failure of Joffre’s strategy and punctured Sir John’s confidence in the French Command. He at once told Kitchener of his plan to retreat along his lines of

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communication to Amiens, as Kitchener had instructed, and requested the defence of Le Havre with British troops.⁴¹ The alacrity with which the British government responded to Sir John’s request by offering to defend Le Havre with 6,000 troops, abandoning Boulogne as a base and establishing a new base at Cherbourg, suggests that Sir John was in step with the British policy of limited commitment to continental defence and unwillingness to lose the BEF in a risky campaign in France.⁴² Lanrezac’s empty offer on 24 August to attack if the British did the same sealed Sir John’s disenchantment with Lanrezac and the French Command.⁴³ With difficulty, the British retreated from Mons to the Maubeuge-Valenciennes line on 24 August, sustaining losses of 2,200 in the lost Battle of Mons. The troops were in good spirits but very irritated at being compelled to retreat without having fought.⁴⁴ News via Spears that the entire French left was in retreat finally shattered Sir John’s confidence in the French Command.⁴⁵ Writing to Kitchener on 25 August, he complained that the French “do not keep me sufficiently informed of the general situation” and “they evidently try to conceal reverses or compulsory retirements”; moreover, he said, not only had Lanrezac’s actions lost the initiative to the enemy, but he had actually pulled back, leaving the British seriously exposed. Sir John further complained that his attempts to persuade the French Command of the need for a vigorous offensive had fallen on deaf ears. In view of the French actions, he intended to continue his retreat, grateful that his line of communication to Amiens was safe.⁴⁶ Sir John’s determination to husband his forces and keep open his line of retreat symbolized a full-circle swing in sentiment caused by his loss of confidence in the French Command. The delayed British arrival, conflict between Sir John and Lanrezac, and Lanrezac’s cavalier behaviour toward both the French Command and the British had contributed to the bad state of Allied military relations following the retreat from Mons. But more crucial was the failure of French strategy, compelling retreat and undermining Sir John’s confidence in the French Command and the future of the campaign. As Brian Bond wrote of the 940 campaign, “Sharply differing national preoccupations and mutual suspicions, which had never been successfully subordinated to the needs of the alliance, quickly surfaced when things began to go wrong, making further cooperation even more difficult.” “In grave difficulty,” he wrote, “the British will always look to their ships.”⁴⁷ This was as much true in the First World War as in the Second.

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Serious difficulties were also experienced between the French and Belgians following the lost Battle of the Frontiers. The Belgian strategy was to hold on to key fortresses at Liège and Namur as long as possible and then retreat to the fortress at Antwerp.⁴⁸ Joffre’s strategy was for the Belgian army to retreat southward to join up with French and British forces. The six infantry divisions and cavalry division of the Belgian army would have helped to rectify the imbalance on the Anglo-French left. But the Belgians, despite Joffre’s repeated urging, clung to their prewar strategy. Driven back in stages from Liège to Antwerp, the Belgian army nevertheless succeeded in occupying two German corps in front of Antwerp and even led a sortie on 24 August at a moment critical to the success of the Allied cause. Namur also retained two German corps until its fall the same day. But cooperation between the two commands had all but ceased to exist and consisted of little more than the exchange of messages as German forces overran the country.⁴⁹

Joffre’s Aisne Plan The failure of the Battle of the Frontiers left the French Command temporarily without a strategic plan and consigned to an indeterminate retreat until such time as a counteroffensive could be mounted.⁵⁰ Joffre hoped that the Russian offensive in East Prussia would divert German troops to the east, thus reducing pressure on the Western Front.⁵¹ Over the next few days, the French Command gradually evolved a new strategic plan that involved the placement of French troops on the British left flank, with the hope of facing the Germans on the Aisne. On 23 August, even before the British retreat from Mons, Joffre, concerned about lack of cohesion on the Allied left, had secretly obtained permission from the minister of war to have two reserve divisions of the Paris mobile guard moved forward to Amiens to cover the British left flank. By encasing British forces – whose fighting capacity Joffre may already have begun to doubt – with French troops under his direct command, he would more effectively bind the British to French strategic control and at the same time bolster the strength of his endangered left wing.⁵² During the next two days these arrangements and others were consolidated into a plan aimed at striking a decisive counterstroke on the German right flank. Having pulled back his Alsatian army on 23 August

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with the intent of diverting forces from it to “reinforce the extreme left,” Joffre decided the next day to deploy by rail all available forces from his right-wing armies east of Verdun, now placed on the defensive, to the French left.⁵³ On 25 August he further decided in favour of Gamelin’s proposal – sustained by the Third Bureau – that an army be assembled on the British left to take the German right wing in its outer flank, while rejecting as too risky Berthelot’s suggestion that the new army be deployed behind the left wing of the Fifth Army to take the German right wing in the “inner” flank.⁵⁴ The new Sixth Army, consisting of the two mobile divisions from Paris, three divisions from Alsace, and two from Lorraine, would concentrate on the Allied left around Amiens. This strategic manoeuvre, making innovative use of French railways, was intended to permit a renewed Allied offensive on the Aisne.⁵⁵ Although brilliant in conception, Joffre’s Aisne manoeuvre was doomed to failure, because the resources deployed could not match the numerically superior Germans, whom the Allies continued to underestimate, since they were not yet aware of the reserve corps – equal to the number of active corps – in von Kluck’s army;⁵⁶ and because the manoeuvre was not mounted far enough to the rear to allow sufficient time for its completion. Moreover, the British, thrust back with serious losses at Le Cateau on 26 August, were unable to carry out the holding action assigned them in the plan. In the meantime, the French Command sought to increase the fighting capacity of its armies by firing the top generals who commanded losing divisions, improving tactical coordination, and instigating action against deserters.⁵⁷ Having heard reports of flagging morale in some units, Joffre took drastic action. “Deserters, if there be any,” said a terse directive, “will be pursued and shot.”⁵⁸ Joffre’s new plan for a counterstroke on the Aisne faced immediate difficulties because of the problem of coordination on the Allied left wing and because of the continued bickering of Sir John French and Lanrezac. Lanrezac complained loudly of Sir John’s threat to fall back on his line of communication to Amiens, which would threaten his own flank.⁵⁹ To get Sir John’s commitment to the Aisne plan and to resolve the problems between him and Lanrezac, Joffre arranged an interview with both at the new British headquarters at St Quentin on 26 August.⁶⁰ General Albert d’Amade, commanding the two French reserve divisions and a territorial division on the British left, Berthelot, Murray, Wilson, and Huguet also attended. The conference began as news filtered in of the

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disastrous British engagement at Le Cateau. The ensuing meeting was charged with emotion, with Sir John complaining of the lack of support from the Fifth Army, and Lanrezac complaining of the British retreat on his line of march.⁶¹ While the meeting did little to salve the strained and acrimonious relationship between the two men, beyond defining the line of demarcation between their armies, it did alert Joffre and Berthelot to the gravity of the situation.⁶² Joffre was successful, nevertheless, in temporarily restoring Sir John’s confidence and in gaining his adhesion to the new plan. The new manoeuvre in open country, Joffre said, would give his superior field artillery full scope for action. “There is nothing seriously wrong with our allies and Gen[eral] Joffre’s new plan promises much better results,” Sir John reported to Kitchener. To coordinate with the new plan, he would thus retreat southward through St Quentin–Handsoyon, rather than westward toward Amiens.⁶³ Thus, despite initially bad news on the Le Cateau engagement, Sir John agreed to retreat as “slowly and deliberately as possible” in conjunction with the French forces on either side, until he was in a position “to take the offensive.”⁶⁴ The conference, like many to follow, was an attempt by the French Command to obtain a greater return from available British forces – but, as always, in accordance with French strategic planning. Moreover, Joffre was not content to work only with the available British forces in the field when others might be had in London. To this end he readily persuaded Sir John, who was alarmed by a rumour that the 6th Division might be sent to join British naval forces in Belgium, to press Kitchener for its dispatch to France.⁶⁵ But the Cabinet, having limited Kitchener’s right to allocate divisions at will, rejected this request, retaining the division for home defence until the arrival of garrison troops from the empire.⁶⁶ This episode established a pattern: Joffre could always count on Sir John’s support in pressing Kitchener and the Cabinet to obtain the dispatch of British troops to the French front.

The Battle of Le Cateau and the Collapse of Allied Cooperation On 26 August the British II Corps, under the command of General Horace Smith-Dorrien, fought a disastrous battle against the superior forces of von Kluck’s First Army at Le Cateau. This “rout,” as it was referred to at the time, led to the British decision to drop out of the battle

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line and flee to safety, leaving a huge gap in the French line between the French Fifth Army on their right and the forming French Sixth Army on their left. Effective cooperation in the field ceased for several days, in spite of Joffre’s energetic efforts to rally his British allies. Despite the heroic face put on the Battle of Le Cateau by the official British history,⁶⁷ the British decision to stand at Le Cateau on 26 August against known superior forces must be viewed as a foolhardy adventure, contrary to instructions not to engage when large bodies of French troops were not involved. The halt in the British retreat and the ensuing battle stemmed from Sir John’s indecision and Wilson’s dominance at British Headquarters, coupled with the failure of Murray’s health. Having retreated with difficulty from Mons to the partially dug-in Cambrai–Le Cateau line on 25 August, Smith-Dorrien, who had been instructed to continue his retreat, claimed that his men were too tired to withdraw farther and, strengthened by the newly arrived 4th Division advancing on his left, argued in favour of holding his ground. Sir John, while encouraging further retreat, vacillated and gave him full liberty to decide his course.⁶⁸ Then Wilson, contrary to the intent of his chief, during the night encouraged Smith-Dorrien to make a firm stand. According to Wilson’s account, when Murray, the voice of caution at British Headquarters, heard of Smith-Dorrien’s request at 7:00 am , he took a “fainting” spell and went back to bed.⁶⁹ No orders were thus given to withdraw. On 26 August the three British divisions and one cavalry division associated with II Corps’s action stood all day against superior German forces twice their size, with inevitable results. The 5th Division on the right was badly mauled by superior German artillery, and it withdrew in considerable disorder when partially outflanked. Bearing the brunt of a German flanking movement, the 4th Division on the left, late in its withdrawal, sustained even greater losses. Men of various units were intermixed in these two divisions as the soldiers trod to safety. In the centre, 3rd Division was able to effect a more orderly late withdrawal and suffered fewer casualties. Smith-Dorrien’s II Corps was well sustained on its left by General d’Amade’s three divisions and the belated advance of General Sordet’s Cavalry Corps, thwarting a German attempt at envelopment. But the British I Corps under General Sir Douglas Haig on the right, which had been separated from II Corps in the retreat from Mons by the Mormal Forest and was dispersed over a front of thirty kilometres, did not come to its aid and was not engaged. Happily, the Germans

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did not discover the gap of several kilometres between the two corps. But II Corps suffered heavy losses – 38 of its guns and 8,000 men, or about 5 per cent.⁷⁰ Whatever degree of confidence Joffre had restored in French leadership and planning at the St Quentin meeting simply evaporated as exaggerated results of the engagement plunged the British Command into a sharp depression. “Battle lost by the English Army, which appears to have lost all cohesion,” grimly reported Huguet to Joffre on the night of the battle.⁷¹ Sir John at once sent “most urgent messages” to the commanders of the French cavalry on his left and the Fifth Army on his right to take pressure off the retreat of his beleaguered force.⁷² “A beaten Army incapable of serious effort,” Huguet reported to Joffre the next day, “able to take up the campaign only after lengthy rest and reconstitution … for three out of the five divisions, not before several days and even several weeks.”⁷³ The Battle of Le Cateau ended effective cooperation in the field between the French and British armies for several days. On 27 August, Sir John’s major concern, with only partial losses of 3,000–4,000 reported, was to retreat as rapidly as possible behind the Oise in order to shake off the enemy and find shelter behind a major barrier so that he could refit and reorganize his battered force. Sir John thus refused Joffre’s demand to retreat methodically and, withdrawing rapidly, abandoned the mission of covering the French left flank, leaving a gaping hole between the French Fifth Army and the Sixth Army forming on his left. The retreat also signified Sir John’s abandonment of Joffre’s Aisne offensive, for it placed the British a full day’s march behind their intended position on the Somme.⁷⁴ German strategy thus succeeded in driving a wedge between the British and their French allies. The British, now intent on self-preservation, reproached the French “bitterly” for not having sustained them.⁷⁵ The French Command in turn censured the British – who up to this point had been in a forward position – for leaving a huge gap in the line, thereby uncovering the inner flanks of both the Fifth and Sixth Armies.⁷⁶ After Le Cateau, Anglo-French conflict centred not only on Lanrezac and Sir John but involved the two commands directly. The crisis would soon involve both governments. Defeat of the only military force in the British Empire was bound to have profound political repercussions in London. Sir John, with sup-

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port from Joffre, therefore moved immediately into political damage control. Anticipating that bitterness and regret were bound to arise in Britain once it was learned under what conditions the British had been engaged against the enemy, Sir John suggested to Joffre on 27 August that he express his gratitude for the “great services rendered to the common cause by the English Army.”⁷⁷ Such a message would calm public opinion and deflect blame from Sir John for the unfortunate engagement. Sensitive to political considerations, Joffre responded immediately by warmly thanking the British army, both via Sir John and through his government, for “not hesitating to fully engage against very superior forces,” thereby “assuring the security of the left flank of the French Army.”⁷⁸ These thanks, noted Berthelot cynically, were written in the “hope” that the British would “not continue to vanish.”⁷⁹ Joffre, in fact, believed that Huguet’s bleak report on the British disaster was exaggerated and that the British would soon “recover” if properly protected.⁸⁰ The situation required dramatic action. In the hope of slowing the German advance overall and taking pressure off the British forces in order to slow down their retreat, on 27 August Joffre ordered the Fifth Army to launch a vigorous attack on the German Second Army, which was now putting pressure on the British right flank. Lanrezac was reluctant, and further reverses made him more so; Joffre persisted and, personally visiting Lanrezac’s headquarters, used increasingly strong language to order him to take the needed action.⁸¹ At the same time, Joffre sought to obtain at least limited British support for the engagement by Haig’s I Corps, which was still intact, but failed to persuade Sir John, who was determined that his troops would spend at least one day resting behind the Oise.⁸² The French attack against the German First Army at Guise on 29 August – a major counter-thrust engaging the entire French Fifth Army – was a victory, a turning point in French fortunes, and the German advance was temporarily checked.⁸³ On 28 August, Sir John received full figures on British losses since the beginning of the campaign: 5,000 men and 80 guns (the latter almost double the actual loss), which plunged him into deeper despair. After consulting with his corps commanders, Sir John decided the next day, even while the Battle of Guise was in progress, to give up further immediate action in concert with the French, avoid the enemy, and flee to safety.⁸⁴ Having on 29 August alerted the inspector-general of communications at Rouen, his new advanced base, that he had decided to make

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“a prolonged and definite retreat due south,”⁸⁵ Sir John confirmed one day later to Kitchener his decision to “retreat behind the Seine in a southwesterly direction west of Paris.” This would require an “8 days” march “at a considerable distance from the enemy.”⁸⁶ This decision to fall back to safety, he observed, was in harmony with his instructions not to risk the force.⁸⁷ In effect, Sir John had wildly overreacted to his losses, not appreciating, in his depressed state of mind, the full demands of European warfare and the capacity of his troops to fight well under less than optimum circumstances.⁸⁸ Seeking once again to hold the British in the line, Joffre visited Sir John at Compiègne on 29 August.⁸⁹ Pressure would soon be reduced on the Western Front, he said, on account of the Russian offensive in East Prussia. Joffre thus argued that if the British remained as far forward as the French until the Sixth Army was definitively constituted, circumstances would be more favourable for the resumption of a general offensive. However, he left unsatisfied and dejected; Sir John merely promised to retreat less hastily.⁹⁰ To Joffre it seemed that the British had ruined his Aisne manoeuvre. In reality, the French Command, in mounting the manoeuvre, had not fully appreciated the strength of the German right and had not mounted the counteroffensive far enough to the rear to allow sufficient time to assemble its forces. The dispersion of the Sixth Army on the far left on 29 August,⁹¹ following the British defeat at Le Cateau, was but a symptom of these miscalculations. On the morning of 30 August, Sir John made a significant concession when, under pressure from Wilson and Lanrezac, he agreed to halt his retreat midway between the Aisne and Oise in support of a renewed attack.⁹² However, to British dismay, the French decided to break off the Battle of Guise because of Lanrezac’s untenable forward position.⁹³ This signalled the final collapse of the Aisne manoeuvre. The French Command was now without a battle plan and was faced once again with the need to retreat in the hope of buying time. The full strength of von Kluck’s army, however, had now been revealed. The French had come to realize the inadequacy of their strategy in dealing with the wideswinging envelopment of the German Schlieffen plan.⁹⁴ The collapse of the Aisne manoeuvre dealt the final blow to Sir John’s short-lived resolve to support the French at Guise and led to the complete breakdown of working relations with the French Command. Totally unimpressed with Joffre’s strategy of withdrawal, Sir John preferred that

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the French forces renew the offensive.⁹⁵ While holding out some hope of a British engagement from behind the Seine in defence of Paris, this was only a possibility, he told Kitchener on 30 August.⁹⁶ “I feel most strongly the absolute necessity for retaining in my hands complete independence of action and power to retire on my base when circumstances render it necessary.”⁹⁷ Sir John justified his stance by reference to Kitchener’s instructions to give the safety of the BEF priority over cooperation with the French.⁹⁸ The command crisis was based on Sir John’s loss of confidence in French leadership. French strategy, which had exposed the BEF to extreme danger and resulted only in successive defeats and renewed retreat, had by degrees totally destroyed his confidence in the French Command. “I cannot say that I am happy in the outlook as to the further progress of the campaign in France,” he confided to Kitchener. “My confidence in the ability of the French Army to carry this campaign to a successful conclusion is fast waning, and that is the real reason for the decision I have taken to move the British forces so far back.”⁹⁹ Joffre’s efforts to bolster Sir John’s confidence had failed in the face of the German onslaught. Disaster loomed. The political leaders would thus be required to restore cooperation between the two commands.

Political Intervention and Renewed Cooperation The re-establishment of the Allied military cooperation needed for the “miracle of the Marne” was an even greater “miracle.”¹⁰⁰ A fortuitous improvement in the military situation in favour of French strategy and the political intervention by both governments to resolve the command crisis were unlikely but essential ingredients in the restoration of effective strategic cooperation. In the final analysis, the military alliance held together because the British government, in the face of a very grave military situation, closed ranks with the French Command in order to avert disaster. Although not entirely apparent at the time, the Battle of Guise marked a turning point in the military situation. The French counterattack against the German Fifth Army, combined with diversions elsewhere, had placed stresses on the German armies, which obliged them to shorten their line and deflect their march southward. The German right had already been weakened by the transfer of six ersatz (territorial) divisions to Lorraine on 6 August to forestall Joffre’s Lorraine offensive.¹⁰¹

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The Russian offensive also began to bear fruit with the diversion of two corps from Namur to East Prussia on 25 August.¹⁰² As a result, the plan to sweep to the west of Paris was abandoned after Guise in favour of an operational objective – the destruction of the French Fifth Army – as the German armies veered eastward.¹⁰³ The French also had problems maintaining the continuity of their lines, but they now had the advantage of interior lines and the use of an efficient railway system for the deployment of their troops.¹⁰⁴ Another factor of very great importance as German forces marched deeper into enemy territory was the breakdown in German intelligence information and the contemporaneous improvement of Allied reconnaissance. British aerial reconnaissance, which had rendered good service since the beginning of the campaign, was now the first to discover the eastward deflection of German forces.¹⁰⁵ On the other hand, as von Kluck rushed headlong to the east of Paris in pursuit of the Fifth Army flank, he had no knowledge of the British position and supposed that only insignificant British and French units were amassed on the Allied far left.¹⁰⁶ The great stroke for the French, however, as Berthelot’s diary reveals, was their cracking of the German wireless code – a factor of decisive importance not previously recognized by historians. Amazingly, by 26 August the French were able to plot German movements with relative certainty. Knowledge of holes in the German line had allowed them to plan the successful Battle of Guise.¹⁰⁷ “Information captured from the German wireless, since we know their cipher,” wrote Berthelot on 3 August, “helps us see clearly into their game, or at least to know their movements.” During the Great Retreat, knowledge of German battle orders would allow the French – on 3 August and on subsequent occasions – to avoid disaster on the exposed flank of the French Fifth Army by retreating around successive German thrusts. And information from German radio transmissions allowed the French to plot German movements in preparation for the later Allied Battle of the Marne.¹⁰⁸

Groping for a New Strategy: The Seine Manoeuvre and Variants As the French Command groped its way toward a new operational strategy after the collapse of the Aisne manoeuvre, the British were subject to daily changes in instructions, which gave the impression of

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incoherence and inconsistency in French planning and further exacerbated inter-Allied relations. The initial French approach, which won no support from Sir John, was to continue to retreat and to avoid decisive engagements.¹⁰⁹ By 30 August, the French Command was formulating a new plan, a vast rearward manoeuvre – later adapted in the Marne offensive – which called for a frontal assault on the enemy centre once French troops were safely behind the Seine. Under government pressure to defend Paris, Joffre, who earlier had ignored a government order to send three corps for the defence of the capital, now ordered an active corps from the Fifth Army to be moved there.¹¹⁰ The Seine plan with an intermediate plan to defend Paris had considerable merit militarily, for the fortified region of Paris could probably withstand a German attack for several days, and extension of the German line would have created exploitable weaknesses.¹¹¹ Moreover, the British, not now factored in this plan as a fighting force, would be required only to reroute their retreat from the west to the east and south of Paris.¹¹² Before the Seine plan could be implemented, however, a new intermediate French plan of attack saw life on 30 August. Encouraged by reports of large movements of German troops to the east, Joffre examined the possibility of an immediate counterattack to halt the German advance. Before making definitive plans, he decided to order the Fifth and Sixth Armies to hold their ground and the British likewise to maintain their position.¹¹³ In order to obtain Sir John’s concurrence, Joffre appealed to Poincaré for support in dealing with the British Command,¹¹⁴ raising the command crisis to the level of an issue in Entente political relations. Poincaré’s initial efforts to have Sir John hold the line met with little success; Sir John’s refusal to do more than halt his retreat on a line through Nanteuil would still put him one to two days’ march behind the Fifth and Sixth Armies.¹¹⁵ However, once Sir Francis Bertie, the British ambassador to Paris, gave an account of Poincaré’s actions to Grey in London, the British government became directly involved in the issue.¹¹⁶ From the beginning of the campaign, the British Cabinet had monitored closely and continuously operations in France.¹¹⁷ Generally, the Cabinet was responsive to the demands of Sir John for reinforcements.¹¹⁸ However, it was aware of the brewing conflict between the two commands and, by 30 August, of his decision to fall back behind the Seine. Following a late-night Cabinet meeting on 3 August, a telegram was sent to Sir John “expressing the anxiety of the Government, and dwelling upon

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the importance of his cooperating closely and continuously with General Joffre.”¹¹⁹ Thus, by the time Poincaré intervened on Joffre’s behalf, the British had already begun to exert great pressure on Sir John to cooperate more fully with the French. Not everyone in the Cabinet was agreed that Sir John was at fault or had not satisfied Poincaré’s demands; Sir Edward Grey was most notable among these dissenters.¹²⁰ Kitchener stood against these sentiments, arguing that adequate reinforcements sent to shore up the BEF enabled Sir John to comply with French movements.¹²¹ Following another unduly pessimistic telegram from Sir John late on 3 August, Kitchener moved to resolve the crisis. In the late-night cabinet meeting, which he arranged with key ministers – Asquith, Churchill, Lloyd George, and others, but minus Grey – he gained their support for him to travel to France to, in Asquith’s words, “unravel the situation, and if necessary put the fear of God into them all.”¹²² Thus, early in the morning of  September, Kitchener departed for Paris on a mission that would give him a major role in the great Allied victory on the Marne. Meanwhile, on the same day, Joffre lodged further grievances with his government against Sir John. He complained to Millerand that “the accentuated withdrawal of the English Armies laid open the left flank of the 5th Army, and, as a result, a German Cavalry Corps was able to advance to Soissons, rendering impossible the transfer I had ordered of the 8th Corps to Paris.”¹²³ As a result, Lanrezac was forced to march his left to the east of Soissons and to the rear around the danger, further widening the breach in the Allied line¹²⁴ (see map, p. 0). This situation led Joffre to renew his urgent appeal to the government, this time through Millerand, for political intervention to have Sir John hold the line.¹²⁵ A meeting was thus arranged in Paris between Kitchener, French, and Millerand on the afternoon of  September, Joffre being unavailable that day. In a lucky stroke, when Kitchener was delayed in arriving, Millerand and Sir John were able to converse at length. Sir John entered the meeting stubborn in his position and told Millerand of his intention to withdraw in order to regroup, and also expressed his frustration with Joffre’s continued retreat action. Millerand, unable to defend Joffre’s strategy, listened sympathetically to Sir John’s complaints about the lack of any French plan and with even greater interest to his newly formulated suggestion of a joint defensive action along the line of the Marne.¹²⁶ While this interaction helped in a minor way to soothe Sir John in anticipation

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of his meeting with Kitchener, Millerand’s subsequent action was of primary value in its impact on Joffre. Playing the role of mediator between the quarrelling chiefs, Millerand impressed on Joffre the government’s reservations about his plans for the defence of Paris and its desire that greater confidence and cooperation exist between the two commands.¹²⁷ Given the political influences arguing for his removal, Joffre was in no position to resist government counsel.¹²⁸ Millerand’s intervention produced a noticeable change in Joffre’s outward attitude toward the British. Although inwardly scornful of Sir John’s plan to stand on the Marne, Joffre responded in a conciliatory fashion, asking that the British participate with the Sixth Army in the defence of Paris by progressively withdrawing to the Melun-Juvisy line behind the Seine above Paris, in harmony with Sir John’s earlier request. Similarly, Millerand’s direction to Joffre led him to inform the British Command of his renewed decision to pursue the Seine counteroffensive plan.¹²⁹ Even more significant for the resolution of the command crisis than Millerand’s reorientation of Joffre was Kitchener’s firm injunction to Sir John on  September to cooperate more fully with the movements of the French Army. In a stormy exchange, which was moved to a private room away from French eyes, Sir John hotly contested Kitchener’s interference with his command of the BEF. Kitchener acquiesced in Sir John’s demand that he not visit the troops, lest it be seen as a public rebuke of his leadership and of the BEF ’s role in the early French military reversals.¹³⁰ However, on the more substantive question of coordination with the French, Kitchener exercised his full authority to instruct Sir John to remain “in the fighting line … conforming to the movements of the French Army, though, at the same time acting with caution to avoid being in any way unsupported on his flanks.”¹³¹ Kitchener, by tightening his instructions to Sir John, thus succeeded in ending the command crisis – but at the cost of further embitterment of Sir John towards him.¹³² Political intervention therefore was entirely decisive in restoring military collaboration between the two Allied commands before the Battle of the Marne, saving the alliance from threatened disaster. Kitchener’s visit also led to an improvement in the means placed at Sir John’s disposal. Seeing the problems existing in the lines of communication, which resulted in no reinforcements or new material reaching the front, he acted decisively to resolve these problems by speeding the dispatch of reinforcements as well as the disputed 6th Division.¹³³ In sum, by alter-

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ing Sir John’s original instructions to work more closely with the French and by sending further reinforcements, Kitchener substantially increased Britain’s commitment to defence of the Continent. French weakness was the catalyst. The mechanism by which British commitment was enlarged successively throughout much of the rest of the war had thus begun to make its impact felt in response to the first command crisis. Under protest to Kitchener, on whose shoulders he carefully placed the blame for any future disaster, Sir John now agreed to support Joffre’s proposed Seine manoeuvre,¹³⁴ laying the basis for renewed joint action in the field.

Coordination in the field and the preparation for the Battle of the Marne, 3–5 September 94 The situation nonetheless remained clouded: the Allied armies were still in retreat, and no definitive plans had yet been worked out. As GQG groped for a plan to which all could comply, much would depend on effective cooperation between the army commanders in the field. The interaction of the French field commanders with the British Command thus proved to be decisive in elaborating plans that would serve as the basis for their later joint effort. Fortunately, good relations had prevailed between Sir John and General Michel Maunoury, commander of the Sixth Army, until the latter was subordinated to Joseph Gallieni, military governor of Paris on  September. In spite of his mild anglophobia, Gallieni made a considerable effort to cultivate the goodwill and cooperation of Sir John. Although some lingering suspicion remained in the background, Sir John’s evident willingness to cooperate led Gallieni on 2 September to the draw up in concert with the British Command a joint plan of action to move forward into von Kluck’s flank on 4 September.¹³⁵ However, the bitter conflict between Sir John and Lanrezac was further aggravated on 2 September when the Fifth Army, under Joffre’s instructions, hastily retreated to escape the menace posed by von Kluck’s advancing cavalry. Sir John complained to Joffre of what seemed to him an unwarranted retreat, but Joffre replied that the move was needed to prevent the envelopment of Lanrezac’s flank.¹³⁶ This continuing conflict came to a sudden resolution when Joffre, fed up with Lanrezac’s attitude, decided on 3 September to replace him with General Louis Franchet d’Esperey, an advocate of the offensive and favourable in his atti-

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tude toward the British. D’Esperey’s appointment opened the way for improved relations with Sir John and effective coordination in the field, an essential condition for the preparation of the Battle of the Marne.¹³⁷ The discussion at GQG then took a decided turn. Under the influence of Berthelot, who favoured a general battle under more favourable circumstances on the Seine, the French staff rejected the flank attacks proposed by various field commanders as premature.¹³⁸ However, Joffre had come to plan his manoeuvre to a large extent around British participation, which he considered essential for any successful counterattack. Therefore, when on 3 September word came from British headquarters, currently under Wilson’s influence, that the British army might be able to march into the German flank on the evening of 4 September, the result was electrifying. Prepared to make every reasonable sacrifice, including adjustment of his plans, to consolidate the British offer and to gain full British participation in the forthcoming attack, Joffre immediately began to think in terms of a revision of his Seine plan so as to allow for a flank attack by the British and the Paris army before his centre armies reached the Seine. He thus directed Gallieni to deploy the Sixth Army, now under his command, eastward on 4 September and to enter into close contact with Sir John to coordinate their efforts.¹³⁹ Unfortunately for Gallieni’s coordination with the British, Joffre, still groping for a final solution, had not worked out all the implications of his new directive for the deployment of the Paris and British armies. By inflexibly assigning the zone south of the Marne to Gallieni, Joffre obliged the British to retreat another day to make room for the Paris army on the south bank of the Marne and hence forced Gallieni to make a flank attack on the forward rather than rear flank of von Kluck’s army.¹⁴⁰ An even more important impediment facing Gallieni on 4 September was the less aggressive attitude at British Headquarters. As Murray’s influence began to prevail over that of Wilson, Sir John ordered the resumption of retreat to the Seine and adopted a cautious stand toward cooperation with the Sixth Army.¹⁴¹ Travelling to British Headquarters at Melun the same day, Gallieni discussed with Murray his decision to march immediately into the German flank, seeking to secure British cooperation. The French general obtained from Murray only a tentative agreement for joint action, certainly an achievement; but the plan was flawed in that it prescribed one to two more days of British retreat before any advance.¹⁴²

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Meanwhile, an equally important consultation was taking place between Wilson and d’Esperey at Bray-sur-Seine, halfway between the two headquarters. Joffre, having decided tentatively, on the basis of the British offer, to hasten the offensive, was still hesitant, in part because of the conflicting counsel given by his senior advisers on the one hand and the “young Turks” of the Third Bureau on the other.¹⁴³ Inasmuch as d’Esperey had sought advice from him, Joffre allowed him to enlarge the scope of his discussions with the British to include the entire question of a coordinated Anglo-French attack on the Marne. The arrangement worked out at Bray reflected the temperament and character of the two principal conferees: d’Esperey, the fighting French chief, and his willing francophile collaborator, Wilson.¹⁴⁴ Communicated to Joffre several hours before the results of the Gallieni consultation at Melun, their agreement called for a general battle on the morning of 6 September. The British and the Sixth Army would attack in an easterly direction toward Montmirail and Château-Thierry, respectively, and the French Fifth Army would attack northward toward Montmirail. The “close and absolute cooperation” of the Sixth Army on the British left, the agreement said, was essential.¹⁴⁵ Although the Bray plan was a better operational plan than that developed at Melun, the latter was more in harmony with official thinking at British Headquarters. The essential, however, was that in both plans the British had agreed to attack in concert with the French. In some respects, the arrangements worked out by both army commanders with the British responded to the German principle of “initiative,” which emphasized local cooperation among commanders of similar training. The capacity of British staff officers to work effectively hand in hand with French army commanders was a wholesome new development that augured well for the proposed joint action. Without this renewed cooperation in the field, it is doubtful whether the Allies would have been able to put together a plan capable of exploiting the favourable strategic situation offered by von Kluck’s march to the southeast of Paris.

Joffre’s Decision to Attack In the “restless atmosphere” that prevailed at GQG in the afternoon of 4 September as Joffre “anxiously awaited a reply” from d’Esperey, an encouraging message was received from Huguet indicating the willing-

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ness of the British to hold their line and cooperate as required.¹⁴⁶ Not waiting for d’Esperey’s reply, Joffre called a new meeting of Berthelot, Belin, Pellé, Pont, and his personal aides Gamelin, Galbert, and Muller some time after 3:00 pm and, after renewed discussion, announced his decision to attack, charging Gamelin with the task of drawing up his orders. Nevertheless, the initial date of the attack was set for 7 September, rather than the sixth, largely as a result of Berthelot’s numerous objections to attacking prematurely, particularly given the need to ensure British involvement. The final orders retained all of the Bray arrangement except that the Fifth Army’s left was to retreat less and draw somewhat closer to the British on 5 September, and that instructions were drafted for the attack of Foch’s recently formed Ninth Army on the Fifth Army’s right.¹⁴⁷ The date of the attack was then advanced to 6 September as a result of Gallieni’s intervention. Gallieni had informed Joffre by telephone on 4 September of his orders for the advance the next day of the Paris army on the right bank of the Marne. Joffre acquiesced, only realizing later that this move on 5 September would bring Gallieni’s army into contact with the enemy on the same day. To prevent premature disclosure to the enemy of the entire manoeuvre, Joffre decided to advance the date of the general offensive to the morning of 6 September. Thus, despite Joffre’s later criticism of Gallieni, the latter’s move ensured that Joffre implemented the Bray plan, which had been tailored specifically for an attack on that date.¹⁴⁸

The Melun Meeting of 5 September 94 Meanwhile, on the evening of 4 September, just as Joffre had issued the order to attack, the will to fight at British headquarters took a decided “nosedive,” as first Murray and then Sir John ordered continued retreat in the face of the continued German advance.¹⁴⁹ Sir John, as a result, was ill disposed toward even the cautious agreement for a combined offensive that had been worked out between Murray and Gallieni at Melun. Thus, hardly had Joffre signed General Order no. 6 ordering the attack when the results of Gallieni’s Melun consultation arrived, and shortly thereafter word of Sir John’s decision to study the situation further before deciding to attack.¹⁵⁰ The new crisis in Allied relations required immediate decisive action if the last chance for success was to be salvaged from

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the ever-changing course of Allied military relations. Thus, Joffre sent instructions to Sir John via his trusted aide Captain Galbert, explaining the British role in the planned offensive and the urgent need to conform to the French plan. Although Galbert was unable to see anyone but Huguet, receipt of Joffre’s order for a combined offensive was sufficient to rally British support. Sir John acquiesced, in line with Kitchener’s earlier orders to coordinate with the movements of the French army, and as both flanks were supported by the French, no excuse could be made. Nevertheless, after a consultation with Maunoury, who arrived at British Headquarters at 9:00 am to coordinate plans, it was decided, under the cautious advice of Murray, to rotate the British corps to face eastward but not to advance significantly from the Ozoir–La Ferrière–Ormeaux line attained in the night.¹⁵¹ Meanwhile, Joffre was gravely concerned early on the morning of 5 September lest the British refuse their participation. Moving decisively, he wrote to Millerand to make an urgent appeal for diplomatic intervention.¹⁵² Joffre’s next step was to make a personal appeal to Sir John at Melun. Convinced of the need to “obtain the cooperation” of the British army “at any price” to assure the success of the battle, Joffre, accompanied by a number of his aides, travelled to Melun, where at 2:00 pm he made an emotional appeal to Sir John for his wholehearted support of the planned attack.¹⁵³ Joffre at once affirmed that all the French armies were going to attack and “urged the necessity of vigorous action” by the British.¹⁵⁴ “‘[T]he soil of France & the future of Europe’ depended on the coming battle,” he said.¹⁵⁵ “Je vous en supplie, mon général,” he pleaded, “spreading out his hands & bowing”¹⁵⁶ in a dramatic gesture as “he begged Sir John to cooperate with all his might.”¹⁵⁷ In response, Sir John gave his pledge that he would attack.¹⁵⁸ The meeting was thus very important in binding the British to this final French plan of attack upon which the French staked their entire future. British resolve to march and to give full support to the offensive were strengthened, and a bond of solidarity between commands was forged at this dramatic encounter. Thus ended one of the great sagas of military misunderstanding. The change of circumstance in Allied military relations had indeed been dramatic since 30 August, when the French Command had no plan but to retreat before the German advance, when Sir John had decided to drop out of the line and cooperation in the field had virtually ceased. Fortunately for the future of the campaign, the situation in the field had

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changed dramatically in French favour as von Kluck had veered to the east, the British government had obliged Sir John to stay in the line, and as effective cooperation in the field was restored by the appointment of new French field commanders capable of working together with the British, followed by their favourable interaction in joint planning. The happy nexus of these factors and the improved strategic situation gave rise to the British offer to march into the German flank on 3 September, which provided the immediate stimulus for French engagement of the Battle of the Marne. Joffre’s role was decisive in mounting the strategic manoeuvre to his left wing, which in due course led to the Battle of the Marne, despite the struggle for power within his staff and the resultant jerkiness in the French planning process. It was he who decided on the moment to attack and under what conditions, taking into consideration the felicitous action of Gallieni in pressing the left-wing attack. Much of the French planning for the Marne offensive centred on what could be obtained from the British. At every stage of decision making, the role of the British was considered, but not until the actual planning of the Marne offensive did the British attain a truly active role in the decision-making process, which remained a French prerogative. Leaving nothing to chance, Joffre had consolidated British support in his dramatic appeal to Sir John at Melun, a meeting of truly historic proportions.

Marching: The Battle of the Marne Compared with the grave difficulties experienced in Anglo-French coordination during the Great Retreat, coordination during the Battle of the Marne was a relatively simple matter. Some difficulties had to be resolved, however. Although the British had committed themselves at Melun to march according to the French plan, the legacy of ill will persisted. Gallieni, doubting British resolve, vigorously pressed Sir John to engage fully. At the same time, d’Esperey urged him to give greater support to the Fifth Army. Sandwiched between two French armies with competing needs, Sir John, who resented the accusation that he was not acting with enough vigour, found it necessary to ask for personal instructions from Joffre on 6 September.¹⁵⁹ Joffre thus obliged, providing specific instructions to the British each day of the Marne offensive, setting the objectives and zones of the British army in the overall Allied advance. In return, Sir John practised volun-

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tary subordination as he attempted to implement French directives.¹⁶⁰ At the same time, Joffre’s earlier efforts to apply pressure on Sir John via the British government came to fruition. Kitchener instructed Sir John to “march with the utmost vigour,” thereby raising Sir John’s ire.¹⁶¹ Anxious to gain full British support, Joffre publicly praised the valiant efforts of the British army.¹⁶² This greatly soothed Sir John’s feelings and won his support.¹⁶³ Joffre was also particularly careful to give the utmost support to Sir John on his flanks and to assure close communications between Gallieni, d’Esperey, and the British Command. The result was harmonious British participation in the battle under the leadership of the French Command. Although the French were not entirely satisfied with the cautious initial advance of the BEF, a genuine understanding soon developed between the two commands as the combined offensive became more and more successful, particularly after the British crossing of the Marne on 9 September. Despite the lack of a well-defined arrangement between commands, an acceptable level of tactical coordination was thus achieved for a short time by mutual commitment to a common goal, careful personal relations, and success on the field of battle.¹⁶⁴ Thus was orchestrated the successful allied Battle of the Marne – one of the great military reverses of modern times. Having deployed large numbers of troops to his left in an innovative railway manoeuvre, Joffre ignited the ensuing battle in which French forces were engaged all along the front west of Verdun. In effect, Gallieni’s flank attack from Paris eastward on von Kluck’s army on 5 September required von Kluck to pull toward Paris, leaving a gap in the line between him and von Bulow’s Second Army. The result was a pierced centre as the BEF and the left of d’Esperey’s Fifth Army crossed the Marne on 9 September and marched into the breach in the German line, obliging the entire German right wing to retreat to safety behind the Aisne.¹⁶⁵

CHAPTER six

The Move North, Defence of Antwerp, and Competition over Belgium

The harmony engendered between the French and British commands during the march to the Marne was short-lived, as the British found themselves uncomfortably wedged between superior French forces on the Aisne. The British request, made for political and strategic reasons, to relocate the BEF on the Allied left during the critical “Race to the Sea,” put additional stresses on the relationship. But the joint plan for gradual British transfer north was overtaken by events at the end of September 94, with the German bombardment of Antwerp, which hastened the move north and pitted British strategic policy against French operational strategy in an acrimonious conflict over the defence of Antwerp and the Channel ports. This conflict was not a mere incident in Anglo-French military relations but the expression of long-term differences in the political interests and defence strategies of the two countries. Great Britain’s most fundamental strategic interest on the Continent from the time of Elizabeth had been to prevent a strong power from acquiring control of the Channel ports. The string of Channel ports from Antwerp to Boulogne were the gateway to British trade with the Continent. With the advent of war, they could become submarine and destroyer bases that menaced the lines of communications of the BEF, endangered the main trade routes to London, and threatened the safety of the island itself.¹ During the long course of British history, when British forces had been committed to the

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defence of the Continent, their objective had often been to maintain a suitable balance of power in order to preserve vital British interests on the Channel coast. In August 94 the anomalous situation of the BEF being sent to fight alongside the French army in order to defend essential British interests on the Channel coast had arisen because the plan for the concentration of the BEF in conjunction with the French army was the only viable plan and the only one in existence. The “interventionists” thus scored a major victory over the “blue water school”; but the debate was reopened at the end of August when French strategy failed to provide an effective defence for the vital ports. The British government then began to consider means of protecting its interests in the seaports directly with British forces. French strategy, pursued with the utmost energy, aimed at outflanking the Germans in a vast manoeuvre across northern France and of having the Belgian army retreat to join up with French and British forces. These conflicting strategies also reflected the clash of competing political interests as the two countries manoeuvred for later influence over the small country. British strategy would maintain British dominance over the Belgian army, while Joffre’s strategy would subject the Belgian army to French control and bolster French interests. Amid bitter recriminations, French strategy prevailed; and ultimately the French gained the upper hand in their quest for influence over Belgium, which the French staff planned to integrate into the postwar French defensive system.

The Aisne: Prelude to Conflict between Commands After the relative harmony of the Battle of the Marne, cracks again began to appear in the relationship between the British and French commands as early as  September as they faced the German army entrenched on the far side of the Aisne. Straddled across the Aisne in an uncomfortable position, the British again evinced their unwillingness to remain for long in voluntary subordination to the French without active participation in the decision-making process. Sir John insisted that plans be made for the anticipated march beyond the Aisne in concert with the British. A plan was devised by Wilson for an attack in collaboration with the French, but this produced no results as French and British encountered entrenched German positions on 3 September.²

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A second source of British discontent was their confined position on the line, wedged as they were between two French armies, which denied them all independent action. As German and French armies sought to outflank each other, in leap-frog fashion, in the Race to the Sea, the French Command on 22 September requested that the British renew attacks to hold German forces behind the now quiet front on the Aisne. The British force, concerned with the need for secure flanks in this first encounter with trench warfare, merely gave artillery support to the French armies on their adjoining flanks. Effective action on the Aisne thus ceased, and a new era of strategic conflict began as the British pressed for a move of their forces farther north to be closer to the Channel ports and the direct defence of their strategic interests.³

Genesis of the BEF’s Move North The British Command had regained its confidence as a result of its successes on the Marne.⁴ The arrival of the 6th Division on the Aisne on 6 September and the promise of two more regular divisions, two Indian divisions, and two cavalry divisions, which would nearly double the British forces, raised for Sir John the much-coveted opportunity for decisive action on the German flank.⁵ On the far left, where his forces would enjoy freedom of movement, he would be able to deploy his cavalry in a rollup operation on the Flanders plains.⁶ The British government’s concern for the fate of the Channel ports, which demanded that the new forces be concentrated on the Channel coast rather than on the Aisne, proved to be even more compelling.⁷ These considerations, combined with the unhappy position of the British in the line on the Aisne, led government and command to seek a new position on the far left of the French line. Such a move would draw strong protests from the French, however, who did not trust the British to engage in a vigorous offensive without support on either side. Thus, the stage was again set for renewed conflict in Allied military relations. The French, like the Germans, basing their existence on the maintenance of power on land, tended to believe that victory in the main theatre would allow for the proper resolution of all difficulties at the conference table. The Allied counteroffensive, which had ended in stalemate on the Aisne, left the French Command in an awkward position. It had

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successfully foiled German plans for a quick victory in the west, but the Germans remained in possession of much of the rich industrial region of northern France. Joffre pinned his hopes on an enveloping manoeuvre against the German right flank that would pull the German line apart as on the Marne and lead to renewed advance of the entire Allied line. The Douai plains beckoned as the avenue for a great advance into Germany. The success of the manoeuvre would depend on the rapidity with which Allied forces could be concentrated in the north of France using the two railway lines available for the purpose, and the speed and determination with which these forces could be engaged.⁸ The British government and command thus ran afoul of the French Command’s strategic objectives in demanding a redeployment of the BEF. The British government, in a rare demonstration of complete understanding between government and command, responded with alacrity to Sir John’s suggestion on 24 September that the BEF be deployed on the French left.⁹ Because of Kitchener’s strained relationship with Sir John following their Paris meeting, he asked Churchill to discuss the matter with Sir John on a visit to British Headquarters at Fère-en-Tardenois on 26 September.¹⁰ Churchill’s argument that the BEF should disengage from the Aisne and move to “its natural station on the sea flank in contact with the Navy,” shortening its line of communications and putting it in a position to defend the Channel ports directly, convinced Sir John, who still harboured misgiving about delays in the arrival of his Indian divisions.¹¹ In his enthusiasm for the enterprise, Churchill even promised to afford Sir John’s cavalry mobile infantry support by sending his little force of marines forward from Dunkirk in trucks!¹² On his return to London, Churchill discussed the BEF ’s planned move north with Kitchener and the prime minister, who both approved.¹³ Even before this decision was reached, the proposal of transferring the BEF north had been mooted informally by the British General Staff with the French Command. The French Command rebuffed these requests, it was learned privately, because of lack of confidence in Sir John’s and Murray’s resolve to “act with energy” on the vital left wing unless both the BEF ’s “flanks were secure.”¹⁴ But fortified by Cabinet approval, on 29 September Sir John officially demanded the transfer of the BEF to the outer flank at once, arguing (in a memo written by Wilson) that with increased forces he would have a “freedom of action” and “field of operation” that could lead to “decisive results.”¹⁵ This exaggerated promise of

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greater British participation would later boomerang. Nor was Sir John’s motive entirely pure, for he had heard a rumour that Kitchener “might be contemplating sending 7th & 8th div. and Indians” to the Allied left under Sir Ian Hamilton, creating a separate command – a move which Sir John wished to forestall.¹⁶ On a visit to French headquarters at Romilly-sur-Seine on the evening of the twenty-ninth, Wilson had difficulty persuading leery senior members of the French staff of the British position.¹⁷ But the next morning, with Joffre present, the situation changed. Baited by Wilson’s promise of greater British participation and freedom of action, Joffre agreed in principle to moving the BEF north. But he did not consider the moment opportune for immediate transfer of the entire BEF, since its sudden departure would leave a gap in the line, requiring a second movement of French troops by rail to take their place. He thus advocated a gradual transfer, sending first what troops could be freed by a thinning of the line – II Corps by rail and one British cavalry division to travel overland – to join the expected British reinforcements landing at Dunkirk for an advance on Lille. Despite the fact that two British corps were to remain on the Aisne, this arrangement was accepted first by Wilson and later by Sir John.¹⁸ But, fragile in nature, it was immediately overtaken by events.

German Attack on Antwerp On the night of 27–28 September the five German divisions before Antwerp, having amassed the necessary heavy artillery, began the systematic reduction of the fortress. The initial bid to destroy the French army having failed, the new objective of the German Command, now under the leadership of General Erich von Falkenhayn, was the Channel coast, “on which [their] right flank was to rest, and from which it was hoped to obstruct England’s Channel traffic, effectively attack the island itself and turn the French flank.”¹⁹ The safety of the ports had to this point depended on German pursuit of their main objective in France. Compared with the destruction of the French army, seizure of the Channel ports was a secondary objective for the Germans which could be deferred until after the first major offensive. In the interim, the fortress of Antwerp “guarded the whole line of the Channel ports” and “threatened the flanks and rear of the German Armies in France,” immobilizing two German corps before it.²⁰ But this

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situation would prevail only so long as the conquest of the Channel ports remained a secondary objective.

Churchill’s Sideshow Campaign Since the outbreak of hostilities, as all available British regular forces not required for home defence had either been sent or promised to the BEF in France, the British had been able to do little for the direct defence on land of the Channel ports. Nonetheless, Churchill, as First Lord of the Admiralty, had waged a “sideshow” campaign, with token marine forces. Convinced of the need for British action to protect the ports, he had obtained approval from the prime minister, Kitchener, and Grey for a small landing of 3,000 Royal Marines at Ostend on 27–28 August as a feint to divert German attention from the main operation in France.²¹ This little contingent had to be re-embarked a week later when the selection of St Nazaire as a British base placed new demands for transports and patrols on the Royal Navy. A small innovative force of airplanes and armoured cars remained behind at Ostend for a short time until they were transferred to Dunkirk to assure British aerial defence against German zeppelins.²² The minuscule Ostend landing produced no tangible results, but it did mark Churchill’s conversion to the “blue water school” and whet his appetite for a variety of schemes for the naval deployment of British military forces to locations external to the main front in France. Churchill’s concern for the defence of the Channel ports was manifest in other ways. On 7 September he had proposed reinforcing Antwerp with British territorial divisions, but Kitchener resisted using the poorly trained territorials for that purpose, and Grey did not wish to raise the question of British troop transports up the Scheldt with the neutral Dutch. As a result, nothing was done for the defence of Antwerp or the support of the Belgian army until the German attack at the end of September.²³ In the meantime, Churchill’s attention shifted to the defence of the French Channel ports of Dunkirk, Calais, and Boulogne, which he personally visited on 0 September. He was somewhat relieved to learn that the French had provided Dunkirk with an entrenched camp, a garrison of 8,000 men and 400 guns, and Calais with a garrison of 7,000 men, although Boulogne had almost no defences. French coastal defences

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would therefore be capable of guarding against a German coup-de-main, but they would not be able to resist a sustained German attack.²⁴ The fear of just such an attack on the ports as a result of German troop movements in Belgium led Kitchener to explore with Joffre the possibility of concentrating British regular forces for the defence of the Channel ports. During the height of the Marne offensive, he had suggested to Joffre on  September that the 6th Division, intended for the BEF in the field, be diverted to Calais and Dunkirk.²⁵ This Joffre had rejected out of hand. The French Command, however, became more favourable to the proposal of a British coastal operation once the joint offensive bogged down on the Aisne and the decision had been made to seek the enemy’s flank in the Race to the Sea. With an eye on the deployment in France of British territorials, the wily Joffre urged Kitchener on 8 September to move every available British unit to Dunkirk.²⁶ “Joffre is very anxious that we should make a diversion on the north coast of France to frighten the Germans as to their lines of communications,” wrote Asquith on 9 September.²⁷ The British failed to take the bait. To French regret, Kitchener, instead of sending territorials, which he still considered ill fitted for field operations or even serious home defence,²⁸ asked Churchill to re-embark his little force of 3,000 Royal Marines, which landed at Dunkirk on 9–20 September. The Marine Brigade was accompanied this time by fifty omnibuses from the streets of London and a regiment of yeomanry cavalry which Churchill obtained from Kitchener as part of the deal.²⁹ Joined by the airplanes and armoured cars from Ostend, the little mixed force waged a glamorous “private” war against German Uhlan patrols roaming the area, sending small detachments into points as far away as Ypres, Lille, Tournai, and Douai until the Marine Brigade was sent to Antwerp on 3 October.³⁰ The Dunkirk landing marked the culmination of the Admiralty’s strategy of small diversions on the Channel ports. These small operations, though insignificant in themselves, marked the British government’s growing concern – and that of Kitchener in particular – for the defence of the Channel ports and served notice that the British would soon demand that the BEF relocate nearer the seaports on the Allied left flank in defence of vital British interests.

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Conflicting Strategies over Antwerp: The British Expedition The German attack on the Antwerp fortress sent reverberations in every direction. For the Belgians, the German threat to their last major stronghold, behind which King Albert’s army had retreated after the fall of Brussels, was a matter of life and death. Faced with the imminent collapse of the outer ring of forts on 30 September, the Belgian government urgently requested, in return for services rendered, the military “aid and protection” of both the British and the French.³¹ The Belgians, despite their lack of coordination with their allies, had indeed rendered valuable service to the Allied cause. In an initial sortie on 24–26 August, the Belgian army had immobilized two German corps before Antwerp and had prevented withdrawal of German forces by a second attack on 9 September at the height of the Marne offensive. As recently as 25–27 September, the Belgians had again sallied forth, at French request, to harass German communications.³² The French government found itself in an awkward position. Not only was it sympathetic to the Belgian cause, but the loss of Antwerp, a place of great strategic value, would be a major coup for the Germans and would have a dramatic effect on public opinion.³³ But the French Cabinet was not prepared to ask Joffre to withdraw regular forces engaged in the delicate flanking manoeuvre against the German army for the relief of the fortress. The French government thus promised the Belgians on  October the support of a territorial division and proposed that the British also contribute a division for the relief of the fortress.³⁴ The French Cabinet, in effect, hoped to have the British, whose interests were more directly threatened, play the major role in holding the fortress. But the French Command resisted the government’s request for the diversion of even one territorial division for the support of the Belgians.³⁵ On military grounds, Joffre’s staff was adamantly opposed to any operation for the relief of Antwerp. Placing little value on the role of fortresses, he had no confidence in the ability of the outmoded fortifications of the Antwerp system to resist the bombardment of German heavy artillery. Assuming that Antwerp would fall in short order, his chief concern was to persuade the Belgian government to have its army avoid capture by evacuating the area at once, leaving behind only the regular fortress garrison; and then to have the Belgians join the left of the large Allied force

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concentrating north of Arras. This, incidentally, would also bring the Belgian army under French direction and control, which he sought for political reasons. This strategy he strongly urged on the Belgian government on  October, contrary to the French government’s hope of raising an expedition to lift the siege.³⁶ Government and command thus worked at cross-purposes on the issue. The French Command was even more at odds with the strategic policy of the British government, which favoured holding the fortress as long as possible. For the British government, the defence of Antwerp was deemed of critical and immediate importance. In Churchill’s words, “Antwerp was not only the sole stronghold of the Belgian nation; it was the true left flank of the Allied front in the west. It guarded the whole line of Channel ports.”³⁷ Like Wellington a century earlier, Churchill considered defence of the Channel ports the most vital of British interests and thus that it was essential that the fortress hold out as long as possible.³⁸ The British government consequently responded with great alarm to the German bombardment of the vital port. On 29 September, Kitchener sent Colonel A.-G. Dallas, a staff officer, to Antwerp to investigate directly. On the evening of  October, Dallas reported that unless a diversion was made on the flank of the besieging German forces, the Belgian stronghold would soon fall.³⁹ This alarming report catapulted Kitchener into action. As the Belgian field army of five divisions (80,000 men) and 70,000 fortress troops were being attacked by the equivalent of only two and a half German corps (90,000 men) of varying quality, relieving the fortress by an Anglo-French expedition seemed well within the realm of possibility. Kitchener therefore advised the Cabinet on 2 October that if effective cooperation in the form of regular troops could be obtained from the French, he was prepared to send an expedition for the relief of Antwerp, using regular forces that had earlier been earmarked for France.⁴⁰ Kitchener pushed immediately for a joint expedition. The 7th Division, he informed the French, would go not to a French port, as promised, but to Antwerp. But he insisted that as a condition of sending this division, the French must also send a good active division and not the territorial division offered.⁴¹ At the same time, Kitchener urged Sir John, in connection with the disengagement of the BEF from the Aisne, to make arrangements with Joffre for the dispatch of “whatever portion of your force is considered necessary for the relief of Antwerp.”⁴² This request had a resounding effect in the field.

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Danger to Antwerp and the Move North Kitchener’s strategy of relieving Antwerp not only conflicted directly with Joffre’s operational strategy, but his request for the concentration of the BEF in support of the Antwerp expedition also upset the fragile arrangement between the French and British commands for the step-bystep transfer of the BEF northward. The “news about Antwerp is disturbing,” wrote Wilson, “& we must get up on the Lys as soon as we can.”⁴³ Sir John thus sent Wilson to French headquarters again on 3 October, just three days after his earlier trip, to demand the immediate withdrawal of the entire BEF from the Aisne. Wilson’s second visit brought the issue of British division-by-division engagement fully into the open. The French Command very reluctantly agreed to the immediate withdrawal of the entire BEF from the Aisne, setting a timetable for the successive arrival of British corps in the north: II Corps, the first to be transported, would arrive in the St Omer– Hazebrouck area (moved back from Lille because of the advance of German cavalry) on 8 October; III Corps would arrive on 2 October; and I Corps would be transported “as soon as possible”; the remaining British cavalry division would travel overland. But, stated the French staff in a closely reasoned memo, since the transport of the BEF would prevent the movement by rail of French troops to the north for nearly ten days, it was of “capital importance” that the British cooperate immediately in the Allied manoeuvre “to stop and outflank the German right wing.” The British divisions, the French insisted, must therefore engage “one after another as they arrive,” not waiting for the whole force to assemble.⁴⁴ The success of the manoeuvre would depend upon it. Not convinced that their argument for division-by-division engagement of the BEF would be successful, Joffre again turned to the French government for support, asking it to intervene with Kitchener to this effect.⁴⁵ For the British to have acted aggressively in such circumstances ran counter to the French staff’s appraisal of them as “unaggressive” and unsuited for offensive warfare. In seeking the coercive influence of the British government in resolving his dispute with Sir John, Joffre thus raised the issue to the political level, as he had done before the Battle of the Marne. At the same time, Joffre, fearing that Sir John meant to use the BEF ’s redeployment north for the direct defence of Antwerp, sought his com-

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plete compliance with French strategy at a political-military conference at British Headquarters at Fère-en-Tardenois on 5 October, attended by both Poincaré and Millerand.⁴⁶ Sir John’s prewar predilection had been to deploy the BEF into Belgium in defence of vital British interests. But in spite of his pledge to Kitchener to do “his utmost to effect the relief of Antwerp at the earliest possible moment,” he fell in line with the French strategy of extending the French flanking movement in the north “as the best calculated to achieve that result.”⁴⁷ In fact, no other option was logistically possible, for to have deployed the BEF farther north would have cut it off from French support and exposed its line of communications to German forces roaming in the area. The most visible conflict between Kitchener and Sir John centred on the question of an independent command for the Antwerp expedition.⁴⁸ The source of discord was Kitchener’s decision, taken on 3 October, without either the advice or the knowledge of Sir John, to send the 7th Division to Antwerp under the independent command of LieutenantGeneral Sir Henry Rawlinson, thereby creating a second command in the north.⁴⁹ Upset with the prospect of a divided command, Sir John asked Poincaré to intervene with the British government “to have removed a state of affairs so contrary to unity of action.”⁵⁰ Sir John thus adopted an attitude of solidarity with Joffre and the French government on a strategic question while attempting to force Kitchener’s hand on the command issue. Sir John’s lack of agreement with Kitchener thus became an important factor in French military dominance. On the question of the piecemeal engagement of British units, Sir John appeared very cooperative, promising that “the troops will engage on the left wing as they arrive.”⁵¹ “But … let’s wait!” wrote the ever-suspicious Berthelot.⁵² And indeed, in a written statement of the same day, Sir John agreed only to engage corps-by-corps rather than division-bydivision as the French had requested.⁵³ One British division in each corps would thus stand idle for about three days until the second division arrived. Nor was Joffre’s earlier attempt to impose his will on Sir John for division-by-division engagement by use of the diplomatic channel successful. Kitchener predictably relayed Joffre’s message to Sir John, leaving him irate at both Kitchener and Joffre. The incident was closed only after Joffre denied any personal involvement, claiming that the politicians had acted on their own initiative.⁵⁴ Neither Joffre’s persuasion nor Kitchener’s intervention were able to budge Sir John from his position.

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The French therefore had to be content with a compromise solution. The confrontation over the redeployment of the BEF would culminate in a second command crisis of major proportions, as shown in the next chapter, when the British failed to march on Lille with the desired energy and made plans to fortify their ports.

Clash of Strategies over Antwerp, –0 October The conflict deepened between the French Command and the British government as the expedition for the relief of Antwerp approached the execution stage. After 2 October, all the energy of the British government was directed toward mounting an expedition and delaying the fall of the fortress, while Joffre resisted its implementation at every step of the way, both with his government and with Kitchener. On  October, even before learning the next day of Kitchener’s proposal for an Anglo-French relieving expedition, Joffre had stoutly resisted his own government’s proposal to send a territorial division from Le Havre to Ostend for relief of the Belgians. This division should be sent to Dunkirk, he retorted, where it could act in conjunction with other French forces and still join up with the Belgian army, which he insisted must leave Antwerp.⁵⁵ Under government pressure Joffre nonetheless yielded, agreeing to send a territorial division to Ostend, but only on condition that it join, at Ghent, Belgian forces leaving Antwerp. One territorial division, he stated, would provide no material aid, just moral support.⁵⁶ The next day Joffre proposed that a second territorial division from Paris join the first to render French aid less illusory. But the brigade of fusiliers marins (marines) eventually sent in its place was deployed, as Berthelot revealed, merely “to give the appearance of satisfying the Government within the means at our disposal.”⁵⁷ Joffre’s resistance to Kitchener’s proposed expedition for the relief of Antwerp was even more adamant. No active divisions could be withdrawn from the manoeuvre in progress, he wired his government on 2 October, flatly refusing Kitchener’s request. The French contribution would consist of a territorial division sent by rail from Calais or Dunkirk and a brigade of marines (instead of a second territorial division) to be sent by rail to Antwerp. He objected, moreover, to the British plan to send the 7th Division to Antwerp. He had requested, and obtained Sir John’s agreement, that the 7th and 8th Divisions land at Boulogne in order to

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join the rest of the BEF coming up from the Aisne and strengthen his flanking manoeuvre. Reiterating his earlier views on the danger of the Belgian army being pinned down in the fortress, he strongly urged that the relieving forces and the Belgian army join forces away from the fortress and keep open their line of retreat to the Allied left. “The best aid that we can give the Belgian Army,” he concluded, was the success of “the manoeuvre currently being executed” which, by concentrating large forces in the region of Courtrai, Lille, and Hazebrouck, would allow juncture with the Belgian army at Ghent.⁵⁸ In the background of Joffre’s opposition to an expedition for the relief of Antwerp was a related grievance. In response to the French request on 8 September for British forces at Dunkirk, the British government had sent a marine brigade but no territorials as the French had hoped.⁵⁹ Now unable to extend its flank to Antwerp for want of forces or the means to transport them, the French Command again made a specific request for British territorial divisions at Dunkirk.⁶⁰ “They claim to keep them [at home] in case the enemy should arrive at Zeebrugge, Ostend, Dunkirk, Calais and Boulogne,” noted Berthelot. Rejecting the concept of British home defence, he questioned whether “the best defence of English soil” would not be to prevent the Germans from arriving in these ports by immediately dispatching “these available divisions” to the appropriate front.⁶¹ But Kitchener, to that point, did not consider territorials fit for effective home defence, let alone for service in the field. The New Armies then being recruited were being reserved for the latter role. Despite the clash of French military strategy with the dictates of British policy, Kitchener was not deterred. When he heard very late on the night of 2 October of the Belgians’ intention to begin withdrawal of their army from the fortress (as Joffre had urged), Kitchener, in Asquith’s absence, called an emergency meeting of key cabinet ministers, Grey and Churchill. In their attempt to avert the disaster, the Belgians were promised the brigade of Royal Marines at Dunkirk for the next day and were exhorted to hold out until further reinforcements arrived. At the same time, Churchill volunteered to go to Antwerp to prop up Belgian resistance and to determine what further might be done for Belgian defence.⁶² Kitchener then, on 3 October, threw his whole energy into the creation of an expeditionary force for the relief of the port. Accepting with some reluctance the reduced French offer of one territorial division and

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one marine brigade instead of two territorial divisions, he committed all available British forces – the 7th Division (despite Joffre’s protests), the 3rd Cavalry Division, and, upon Churchill’s request from Antwerp, two brigades of partly trained naval reserves forming the Royal Naval Division – bringing the total expeditionary force to 53,000 men.⁶³ After landing at Zeebrugge on 6–7 October, the British force was to march on Antwerp under the independent command of Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Rawlinson, who was instructed to establish contact with the French forces landing at Ostend.⁶⁴ The expedition was thus launched over Joffre’s protest and with only token French support. Churchill’s mission to Antwerp was a further source of embarrassment to the French Command. Prior to his arrival there, the Belgian government, despite its natural tendency to cling to the fortress, had accepted Joffre’s advice to begin the withdrawal of its army from Antwerp toward Ostend in order to join with the Allied left.⁶⁵ But by the force of his personality and the optimistic promise of exaggerated Allied military aid (00,000 men in ten days, according to French sources), Churchill managed to persuade the Belgian Cabinet on 3 October to defer the evacuation of the fortress by at least three days, pending further aid.⁶⁶ Joffre persisted in his views. “Tell the King that the Army must not prolong its resistance until in danger of being locked in,” Joffre told the Belgian representative at gqg on 3 October. “It must not, at any cost, allow itself to be cut off from the Allied Armies.”⁶⁷ On 5 October, moreover, General Pau was dispatched from gqg to Antwerp with the mission of “assuring as complete cooperation as possible between the Belgian and French Armies” and to ensure that Belgian forces leaving Antwerp “continue their march to the southwest of the fortress with Allied forces.”⁶⁸ His mission essentially was to counteract that of Churchill, whose purpose was to have the Belgians hold on as long as possible. The French military strategy, although basically sound on the question of saving the demoralized Belgian army, made inadequate provision for covering its retreat, offering only the nominal protection of a territorial division and the marine brigade sent from Dunkirk to Ghent.⁶⁹ Later events would demonstrate the great difficulty of stopping the German offensive even with the support of British forces. Nor was French timing correct, for immediate evacuation of Antwerp would have allowed the German besiegers to push the Belgians far back along the Channel coast, endangering even the French Channel ports, long before the BEF arrived

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on the left flank around Ypres in mid-October. The British strategy of direct relief and delay in the Belgian evacuation of the area thus served as a valuable corrective to the French plan and prevented the loss of at least a portion of the Channel coast.⁷⁰

The Fall of Antwerp The conflicting strategies of the British government and the French Command with regard to Antwerp and the Belgian army, so evident as Kitchener attempted to set up a relieving expedition, were exacerbated as Joffre, acting in evident bad faith, failed to execute the promises of the French government. Recriminations reached a crescendo on 0 October, just after the fall of the fortress. According to Kitchener’s original plan, drawn up on receipt of French pledges, the British 7th Division and 3rd Cavalry Division were to arrive at Zeebrugge on 6 and 7 October, and the French territorial division and a brigade of fusiliers marins were to reach Ostend between 6 and 9 October. But the line of the Nethe, essential to the defence of the inner fortress at Antwerp, fell on 6 October, despite the help of the British marine brigade, which had arrived two days earlier, and the support of the Royal Naval Division on the fifth. Thus, on 6 October, the Belgian government, in consultation with Churchill and Rawlinson (who then succeeded the former as the military representative of the British government to the Belgians) decided once again, in view of the danger to the city from artillery bombardment and the “tired and dispirited” state of the Belgian army, to begin the evacuation of the fortress and the retreat of the Belgian army toward Ghent. Although Rawlinson still held out the hope of organizing “relieving forces at Ghent and Bruges,” which were “to move forward as soon as possible,” the fate of the fortress had been sealed. On 7 October, the Germans began their attack on the inner line of forts, and two days later Antwerp capitulated. The relieving expedition (still lacking French forces) had been mounted too late to be of any real help in defence of the fortress. Its fall had probably been delayed four or five days by Churchill’s energetic efforts.⁷¹ The French Command, in the meantime, had dropped the whole idea of participating in the expedition for the relief of Antwerp. On 6 October, the 87th Territorial Division, which was to have landed at Ostend in order to march on Ghent, began landing at Dunkirk instead, because of

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problems with debarkation at the Belgian port.⁷² Joffre then gave it a new mission: “to hold and organize the St. Omer region” in order to cover “English debarkations” and the left of Louis de Maud’huy’s new Tenth Army.⁷³ In his zeal to start the operation against the German flank, Joffre thus ignored both the need to cover the Belgian retreat from Antwerp and the pledge of his government to the British. On 7 October, when the French Command learned of the retreat of the Belgian army toward Ghent, Joffre finally decided, after consulting with General Ferdinand Foch (who had been appointed on 4 October to coordinate operations in the north of France) to send the territorial division to Poperinghe instead of St Omer in the hope of joining with the retreating Belgians.⁷⁴ The brigade of fusiliers marins, which was to have landed at Ostend on 6 October, was still in Paris at that time. Only after an urgent call from Kitchener on 7 October for the immediate dispatch of the French troops promised for the defence of Antwerp did the French Command order the fusiliers marins brigade to proceed directly by rail from Paris via Dunkirk to Antwerp. However, Joffre limited its mission to “facilitate the immediate evacuation of the Belgian Field Army and its juncture with Allied forces.”⁷⁵ Ultimately, General Pau took the brigade no farther than Ghent, and assisted by a few British battalions of Rawlinson’s force, it rendered good service on 9 October in warding off the German cavalry who were attempting to thwart the retreat of the Belgian army.⁷⁶ Joffre thus sent no force for the relief of Antwerp and dispatched the promised territorial division and the brigade of marines only for the purpose of guaranteeing the Belgian line of retreat. In response to an additional request from Kitchener on 7 October for a second French territorial division for the relief of Antwerp, Joffre had a territorial division at Cherbourg moved to Dunkirk between 0 and  October, but it was too late to be of service to the Belgians and was deployed to cover the British debarkation on the northern flank.⁷⁷ The failure of the French to follow through on their original plan brought bitter recriminations from Kitchener, who complained to Millerand on 8 October about the French change of plan. The French territorial division had been sent to Poperinghe instead of Ostend without prior agreement, he complained, and Rawlinson, concentrated at Bruges as promised, had not been able to locate the French fusiliers marins (stopped by Pau at Ghent), let alone determine their mission.⁷⁸ “If the movements anticipated for our territorial division were not executed,”

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replied Millerand four days later, “it is uniquely due to circumstance over which we have no control.” The division that landed at Dunkirk was prevented from reaching Poperinghe by German cavalry, he said, and was directed in part toward St Omer to cover the debarkation of British troops.⁷⁹ No explanation was given for the change of plan about which Kitchener had inquired. On 7 October, when the danger of Antwerp falling had become imminent, Kitchener had also begun to realize that the relieving force was not adequate to save the fortress. As a last-ditch effort, he attempted, in a message to Sir John French, to again involve the BEF concentrating in northern France in its defence.⁸⁰ But, he mused, “if General Joffre considers that even the momentary absence of British troops from the main theatre of operations could not take place, without compromising the success of the campaign,” he would be inclined to agree. In that case, “it would appear preferable to send the 7th Division (now in Belgium) to join up with the Army of the Marshal rather than directing it to Antwerp.”⁸¹ The two field commanders were entirely agreed on the appropriate reply, having already concerted their efforts in an attempt to have the 7th Division land at Boulogne. “In the present situation at Antwerp, the reinforcement of the garrison by the 7th English division would have no impact on the fate of the place,” Joffre told Sir John. He therefore backed Sir John’s view that “the success of the main theatre of operations would be seriously compromised, if any part of the English forces were withdrawn.” “The best and surest way to help Antwerp is to pursue with the greatest possible speed the plan presently in operation,” the field commanders declared in unison.⁸² Kitchener thus fell in with the demands of the field commanders. Rawlinson’s mission, in fact, had now been changed from one of relieving the fortress to that of extricating the naval division (to be sent home via Ostend) and assuring the safe retreat of the Belgian army. Although his force had initially been dispatched on a temporary mission, the Cabinet decided on 9 October that it would then “join Sir John’s Command” on a permanent basis.⁸³ In the crisis, the field commanders’ united request for all available forces in the main theatre, including the 7th Division, thus won the approval of the Cabinet, which, because of the fear of invasion, had not been willing initially to allow it to depart “for more than a rapid movement on Antwerp.”⁸⁴

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On the question of Rawlinson’s independent command, Sir John found ready allies, not only in the French government, which took up the matter with Kitchener on 5 October and again on 8 October, but in Joffre, who took up Sir John’s cause as a means of submitting all British forces to French direction. “To coordinate operations in the north,” Joffre wrote on 9 October to Kitchener, “it is essential that all English troops be put under the sole command of Marshal French,” who “acts in harmony” with General Foch, who has command of all French troops in the region.⁸⁵ This request found its origin in a complaint from Rawlinson on the lack of information on the location of the fusiliers marins.⁸⁶ The next day Joffre made an even more pressing demand for unity in the British Command as a result of a new difficulty between Pau and Rawlinson. Anxious to have the Belgian and British forces leaving Antwerp join with the Anglo-French left concentrating in Flanders and to act aggressively on the outer German flank, Joffre requested on 8 October that the Belgian army retreat not to Ostend and Bruges but behind the Scheldt River to the Deynse-Thielt-Courtrai region,⁸⁷ and that Rawlinson at Bruges march against the communication lines of German cavalry in the Ypres-Menin region in order to secure the Belgian line of retreat.⁸⁸ The exhausted Belgian army, unwilling to engage immediately in a new offensive action, retreated behind the Lys to the ThouroutDixmude-Ostend region. Although Pau managed to arrange with Rawlinson for a sortie of mixed Anglo-Belgian cavalry from Roulers as Joffre had requested, the sortie was not executed to Pau’s satisfaction, for Rawlinson, on Kitchener’s advice, kept part of his cavalry division at Ostend to cover debarkations.⁸⁹ Joffre took up Pau’s complaint with Kitchener in very blunt language. “General Pau informs me that his dispositions taken in accord with General Rawlinson and on my advice were only partially executed,” he wrote on 0 October, “because of contrary advice given by Lord Kitchener.” “It is indispensable that … General Rawlinson receive orders from only Marshal French who functions in constant agreement with myself,” he continued. “The concerted action of Allied troops in the north of France and in Belgium cannot be assured otherwise.”⁹⁰ To Joffre, who was by now very irate with the British government, it appeared that Kitchener had grossly interfered in his operations and his plan of retreat for the Belgian army.

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The incident, really a small one, but exaggerated out of all proportion because of the preceding conflict, took on considerable significance. “I cannot imagine what ‘B’ Joffre has got in his bonnet,” wrote Kitchener to Sir John on  October, amazed at Joffre’s vigorous complaint. “I never heard of the arrival of General Pau on the scene until after I had placed the troops under you,” he continued. “It seems quite absurd to talk of the French General being interfered with in a matter relating purely to British troops” in view of the fact that, according to the telegrams in his possession, Joffre “through his Government agreed that the operations for the relief of Antwerp should be conducted under a British General.”⁹¹ This was in fact the case: Joffre apparently had overlooked a communication received from Pau via the French government on 8 October that had placed Rawlinson in charge of the operations at Bruges.⁹² Kitchener’s ire at what he considered unwarranted interference by the French Command in matters of British policy reached a crescendo. In a pointed message to the French government, he stated that the British government “must have the right to send troops for separate operations against the Germans under whatever command seems to them most desirable.”⁹³ The British government “must maintain their rights,” he affirmed in a letter to Sir John, “to determine the general policy” under which British forces “are employed and under whose orders they shall act.” The French must understand that “His Majesty’s Government must retain the right (which I hope they will never have to exercise) to withdraw troops from France whenever they consider such a course imperative.”⁹⁴ Conflict over the defence of Antwerp thus struck at the very core of Allied cooperation as Kitchener evoked for the first time the ultimate British weapon – that of withdrawing British troops from France. As his statement implied, broader political issues were involved beyond military ones.

Immediate Political Consequences The failure of the Antwerp expedition had important political implications. In Great Britain, in the words of one commentator, “Antwerp was widely regarded as an unmitigated disaster, a kind of twentieth century Walcheren Expedition (809).”⁹⁵ In the press, criticism focused largely on Churchill, who was blamed for the “Antwerp blunder” and the dispatch (despite his orders to the contrary) of the raw naval recruits of the Royal

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Naval Division, many of whom had never fired a rifle before. Responsibility for the loss of two marine battalions (,560 men), who were interned in Holland after their line of escape was cut off on 9 October, was further heaped on his shoulders. His position before the country and the Cabinet was thus seriously undermined.⁹⁶ Kitchener, on the other hand, who had initiated the expedition, was little criticized in the press for his role and managed to escape largely unharmed in political circles by blaming the French for the failure of the expedition. The failure of French cooperation, Asquith complained to the King on 9 October, “made it impossible to dispatch Gen. Rawlinson’s divisions as a relieving force.”⁹⁷ The failure of the expedition thus left Kitchener and the Cabinet embittered toward the French.⁹⁸ “The non-appearance of the French division after agreeing most formally to come & cooperate upset anything that could be done,” wrote Kitchener to Sir John,⁹⁹ setting forth his entire case. He complained specifically that by “orders changing the directions of the Territorial Division, which was promised to concentrate at Ostend to help in the relief of Antwerp,” Joffre had “failed to carry out an engagement made by his Government after reference to him and became therefore to a considerable extent responsible for the fall of Antwerp and moreover placed 8000 British Marines and Bluejackets who were in Antwerp in considerable peril.”¹⁰⁰ Joffre’s foot dragging in the operation had indeed become a considerable inconvenience. But it is highly doubtful that the early arrival of one territorial division would have substantially altered the outcome of the siege. The relieving expedition came too little and too late to be much help. Kitchener’s real need was to find a political scapegoat for the failure of the expedition. The British Command in France provided little consolation to Kitchener, who sent a copy of the correspondence between himself and the French government to Sir John for his comments. “It is clear,” wrote Wilson, “that K. has got himself into a loop about sending (& losing) marines at Antwerp & is now whining to Sir John to help him. I strongly advised Sir John on no account to all[ow] himself to be dragged in. K sent this exp[edition] to Antwerp ag[ains]t Joffre’s strong protest & without Sir John’s knowledge. Let the fool stew in his own juice.”¹⁰¹ Sir John followed Wilson’s advice to the letter. In polite language he informed Kitchener that had he been consulted in advance, he might have “avoided” or at least “warned” of “some of the pitfalls which the

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French (unwittingly) put in the path of people who are not accustomed to deal day by day with them.” “They are always late with reinforcements or support,” he observed, “and territorials are not to be trusted.”¹⁰² Piqued by Kitchener’s independent action, Sir John thus had the last word on his disconcerted superior. The question of Rawlinson’s independent command in the final analysis was resolved amicably. In a letter on 0 October, Kitchener expressed his confidence in Sir John and announced Rawlinson’s subordination to him,¹⁰³ thus resolving the conflict and clearing the air between them. As Sir John and Joffre were in essential agreement on strategic matters, and as the fallen fortress was no longer a matter of direct concern, harmony was restored. Resisting the Belgian desire to seek refuge at Le Havre by retreating through Dunkirk and Calais, the French Command insisted that the dispirited Belgian army cling to the last fragment of Belgian territory and contribute to the defence of the country.¹⁰⁴ On  October, Joffre urged the Belgian king, via the French government, to relinquish his command and allow Belgian troops be placed directly under Joffre’s orders.¹⁰⁵ King Albert, with the support of his government, maintained his command, but recognizing the need for the coordination of Allied forces, he agreed to receive direction from French Headquarters on the same basis as the British commander-in-chief.¹⁰⁶ At the same time, he indicated his intention to remain in Belgium in defence of Belgian soil.¹⁰⁷ A plan for the juncture of all forces in the north – Belgian, British, and French – and an attack on Lille, drawn up by Foch on 0 October and approved by both Joffre and Sir John, brought the question of AngloFrench conflict of strategy over the defence of Antwerp to an immediate close.¹⁰⁸ But the British hope of clearing the Channel of German submarine bases, redeeming Antwerp, and rolling up the enemy flank by a breakthrough in Flanders would persist as an element of British strategic thought and finally result in Sir Douglas Haig’s costly Passchendaele offensive in the summer of 97.¹⁰⁹

Political Competition over Belgium With the juncture of British, Belgian, and French forces, a new issue arose, relating to competition between the French and the British for influence and control over the Belgian army. While the overt discussion

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at the time was on the military merits of competing strategies so far as the defence of Antwerp was concerned, considerable evidence shows that both countries had competing political interests for postwar influence or control of the small state. This became manifest almost at once, as Foch established contact with the Belgian Command and drew up a retreat plan for the battered Belgian army in conjunction with Anglo-French forces. The final consequence was that although it was the British who had sent an expedition to save Antwerp, the Belgian army when it arrived on its defensive position behind the Yser was buttressed by the French 42nd Division on the coast and the French IX Corps on its right, and it was excluded from direct contact with the British. This was largely the work of Foch who, like the French Command, had distinct views on the role that Belgium should play in French postwar security and defence. As the French responded to the crisis in the field, the need to support the Belgians provided them with an opportunity to advance their political agenda. Foch was concerned that the dispirited Belgian army had retreated from the Roulers-Thourout-Ostend position, which he had asked them to hold on 4 October, and had fallen back to the Yser.¹¹⁰ GQG was also very anxious about the Belgians in view of an intelligence report indicating that a new German corps was marching toward Bruges. As the Belgians guarded the British left flank, it was essential that they hold, said a note from Joffre.¹¹¹ On 6 October, Foch therefore visited Belgian Headquarters at Furnes, which, according to his account, was in “a state of great disorder and moral depression.” Using his full capacity to inspire confidence, he attempted to strengthen the Belgian will to resist. The Belgian army must hang on to a strip of national territory, he told King Albert. German forces were second-line troops, attacking only with artillery, not bayonets. They could therefore be resisted by digging in. French reinforcements would be sent, he promised, but the Belgian army must resist until they arrived. The Belgian cause was too just and the trials too severe for providence not to reward them if they persisted, he concluded.¹¹² Fortified by these arguments and the promise of French support, the Belgian King gave the order to resist on the Yser and “to organize and defend it with the utmost energy.” Foch, for his part, requested from Joffre that the Belgian army, which he described with undue optimism as “neither tired nor destroyed,” be sustained on its left by solid French forces.¹¹³ On his way to Furnes, he had stopped at St Omer to request that

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Rawlinson advance toward Roulers to divert the expected attack on the Belgians, and on the suggestion of Joffre, he asked that the British navy bombard the Ostend coast.¹¹⁴ Assured of Belgian resistance on the Yser, Foch then turned his attention again to promoting the British offensive on the Lys, which had begun to falter very badly. The British offensive on the Lys having stalled on the nineteenth, Foch developed a new offensive plan, aimed at countering the advance of the two new German corps reported to be marching toward the Belgian front.¹¹⁵ Actually, these units were part of the new German Fourth Army, consisting of four new reserve corps (badly trained young volunteers and the old men of the Landwehr) that were marching toward the Yser in an attempt to seize the remaining Channel ports, to “obstruct England’s Channel traffic,” and to roll up the Allied flank.¹¹⁶ The great German drive on Calais, much vaunted in the German press, had in fact begun, and it was stemmed only by the successful Allied resistance on the Yser. Foch’s plan was to split the new German forces by attacking toward Bruges on the left and Courtrai-Lille on the right. The Belgian army, assisted by a new French division on the sea front, would attack on the left; new French forces, notably the IX Corps, would attack next to the Belgians, and the British would attack on the right.¹¹⁷ The problem was that Sir John wished to advance the British I Corps to Bruges on his left, next to the Belgians, in the place that Foch wished for the French. The issue of influence over the Belgian army therefore came to the fore. The question was debated through Wilson, who, visiting Foch at Doullens on the afternoon of the twentieth, “told him [of] Sir John’s proposals, i.e. to send I Corps to Bruges! To take ground to his left with II and III [Corps] & to get the French to take up the Lys.” “Foch listened & grunted and told me his plan,” Wilson wrote, which was to have the Belgian army, assisted by French forces on both sides, march on Bruges on 27 October.¹¹⁸ The British would advance toward Courtrai and Lille on the right. When Foch’s plan was relayed to Sir John, he “of course stormed at first, said he would report Foch to the Gov’t for taking command of the Belgian Army [and that] he would not take his orders from a junior.”¹¹⁹ Sir John maintained his plan, unwilling to yield to Foch’s ploy.¹²⁰ But “violent attacks” on the British right on 20 October obliged him to have his right and centre dig in, maintaining an aggressive posture only on his left, where the I Corps engaged fully on 2 October. Violent German

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attacks all along the British front on 2 October then stalled his action (as Wilson had predicted), although its movement toward Bruges caused a lengthening of the front.¹²¹ As the Belgian army retreated, Foch thus made sure to have it encased with French troops. While the British pursued their attack toward Courtrai, the Belgian army resisted with the greatest difficulty the German offensive on the Yser, aimed at seizing Dunkirk and Calais and rolling up the French flank. As the German offensive got fully underway after 8 October, the Belgian army, supported only by the French marine brigade at Dixmude and, after 20 October, by part of the French 42nd Division at Nieuport, resisted courageously but finally started to give way. On 24 October the Germans broke through the middle of the Belgian line on the Yser, endangering the entire Allied left flank.¹²² Faced with this grave situation, Foch ordered a brigade (of the 42nd Division) to strengthen Belgian resistance at Ramscapelle and made a personal visit to Furnes to stiffen the Belgian will to resist.¹²³ As a new line of defence, he suggested the Nieuport-Dixmude railway behind the Yser, without any comprehension (by his own admission) of its strategic value as a dike.¹²⁴ Ramscapelle, which had been taken by the Germans, was then recaptured with the help of the French. On 26 October, under renewed German pressure, the Belgian army, which had borne the brunt of the fighting for more than a week, retreated behind the railway and opened the dikes on the left bank of the Yser against the enemy.¹²⁵ By the twenty-ninth, “the inundation began to cause difficulty to the enemy drawn up behind the railway,” Foch reported, and on  and 2 November the Germans were obliged to retreat behind the Yser, leaving “several batteries of artillery stuck in the mud.”¹²⁶ The solution arrived at was more a question of piecemeal improvisation than any overall defensive plan. Because of the gallant efforts of the Belgians, however, and timely French support, the Allied left flank was now secure, safely anchored at Nieuport on the sea. But at the end of this heroic campaign, it was French forces – the fusiliers marins and part of the 42nd Division – which anchored the Belgian army on the seacoast, and the French IX Corps that was positioned next to the Belgians on their right, not the British I Corps. On 25 October, Sir John French expressed his concern to Churchill about his failed attempt to gain influence with the Belgians and the success of the French: “I tried hard to retain a hold on the Belgians and with them to operate alone on the Northern flank: but the French smelt a rat

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and sent Foch & a mission to take charge of the Belgians. I feel sure it was a political move. They were afraid of our developing a separate campaign & are determined to keep everything under their control. As the Belgians are practically the guests of France, using their territory and Calais as a base,” he wrote, “I had no alternative but to gracefully submit.”¹²⁷ The French likewise had their worries about British intentions. On 2 November, in private conversation with the French politicians and Joffre, Foch echoed the competition of the two armies for the control of the Belgian army and ultimately Belgium. “Foch, very eager … thinks he will win against the Germans in Belgium,” Poincaré reported, “but he very much distrusts the English. A number of their officers, he tells me, claim to make war only in order to keep Belgium.”¹²⁸ That the French had manoeuvred to maintain control of the Belgian army and had excluded the British from relocating on the coast in contact with the Belgian army caused substantial consternation to the British prime minister and key military leaders. After Kitchener had conversed with Sir John French at Walmer Castle on 20 December, Asquith wrote that Kitchener “admitted that they (the F[rench]) are disappointing & untrustworthy allies – rarely turning up at the time & in the place they promised … He says further that they have absolutely vetoed our proposal that he shd. go to the extreme left, & co-operate with the Belgians & our fleet. The Belges were most anxious to work directly with us, but the French sent them a special mission to remind them that they (the French) were their hosts & paymasters, and expected them always to obey their orders. What allies!”¹²⁹ The dispute came to a head early the next year as the French refused to allow the British use of the port of Dunkirk, despite repeated British requests to allocate Dunkirk and Calais as bases for supply of the British army.¹³⁰ On 3 March, in anticipation of Kitchener’s visit to France later in the month, Joffre sent his war minister a memo explaining the political considerations relating to the competition for control of Belgium, which underlay his military objections. Only the military reasons should be discussed with the British, he noted, such as the need to maintain French troops in what was a fortified place and the difficulty that would arise with British lines of communication crossing those used from Dunkirk to supply the Belgian army and the French Eighth Army. Making corrections in his own hand, he cut through to the deeper issue of influence over the Belgian government and army: “The marked tendency by Great Britain to take Belgium under its exclusive protection and to make it

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believe that its invaded territory could not be liberated except thanks to the unique efforts of England, has been manifested on several occasions and in different forms (English government intervention, at the time of the siege and fall of Antwerp – transportation of the British Army into Belgium – effort to take control of the Belgian Army).”¹³¹ These tendencies, Joffre claimed, had come to the attention of the Belgian king and prime minister, arousing their suspicions and drawing them closer to France. “As much from the point of view of the necessary liaisons in military operations as from the point of view of conserving our influence in Belgium at the conclusion of the peace, it is necessary for us to maintain close contact with the Belgian Army, by encasing it with French forces capable of sustaining it and of representing France upon entry into Belgium.”¹³² Joffre’s political purpose was here laid bare. He could not have stated it more clearly. The importance of Dunkirk in maintaining French control of the Belgian army can only be understood in relationship to its position close to the Belgian border, in which the headquarters of the Belgian army were located and from which, in conjunction with Calais, the Belgian army and the French Eighth Army next to it were supplied. In Joffre’s words, “Calais and Dunkirk are war stations. Dunkirk has a particular importance as a covering for our left wing. This emplacement, moreover, by recent works, has been transformed into a vast armed camp. Our interest is to remain the sole masters there, which would not be possible if we permitted England to install maritime bases. The organizations created by the English at Boulogne, Dieppe, Le Havre, and Rouen, allow us to imagine what would be their installation at Dunkirk and Calais.”¹³³ While the French Command was prepared to give part of the port capacity of Calais for British use if required, it was not prepared to allow British use of Dunkirk, since a British presence would counter French influence over the Belgians.¹³⁴ The issue for the French was more fundamental than even Kitchener and Asquith had realized. Long noted for his right-wing political and military views,¹³⁵ Foch clearly had his eye on the postwar situation by the late fall of 94 and appears to have been one of the first high-ranking French military officials to engage in unofficial lobbying on the subject. On 29 November he expressed his postwar vision to his old friend Paul Cambon, the French ambassador in London. By this time, the Allied attempt to outflank the German army in the Race to the Sea had failed, and the German drive toward the Channel had resulted in the hard-

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fought Battle of Ypres and the advent of trench warfare. Yet Foch was optimistic about the future: “When we will have broken the deadlock, and that, thanks to the solidarity of our alliances, it will be necessary to take precautions so as not to have to run the same dangers all alone.”¹³⁶ In addition to beating the German empire, Foch sought additional guarantees: “It will be necessary above all to limit her to her natural frontiers, the non-passable barriers west of the Rhine. To anchor military nations on the left bank of this river: France, on the one hand; Belgium, wiser from experience.”¹³⁷ The future marshal thus expressed, just four months after the outbreak of war, a view on French military war aims that included Belgium in the postwar defensive system. These aims were further elaborated under Joffre’s direction at French headquarters in studies in the spring of 95, which came to conclusions similar to those of Foch, and again in the summer of 96. The final expression of them in August 96, at a time when it was anticipated that the war would soon be over, called for a new basis for French security. Not only would Germany have to be thrust back across the Rhine and the left bank reconstituted as several small states, but Belgium, as part of the French defensive system, would have to be brought under French military control.¹³⁸ Throughout the war, the French thus refused to allow the British to anchor their forces on the Channel or to come in direct contact with the Belgian army. And ultimately the French, for this and other reasons, gained the upper hand over the British in the quest for preponderant influence in Belgium. The French failed to detach German territories up to the Rhine at the Paris Peace Conference in 99, but by that time they had established themselves as the primary defenders of Belgian security; so in spite of British unwillingness to participate, the French succeeded in negotiating a military convention with Belgium in 920, which drew Belgium into the French defensive perimeter.¹³⁹ Belgium reverted to an independent policy only after 936 when faced with the menace of Nazi Germany.¹⁴⁰

Conclusion The question of the relocation of the BEF on the Allied left was closely linked to the view that British forces could best defend British interests in defending the Channel coasts while at the same time shortening the

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communication lines with Great Britain. Taken up with the idea of a rollup victory on the Allied left with the arrival of reinforcements, Sir John French thus acted in concert with his government in demanding the removal of the BEF from the Aisne and its relocation on the French flank. This demand of British policy caused much consternation at French headquarters, in that it threatened to disrupt the French strategy of outflanking the German forces. The French, moreover, did not trust the British to fully engage in the delicate flanking movement underway. The issue was brought to a head when the further demands of British strategy for the defence of Antwerp forced the immediate relocation of the BEF to the north. The controversy over British redeployment on the French left was but the first phase of two major confrontations: the first, over competing, politically motivated strategies for the defence of Antwerp; the second, a new and important command crisis, brought to a head by British failure to meet French expectations in the march on Lille. The British Command in France tended to side with the operational strategy of the French Command in its emphasis on battle and victory in the field. As observed, Sir John resented any diversion that would draw forces from his operation and was unwilling to countenance an action not under his command. He thus sided with Joffre’s strategy of extending the Allied left wing rather than relocating the BEF to Belgium, which in any case was not a viable option militarily. While learning to work together for a common purpose, Joffre and Sir John nevertheless had not learned to resolve the differences between them. Sir John, for the sake of Allied solidarity, attempted to hide his difficulties with the French from Kitchener. “We are, and really always have been on the best of terms,” he told Kitchener on 3 October 94.¹⁴¹ Joffre, on the other hand, while preserving the façade of military solidarity, tended to seek redress for his grievances against Sir John through political action. An important element of hypocrisy and deception thus prevailed in their relationship, and it would become all too evident in the ensuing command crisis. The imbroglio over the defence of Antwerp underscored all the worst aspects of the Anglo-French coalition in the First World War. British strategy, developed on an ad hoc basis for the direct defence of a vital interest, ran afoul of French strategy, which was concerned more with a vast field manoeuvre aimed at outflanking the German army than the preservation of what the French considered an outdated fortress. Added to this basic difference of approach was Joffre’s evident bad faith in fail-

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ing to implement even the limited commitments he had made to deploy French forces in defence of the fortress. Relationships between Kitchener and the French thus reached a low point as Kitchener blamed French non-performance for the loss of Antwerp. His statement that the British government had the right to deploy its forces wherever it chose and under what leadership it chose was a stern warning for the future. Amid bitter recriminations over the defence of Antwerp, not only French strategy but political interests prevailed, as Foch took care during the Belgian retreat to bring the Belgian Command under its influence and to encase Belgian troops with French forces, thereby excluding the British from exercising influence over the Belgian army. The French thus won the contest for maintenance of control over the Belgian army, giving them primacy in the defence of Belgium. As a result of increased influence, the French established a military convention with Belgium in 920, following the war, which drew Belgium into the French defensive perimeter. Only after 936, when faced with the menace of Nazi Germany, would Belgium revert to an independent policy. While many have argued that the fall of Antwerp was the result of the failure of Allied cooperation,¹⁴² one might well argue that the outcome profited militarily from the application of competing strategies. French strategy, which focused totally on manoeuvre and battle, failed to appreciate the value of strategic locations and would have had the Belgian army fall back from the Antwerp fortifications after only a few days of bombardment. But at that moment, until the French flanking movement gained ground, there were no forces in the region to cover its retreat. Without the corrective of the British-sponsored expedition for the relief of Antwerp, although “too little, too late” to save that port, much more of the Channel coast undoubtedly would have fallen into enemy hands.

CHAPTER seven

The March on Lille, the Battle of Ypres, and the Second Command Crisis

According to Joffre’s interpretation, which he set forth in his memoirs, the victory of the Marne sealed his friendship with Sir John French. Thereafter their collaboration was cordial and effective, both on the field and against scheming politicians, who wished to retain or withdraw forces from their front for ill-founded peripheral operations in the Mediterranean.¹ Standard British accounts from British sources maintain further that the long-standing conflict between Kitchener and Sir John, which was exacerbated by the events of  September, finally led to Kitchener’s plan, which he proposed to the French government and command at Dunkirk on  November, to have Sir John replaced by Sir Ian Hamilton.² The truth in both instances was otherwise, as eye-witness French accounts reveal, such as Poincaré’s diary (which differs greatly in some instances from his published memoirs) and Foch’s handwritten Journées (daily journals) held in private hands, and other French sources.³ In reality, the events at Dunkirk on  November were merely the tip of the iceberg in the major second crisis between the British and French commands, in which Joffre – dissatisfied with Sir John’s performance in the march on Lille in mid-October and his plan for a vast system of entrenchments to shield the BEF should it be obliged to retreat to the coast – attempted to have Sir John replaced. In a nutshell, the second command crisis grew out of the British request while on the Aisne to have the BEF relocated in the north. As

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shown in the previous chapter, the French Command was most anxious to outflank the Germans in the north and was afraid that the British, “with their methodical slowness,” would not fully engage the enemy on the outer flank without the support of French forces,” and thereby would ruin their last chance at success.⁴ “The French are dissatisfied with us & don’t trust Sir John or Murray,” wrote Wilson.⁵ French attitudes derived at least in part from the first command crisis during the retreat, prior to the Battle of the Marne. The events of that crisis had confirmed for the French their prewar supposition that the British lacked the aggressive spirit, were better adapted to defensive than offensive warfare, and would not fight unless led into battle by strong French forces on either side. This basic conception was to be the source of many grave problems. As we have seen, Joffre reluctantly agreed on 30 September to the removal of a British cavalry division and one of the three British corps from the Aisne to the northern theatre, and to send the rest of the British force as the Allies advanced on the Aisne.⁶ But on 3 October, as the Germans launched their attack on Antwerp (the bombardment having begun on 28 September), the French Command, under strong pressure from Kitchener, who wished the BEF to redeploy on the Allied left in support of the Belgians, agreed to the full redeployment of the BEF – but on condition that the British forces engage à fond, division-by-division, as they arrived in the North.⁷ This condition Joffre also demanded of Kitchener through the French government.⁸ That Joffre had again turned to the politicians for support indicated that the crisis had once again reached significant proportions.

Foch, Wilson, and British Redeployment The move north of the BEF and its engagement on the Allied left flank raised a whole series of issues in Allied command relations. The appointment of Ferdinand Foch as Allied coordinator in the theatre, which marked this period, was not wholly welcomed at British Headquarters until the value of his leadership could be demonstrated. A fighting general, Foch’s alliance with Wilson raised serious problems within the British Command, which resented being subjected to the direction of Joffre’s subordinate at a time of tense relations with the French commander-inchief. While questions such as the timing and location of the debarka-

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tion of the force caused difficulty, deeper issues surfaced as the British assumed their position in the line on the outer flank of Maud’huy’s Tenth Army north of Arras and engaged the German army. Crisis followed crisis as the British failed to reach French expectations in the march on Lille. On 4 October 94, Foch assumed the mission of coordinating operations on the Allied left wing under the title of assistant to the commander-in-chief.⁹ Unhappy with Gallieni, who claimed the victory of the Marne for himself, Joffre had sought to replace Gallieni with Foch as his designated successor, but this failed because of support for Gallieni from the parliamentary left. Foch’s Catholicism and right-wing views may also have been a factor. Thus, Joffre instead had Foch appointed as his adjoint, but with the powers of an army group commander. Poincaré and Millerand agreed privately to Foch’s designation as eventual successor to Joffre, but no official “letter of service” was ever given.¹⁰ Foch was an excellent choice for the coordination of operations in the northern theatre. Possessing close associations with key British military figures, including a prewar friendship with Wilson, Foch had a better appreciation of the nature and character of the British army than any other French general. Vigorous in gesture, brusque in speech, he possessed an invincible will to “fight and win” and the capacity to inspire confidence and evoke the utmost energy from his associates and subordinates. Like Joffre, he believed in strong offensive action; he was less cunning and politically astute than his superior but was conscious of political implications and, as demonstrated by his acts, sometimes given to intrigue. As an artilleur (artillery officer), he was more sensitive than the French Command to the changing nature of warfare on the Western Front.¹¹ The confidence Foch inspired was entirely necessary, for no formal arrangement had been drawn up with the Belgian or British armies for the coordination of the uncertain operations in the north. His authority with Sir John depended solely on Joffre’s request on 5 October that the British coordinate their operations through him.¹² His accession profoundly altered Allied command relations, and it was some time before Sir John was willing to accept Foch’s leadership. The rather painful process of adjusting to the new command structure began as Foch was called in to resolve problems arising from the location of the new BEF zone of concentration in the north. Because of

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enemy incursions toward Hazebrouck, the original assembly point for the British II Corps, Joffre proposed debarkation, using another rail line, in the Calais-Gravelines region, far to the north on the coastline. Sent to coordinate with Foch, Wilson was concerned that the BEF would be exposed to isolated German action, and he rejected this plan, advocating a more southerly zone near Doullens–St Pol. The French Command accepted and then rejected this proposal. Joffre, who had control of the railways and thereby could regulate the location of British debarkation, ordered the British to land farther north between Etaples and Abbeville; but he accepted the British proposal for the St Pol–Doullens–Arras triangle, about twenty kilometres northeast of the Abbeville railhead, as the final zone of BEF concentration. At the same time, he urged Sir John to march rapidly to assist the French Tenth Army, with details to be worked out later between Wilson and Foch. To calm the ever-suspicious Berthelot, the alleged British agreement to engage by successive divisions (not corps) was again reiterated.¹³ All of this greatly irritated Sir John. Still chafing from Joffre’s use of the diplomatic channel to compel his division-by-division engagement, he particularly resented the imposition of a new intermediary between himself and Joffre in the person of Foch, which further degraded the position of the British Command vis-à-vis that of the French.¹⁴ The dynamics within the British Command were also altered because the Foch-Wilson connection challenged the authority of Murray. Foch’s intervention on the deployment issue thus precipitated a renewed eruption between Wilson and Murray on 6 October. Murray, resentful that Wilson had been sent to coordinate with Foch the details of British concentration, denounced Wilson to Huguet. Wilson then approached Billy Lambton, Sir John’s personal secretary, who agreed that Murray’s jealousy at the loss of his dominance was a problem. Lambton attempted to influence Sir John, who agreed to talk to Wilson. But this chat was delayed, and by then Murray and Wilson had reached a private accommodation. Their partial reconciliation centred on the mounting discontent of both with Sir John! Although the matter was allowed to lapse temporarily, the circle of persons involved in the conflict was widened to include the British government when Sir John sent Lambton to discuss the situation with Kitchener.¹⁵ If Sir John was ineffective, the continual strife in his command was one of the underlying reasons; this strife would increase as

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Wilson exerted greater influence on field operations because of his close association with Foch. Close personal contact between Foch and British Headquarters began on 8 October as the British Command moved to Abbeville to be near the main concentration of its troops. En route Sir John, Murray, and Wilson met Foch at his headquarters at Doullens, and all left fired up to fight. News that Antwerp had fallen (it actually fell the next day) merely served to have Foch hasten the manoeuvre to join with the Belgian army.¹⁶ The concentration zone for the British III Corps, which Sir John had requested for St Pol the day before, was moved farther north to the St Omer area under Foch’s influence.¹⁷ The French Command now deemed this region safe because of the retreat of German cavalry and the deployment of French territorials originally intended for Antwerp.¹⁸ It was agreed that the two British cavalry divisions and the British III Corps would deploy between Béthune and St Omer immediately upon arrival on 2 October.¹⁹ “I think we are going to hit the extreme right of the Germans & hit it hard,” wrote Wilson optimistically,²⁰ reflecting Foch’s tonic effect on the British Command. Foch’s enthusiasm also overcame whatever reluctance Sir John harboured to engage each corps until it was fully arrived, with the result that he promised to send III Corps forward division-by-division as it arrived, reassuring the skeptical at GQG .²¹ The British willingness to engage III Corps by division upon arrival rested on renewed confidence, as new forces swelled the strength of the BEF and old forces were regrouped.²² On 9 October, the st and 2nd Cavalry Divisions arriving from the Aisne were grouped into a cavalry corps under General Edmund Allenby, and the 7th Infantry Division and 3rd Cavalry Division, operating behind the Lys, placed under Sir John’s command on 9 October, were formed into the IV Corps the next day.23 On the other hand, Sir John’s direct relations with GQG remained very strained. When in a long memo on 8 October Joffre underscored the need for the engagement of successive divisions as they arrived, Sir John countered by demanding the immediate transfer of I Corps to the north.²⁴ Huguet’s attempts to convince Sir John that no firm date had been given for the corps’s relief and that its attrition on the Aisne was moderate fell on deaf ears. On 9 October, GQG decided to relieve the corps; ultimately, the two divisions of the I Corps were relieved successively, beginning on

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2–3 October, and their transportation to the north was completed on 9 October, six days later.²⁵ This final step in the redeployment of the bef, however, led to the loss of the forward British position across the Aisne, when the two and a half French divisions sent to relieve it were thrown back on 30 October.²⁶ With a new line of communication established with the French, Sir John could be on very good terms with Foch while being very unhappy with the French Command. This was demonstrated in the elaboration of a new offensive plan to effect the juncture of Belgian, British, and French forces in preparation for an advance on Lille. To begin on the morning of 3 October (as III Corps came into action), the British offensive would move forward from the Cassel-Béthune line on the left past Lille to Courtrai against presumed light forces, while the French X Corps on the British right pushed forward past Lille to Tournai on the Scheldt. Behind Courtrai and Tournai the dispersed forces from Antwerp could safely gather.²⁷ This ambitious plan, which depended on a very energetic offensive by the British and the relative absence of enemy forces, was fully approved by Sir John.²⁸ “My relations with the English Army are marked by the greatest cordiality and the most perfect mutual confidence,” Foch reported to Joffre on 3 October, pointing to the improved relations between the armies.²⁹ Foch’s appointment thus helped to defuse the tension between Joffre and Sir John. Foch’s previous association with the British, particularly Wilson, his dynamism, and his presence on the spot contributed to more effective liaison.³⁰ Sir John’s initial resistance to the new arrangement nonetheless persisted until the events of the Battle of Ypres gave Foch a definite moral authority over him. Energetic British execution of Foch’s plan for the march on Lille was thus a matter of some doubt.³¹ The continuing goodwill of the French Command would depend on the extent to which Sir John, in the absence of his I Corps, pressed the march of his III Corps into the vital industrial region of Lille.

The Failed March on Lille The essential equilibrium of forces on the Western Front that had produced the stalemate on the Aisne continued to frustrate Allied operations on the extending flank. Typically, German forces arrived on time

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and in sufficient strength to thwart and even nullify the small initial French advances. The last hope of a decisive result therefore lay with the British, concentrated north of the La Bassée Canal. Only light enemy forces appeared to bar the route to Lille and beyond,³² so French expectations were very high. All went well for a time, or so it appeared, as British forces arrived in the north and began corps-by-corps, as Sir John had finally pledged, both to extend the French line on the flank of the new French Tenth Army north of Arras and to make credible advances toward La Bassée against the German flank. The offensive of the British II Corps was pushed with vigour, advancing by 8 October to the Givenchy–Aubers Ridge position, while suffering fairly heavy casualties. The III and IV Corps fighting around Ypres did less well, managing only to advance eight kilometres, thus failing to forestall the enemy and free Lille.³³ Foch’s entire focus was the joint offensive, on which he pinned considerable hope. But the British Command had other things on its mind on 3 October, the day it moved to new headquarters at St Omer. The question of bases and a possible line of retreat from its new position on the Allied left in case of an emergency had become a high priority and a matter of concern to the British government. From London, Churchill wrote urging Sir John to press for “Dunkirk as your advanced base and fortified camp.” “In view of the embarkation facilities, Calais or Boulogne ought to be entrenched too,” he enjoined.³⁴ Given the continual reinforcement to the German right, Sir John thus began to consider, with Murray’s advice, the creation of a vast fortified zone about Boulogne, which would “assure the freedom of his communications in any case and a refuge in case of failure.”³⁵ To counteract the cautious approach of his superiors, Wilson intrigued with Foch to force the hands of Sir John and Murray for a more forward defensive position. This caused considerable turmoil at British Headquarters.³⁶ Foch’s letter to Sir John suggesting “the preparation of a [more advanced fortified] position along the Béthune–Aire–St Omer Canal” produced a violent outburst from Sir John. Wilson ultimately had his way with Sir John, although Sir John’s response to Foch, suggesting a hundred kilometres of trenches snaking from Dunkirk to St Pol and Etaples, left Wilson thinking Sir John “must be going dottie.”³⁷ The entrenching was eventually accomplished with French help,³⁸ but it did not put to rest Sir John’s idea of a fortified camp at Boulogne.

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British concern for preparing a safe retreat while taking the offensive was but one indicator of the caution at British Headquarters. Conflict thus developed between the aggressive-minded Wilson and Murray and Sir John over execution of the planned offensive. On 4 October, Sir John hesitated to advance across the Lys, much to the horror of Wilson and Foch.³⁹ Foch visited Sir John on the fifteenth to shore up British determination to move forward offensively, which Sir John then did. Slow progress was made over the next few days, with a successful crossing of the Lys occurring on the sixteenth.⁴⁰ Foch, meantime, was concerned about the Belgians, who had retreated to the Yser from the Roulers-Thourout-Ostend position which he had asked them to hold on 4 October.⁴¹ GQG was also anxious in view of an intelligence report indicating a new German corps marching toward Bruges. As the Belgians guarded the British left flank, it was absolutely essential that they hold, said a note from Joffre.⁴² On 6 October, Foch visited Belgian Headquarters at Furnes, with the results noted in the last chapter.⁴³ Fortified by Foch’s arguments and the promise of support, the Belgian king gave the order to resist on the Yser and “to organize and defend it with the utmost energy.” Foch requested from Joffre that the Belgian army be sustained on its left by solid French forces.⁴⁴ On his way to Furnes, he had stopped at St Omer to request that Rawlinson advance toward Roulers to divert the expected attack on the Belgians and, on the suggestion of Joffre, asked that the British navy bombard the Ostend coast.⁴⁵ Having thus accomplished his desire with regard to the Belgians, Foch turned to the British, whose offensive along the Lys was faltering. At a conference at British headquarters on the seventeenth he persuaded Sir John, not without some difficulty, to renew the offensive.⁴⁶ Sir John, according to Wilson, “talked [such] arrant nonsense” in his idea of “masking Antwerp” that “Foch afterward said to Huguet that Sir John ought to be sent home at once and I ought to replace him.”⁴⁷ The issue was further exacerbated on 8 and 9 October when the British II Corps and IV Corps failed to make significant advances toward Lille and on the Lys. The British forces were hampered by a growing lack of officers, the inability to use artillery effectively on flat and marshy terrain that had numerous hedgerows, and the indecision of the corps commanders.⁴⁸ In addition, judging by his later aggressiveness, Sir John appears to have held back, not wishing to engage fully until the I Corps

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under Haig arrived rather belatedly on 9 October. This was certainly how it seemed to the French, who in a later report went so far as to trumpet their grievances to their ministers abroad, claiming that Sir John had not fully engaged until the I Corps and an Indian division had arrived.⁴⁹ It was the old story of “too little, too late.” By 9 October, the Germans had occupied Lille and put up a good defensive front just eight kilometres in front of it.⁵⁰ The failed offensive crystallized Wilson’s, Huguet’s, and Foch’s opposition to Sir John. When the offensive ground to a complete halt on the nineteenth, Wilson’s conclusion, echoing that of Foch two days previously, was that “Sir John ought to be sent home.”⁵¹ The only question remaining was the extent to which Joffre, who had largely been in the shadows since Foch’s appointment and was not directly involved in the dispute, would react to the British failure to march on Lille on this, the last real opportunity, before serious resistance was encountered all along the line on 20 October.⁵² In effect, the frustration felt by Foch, Wilson, and others stemmed to a considerable extent from the puncturing of a bubble of false expectation that this offensive would cause the great strategic roll-up of the German flank.⁵³ The growing strength of the defensive, as both sides learned the value of entrenchments, and the presence of the German Sixth Army just beyond the Lys, guaranteed that there would be no great strategic victory against the German flank. Sir John’s great sin had been his failure to press the offensive with the desired energy. The offensive stalled not merely because of the hesitation of the British Command but also because of the caution exercised by the executants. Blunted by the lack of officers, the British appeared unable to mount a sustained offensive against well-placed defences in an area that made the deployment of artillery very difficult. This, however, was as much a reflection of the growing power of the defensive, which blunted further advances on both sides, as a lack of goodwill on the part of Sir John.

The Request for Sir John’s Recall The results were very disappointing to the French. By 9 October the British offensive on the Lys had stalled, and the Germans had occupied Lille and put up a good defensive in front of it. In response to this situation, Foch developed a new offensive plan, aimed at countering the advance

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of two new German corps, which were reported to be marching toward the Belgian front and whose aim was to seize the remaining Channel ports, “obstruct England’s Channel traffic,” and roll up the Allied flank. Foch’s plan was to split the new German forces; the Belgians, assisted by a new French division on the sea front, would attack on the left, toward Bruges; new French forces would attack next to the Belgians, and the British would attack on the right toward Courtrai-Lille.⁵⁴ Sir John, however, wished to advance the British I Corps to Bruges on his left, next to the Belgians, where Foch wished to place the French – thereby bringing the issue of influence over the Belgian army to the fore. In spite of Foch’s orders, Sir John maintained his plan. But violent German attacks all along the British front on 2 October stalled its action, as Wilson had predicted, although its movement toward Bruges caused a lengthening of the front. The heightened danger to the BEF as a result of the German offensive – the first step in the battle of Ypres – raised anew the question of a safe line of retreat.⁵⁵ At this juncture, having been briefed before the meeting by Foch and Huguet about their difficulties with Sir John, Joffre had a short but significant interview with the British commander-in-chief on 2 October at British Headquarters. The interview went well as future operational plans were discussed, but then Sir John “asked for facilities to make a great entrenched camp at Boulogne to take the E[xpeditionary] F[orce].” According to Wilson, “Joffre’s face instantly became quite square and he replied that such a thing could not be allowed.” With this brusque refusal, Sir John backed down.⁵⁶ Joffre reacted dramatically. On 23 October he requested Sir John’s recall and his replacement by Wilson. As Poincaré recorded in his diary, “Joffre is more and more unhappy with Marshal French who never makes up his mind to march and who, the day before yesterday would have been able, says Penelon [liason officer with GQG ], to retake Lille without striking a blow. Joffre would like that we obtain French’s recall from the English Government and his replacement by General Wilson. Penelon goes so far as to fear that French, under the pretext of defending Calais, will fall back to that city.”⁵⁷ GQG thus maintained the close connecting link between the dispute over the transfer of the BEF and Sir John’s failure to march on the Lys and take Lille. Sir John’s failure to march on Lille was thus seen by Joffre as merely the confirmation of GQG ’s earlier fears of British unwillingness to fight until fully assembled.⁵⁸ Joffre’s views and those of the French

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Command were oversimplified and were the result more of distrust than of a careful assessment of the facts. Sir John had acted out of caution rather than out of a desire to prolong the earlier dispute. Yet it was this caution that made the French reluctant to allow the transfer of the BEF to the decisive flank. The concession of transferring the BEF, which Wilson had won from Joffre on the promise of greater BEF participation, had backfired, and now heads had to roll. By 9 October, Lille was firmly in German hands – a great disappointment to Joffre, who had set his heart on redeeming the northern industrial city from the enemy. His fury was compounded by Sir John’s plan, unveiled at a conference on 2 October, to build an entrenched camp at Boulogne (the idea having been discussed at British Headquarters since 3 October), from which to extricate the BEF in case the Belgian holding action along the coast failed to hold.⁵⁹ Antwerp had fallen on 9 October, the Belgians were in retreat, and the Battle of the Yser had not yet been won. This was too much for Joffre, who expected British generals in the field to act with the same vigour as French ones. A second major AngloFrench command crisis thus developed in October–November 94. The true significance of this crisis has yet to be realized. When taken in conjunction with the command crisis of August–September (in which Kitchener had forced the commander of the British Expeditionary Force to stand and fight with the French), and the several smaller crises on the battlefield that had developed in the meantime, it throws much light on the nature of Anglo-French military relations and the development of the larger issues of the war. “But how to replace French, who is an important figure in England?” mused Poincaré. “By whom and in what way to approach Kitchener on a question so delicate? Perhaps if Kitchener were to come to Calais or to Dunkirk while I am in the north [one week hence].”⁶⁰ The French Foreign Ministry handled the matter as Poincaré suggested by requesting that Kitchener come to an Allied conference at Dunkirk on  November. The French ambassador in London, Paul Cambon, was asked to accompany Kitchener, given the delicacy of the issue.⁶¹

The Coutrai Offensive and the Battle of Ypres By the time Kitchener arrived at Dunkirk on  November to meet with Joffre and the French president and a small coterie of French ministers,

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the situation had greatly altered. Kitchener arrived at Dunkirk in the middle of a very hot battle, the now famous First Battle of Ypres.⁶² In the meantime, Sir John French had launched a vigorous offensive with his I Corps toward Courtrai, and the Belgians had stalemated the Germans on the Yser. The final thrust of the German drive to the sea had reached its utmost fury with the attack on Ypres. In this perilous and hard-fought Anglo-French battle against the enemy, the dynamic of interallied field relations was dramatically altered. During the preliminary encounter – a “curious mixture of open and trench warfare” that developed on the British front between 20 October and the end of the month⁶³ – Sir John recovered his self-confidence to a remarkable degree and fully engaged the BEF in vigorous and costly defensive-offensive operations. His renewed confidence may be attributed to the arrival of the I Corps and an Indian division on the nineteenth and a second Indian division on the twenty-eighth.⁶⁴ This was the moment he had dreamed of when he had pressed on the Aisne for a repositioning of reinforced British forces on the Allied left – a chance to roll up the German flank. Moreover, he was enthusiastic about Joffre’s new plan for an AngloFrench offensive, presented during his visit to British Headquarters on 2 October. Although the stiff opposition encountered by the British I Corps on 2 October brought to a halt its advance toward Thourout (later changed to Courtrai at Foch’s request) and, as a result, obliged the entire BEF to go on the defensive,⁶⁵ Sir John took an unduly sanguine view of the situation in his report to Kitchener. “In my opinion the enemy are vigourously playing their last card,” he wrote on 22 October, “and I am confident they will fail.”⁶⁶ His hopes were based on the fact that the Belgians were holding their ground, French reinforcements were arriving (42nd Division and IX Corps) to assist the Belgian offensive, and especially that “General Joffre and General Foch are both up in the Belgian theatre of war, and are intent on driving the Germans east.”⁶⁷ This fact was of decisive importance in his calculation. The BEF would stand on the defensive until adequate French forces arrived to resume the attack.⁶⁸ Sir John therefore was not daunted by the events of 22 October – the creation of a German bridgehead across the Yser against the Belgians and strenuous attacks all along his own line.⁶⁹ Although unwilling to meet Foch’s request for a combined attack on 23 October because of the late

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hour he received the request (2:00 am), Sir John agreed to attack with his left on the twenty-fourth as new French forces (7th Division of the IX Corps) came into play on that flank.⁷⁰ Hopeful that the Germans might be driven from Ostend by the French and Belgians within a week,⁷¹ Sir John then ordered the British left wing (I and IV Corps and the Cavalry Corps) to advance toward Courtrai in conjunction with the French IX Corps (under General Victor d’Urbal’s Détachement de l’Armée de Belgique), which was to march toward Roulers.⁷² Thus, despite the very meagre results so far obtained and the intensity of the German counterattacks, Sir John reported to Kitchener with excessive optimism that “if things continued to go well, the battle was ‘practically won.’”⁷³ The French were impressed by this new British aggressiveness. “Marshal French whom I saw today,” reported Foch on 25 October, “is delighted, full of ardour, and decided to pursue his attack which, in effect, has begun toward Courtrai on the Lys.”⁷⁴ And the next day Joffre addressed a very complimentary telegram to Sir John (for whose recall he had just asked) in an attempt to further hearten his offensive. The enemy, “at the end of his strength,” was engaging his “last reserves,” Joffre claimed, a situation to which the British army “had greatly contributed,” and for which he expressed his gratitude: “[I] have the conviction that a general offensive of our troops, executed tomorrow, will allow us to obtain a significant success.”⁷⁵ Within the British Command, however, Sir John’s abandon of reserve and complete acceptance of the Joffre-Foch offensive plan disturbed Murray, who again saw his influence with Sir John being eroded in favour of Wilson and the French. As a result, on 24 October conflict erupted at British Headquarters. “Murray was tiresome again about orders,” wrote Wilson. Lambton, Sir John’s personal secretary, then took up Wilson’s cause and “had another long talk with Sir J. & … told him quite straight that Murray ought to be sent away as he was a positive danger, & no one from Corps Commander down had the slightest confidence in him.”⁷⁶ Sir John, however, merely eased the situation by sending Murray on a three-day trip to London with instructions to report to the government on the favourable prospects for the offensive.⁷⁷ In the meantime, Wilson, to his great delight, temporarily assumed the much-coveted post of chief of the British staff.⁷⁸ Murray’s resistance to Wilson had, in effect, become a barometer of the extent of Foch’s influence over the British Command. As Sir John,

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inspired by the hope of victory, gave full support to the French offensive plan, he too found less and less use for the advice of the cautious Murray. During Murray’s absence, Sir John was completely under the influence of Wilson and the French, and issued orders each day for the continuation of the offensive toward Courtrai right up to 29 October, despite the increasing intensity of enemy counterattacks.⁷⁹ However, he unwisely communicated to Wilson his strong personal preference for him over Murray, further raising the expectation of the aspiring subchief. “Sir John told me this morning,” Wilson wrote on 28 October, the first day of Murray’s return, “that had he known Murray was coming back so soon he would have stopped him. He said he would send him away again soon as possible.” “I hope so,” Wilson added. “Poor man, he is quite unfit for his post.”⁸⁰ The next day, Sir John again spoke to Wilson about Murray. “He realizes that Murray is not now the man for the place & I think he is determined to get rid of him,” wrote Wilson. “He said I should succeed.” He concluded, “I am sorry for Murray, but he is quite hopeless.”⁸¹ There the matter rested for two weeks. Sir John had apparently made up his mind to give his command a more aggressive stance by replacing Murray with Wilson, but he failed to act on the matter immediately. As discussed in the next chapter, the subchief then grew impatient and took the matter up with the French.⁸² The German offensive intensified. The Belgians having held on the Yser, the Germans threw all available forces against the British around Ypres at the end October in a concerted effort to break through to the sea. The British line, which extended over approximately forty-five kilometres, was not sufficiently dense to resist an all-out offensive.⁸³ Fortunately for the Allies, additional French forces arrived in the area by rail and became available, frequently in small units, to be inserted into the line, often in the nick of time, to sustain its weak points. Necessity thus led to a very considerable mixing of British and French units as crisis followed crisis on the battlefield. The full implications of this situation became evident during the crises of 30 and 3 October, when the Germans threatened to roll back the British line. An excerpt from Foch’s unpublished Journées that spells out the intensity of the first crisis on 30 October is worth citing at length: “The Battle of Ypres has been going on for several days. English cavalry, on a front of 5 kilometres, link the right of the British I Corps to the left of

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the British III Corps via Hollebecke, Wyschaete, Messines. On the 30th, they lose Zandvoorde, and Hollebecke; St Eloi is seriously threatened. Ypres and all her communications are in jeopardy. The danger is great. So much more so as the English do not have any reserves.”⁸⁴ Sir John was more concerned about the situation of his I Corps just to the north, where a serious crisis was also brewing. That evening, urgent messages were sent to Foch asking that the three French battalions already promised in support of Haig’s I Corps be increased.⁸⁵ No word, however, was received on the situation around St Eloi. “As is their custom,” wrote Foch, “when the news is bad, they remain silent.” Unable to obtain adequate information from Wilson on the telephone, he set out in person for British Headquarters, where he arrived about midnight:⁸⁶ I see Wilson, explain the situation to him, ask him theirs, which is clear; they have nothing available. On the morning of the 3st I will have 8 battalions (of the 6th Army Corps). I can provide these to them as support, to occupy Wyschaete, to defend St Eloi … [N]aturally, he accepts. We go to find the Marshal to whom we communicate this … He is deeply moved, touched, troubled, grateful for my initiative … “You are rendering me a great help,” he tells me. He thanks me … there is not a moment to lose.⁸⁷ By Foch’s promptly sending these eight battalions of the 32nd Division by automobile immediately on their arrival at Elverdinghe (from Compiègne by rail) and other forces as they became available, the situation was restored. Without his nighttime intervention, Foch concluded, “everything would have given way. The English Army first, then Ypres, which would have caused the rout of the entire left.”⁸⁸ And indeed, in recognition of Foch’s generosity, Sir John wrote him a very warm letter of thanks for this timely assistance, by which, he said, the situation had been restored.⁸⁹ By vigilance, initiative, and solidarity during the crisis, Foch thus began to ingratiate himself more thoroughly with the British chief. Sir John’s report to Kitchener was somewhat less glowing. Placed under Haig’s command – the first time French troops had fought under British leadership in the war – the eight French battalions were again on hand for counterattacks on  November. But Sir John observed that they afforded little comfort on 3 October as a new crisis developed at

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Gheluvelt in his I Corps. “It is always difficult to get in touch quickly with French reinforcements because they are generally late and their Staff arrangements are not the best,” he wrote to Kitchener, but he noted that “they have a way of their own which, when they really do begin, is very effective.” Moreover, Foch, he said, “was very desirous of giving all the help he could as he has always been.”⁹⁰ Foch’s moral ascendancy and right to command was more fully established the next day as an even more serious crisis unfolded. On 3 October, the British I Corps lost Gheluvelt southeast of Ypres in a violent German attack; and to make matters worse, the commanders of the two divisions and several of their staff officers were killed, wounded, or badly shaken as a shell fell on their headquarters at Hooge Castle.⁹¹ Foch recorded the dramatic interview with Sir John that took place at Vlamertinghe on 3 October shortly after 2:00 pm : The Marshal himself arrives. He paints the blackest picture of the situation. That is also the impression of the liaison officers (Major Jamet in particular …) The English I Corps is in a state of complete disorganization and disorder; the two divisional generals [are] in full retreat, two or three kilometres behind Ypres[.] Nothing more can be done. The Marshal is going to order a retreat … I oppose it with all the strength in my power … by the force of my arguments. The order absolutely forbidding retreat under any condition must be maintained; we must hold at any price. Any movement to the rear would be the signal for a thrust forward by the enemy which would sweep us away definitively and would remove all possibility of establishing a second line. The Corps must hold at any price, at least until evening[.] We will continue to sustain it by attacking on the left and the right. The Marshal becomes furious, declares that it is absolutely impossible … that his only recourse is to go and get himself killed with the I Corps if I maintain my way of thinking … I reply that he must not get himself killed, but maintain his orders and his troops. That is the only way to save the current situation. Any other decision would compromise it for a long time. It would be a disaster of the gravest consequences. The Marshal’s face is red as a rooster’s comb; he again declares that it is impossible. I fully maintain my point of view, my firm

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decision to continue the action whatever it costs, to sustain the English I Corps with every available force, which will engage in the midst of fleeing English troops, [and] will attack on their right and on their left, rather than retreat. Tomorrow, [when] I again have other reinforcements, I will resume the attack. Overpowered, but not convinced, he resigns himself not to order a retreat, [but] to maintain his I Corps in place (it was [still] there on November 2, proving that it could hold),[and] to follow my directives.⁹² By the force of his personality and the sheer will to hold, with or without the British, and to attack if necessary even in the midst of their retreat, Foch persuaded Sir John to hold the line. Foch’s account further demonstrates the full extent to which his leadership was accepted: In the meantime I had written the line of conduct to be followed on a sheet of paper so that some indications of my intentions remained. I gave the paper to the Marshal just as we were about to part; he had the integrity to take it, to write on the back, “Execute what General Foch has written,” and to send it to his troops, [to] General Haig undoubtedly. The battle was thus prolonged and finally resulted in an Allied “success.”⁹³ In endorsing Foch’s instructions, Sir John signified his full acceptance of Foch’s right to lead. This right was established, not by any act of state but by the sheer weight of personality. This was Foch’s finest hour during the battle. The compelling power, moreover, of Foch’s system of strong enclosing forces and help in times or crisis was fully vindicated. By execution of his instructions, the situation was restored (though not without grave anxiety) and the line held until new French forces, ultimately the equivalent of four divisions and a cavalry corps, were thrown into the salient to strengthen Allied resistance.⁹⁴ However, Foch had another motive for his method of deployment, interspersing French and British forces together, which, incidently, was criticized by GQG on tactical grounds.⁹⁵ The British “make war like a sport,” he told Poincaré on  November. “After having fought two or three days, they want to rest and think of reliefs, which upsets everything.”⁹⁶ Foch’s technique was designed to keep the British fully engaged

Joffre (centre) with Haig (left) and French (right) inspecting British troops. Joffre, who towers over his colleagues, leads the way. (shd )

Sir John French (left) and General Ferdinand Foch, who was appointed on 4 October 94 to coordinate Allied operations in northern France and Belgium (SHD )

Poincaré (left) and King George V inspecting troops in the north of France, December 94 (L’Illustration, 2 December 94)

The Prince of Wales (left), King Albert I of Belgium (centre), and King George V (right) reviewing Belgian troops in Furnes, Belgium, in December 94 (L’Illustration, 2 December 94)

Joffre and Foch walking arm in arm, followed by a retinue of officers, at the end of the 94 campaign season (L’Illustration, 9 December 94)

General Sir Douglas Haig, who commanded the British I Corps in 94 and the British First Army in 95, would replace Sir John French as commander-in-chief of the British Expeditionary Force in France in December 95 (shd ).

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at all times: Foch “refuses to relieve them with French divisions as they request,” a member of the Third Bureau reported after an interview with him on 5 November, “but he guarantees that they will always find him beside them for support … By appealing to British loyalty and honour, he manages to persuade them, and they hold.”⁹⁷ Under Foch, the conjoining of French and British forces, manifest of necessity during the First Battle of Ypres and later by design in Artois and on the Somme, became a doctrine for leading the British into battle. Undoubtedly, Foch exaggerated the seriousness of ceding small amounts of terrain and the importance of Ypres as a communication centre. Moreover, the Ypres salient to which he clung so tenaciously was to prove very costly to hold during the following years, as the Germans dominated the Allied line and the city with their artillery from the crest of the surrounding ridge.⁹⁸ Nevertheless, Foch’s assessment was fundamentally correct. The Allied line, after all, had but little depth for manoeuvre before reaching the sea. Any major breakthrough could have proved disastrous.

The Dunkirk Conference and its Aftermath Kitchener thus arrived at Dunkirk on  November in the middle of a grave and worrisome crisis during the hotly contested Battle of Ypres.⁹⁹ An anxious atmosphere prevailed at the conference as Kitchener huddled at 4:00 pm with Joffre and the French leaders Poincaré, Millerand, Ribot (the French minister of finance), and Cambon. Sir John French, supervising precarious counteroffensive measures on his line, was not available. Maxime Weygand, Foch’s chief of staff, gave news of the battle until Foch arrived as the group convened for dinner at 6:30 pm and reassured them with a report of dispositions made and an assurance that the line would hold.¹⁰⁰ The conference dealt with the command issue, reinforcements, and the sharing of guns and munitions. Under the influence of Foch, Joffre reversed his position on the replacement of Sir John French. Foch, in the absence of any defined command relationship, had worked out a more or less satisfactory arrangement through Wilson for coordination of the BEF.¹⁰¹ Moreover, Sir John had assumed a more aggressive stance with his I Corps, attacking vigorously in the last week of October. The German drive to the sea had reached its utmost fury with the attack on Ypres. But during the crisis that had devel-

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oped south of Ypres on 30–3 October, the situation had been saved by a fine example of military solidarity. Sir John, whose line began to break, had been most grateful for Foch’s immediate support and appeared willing at that point to follow his instructions.¹⁰² Though the military situation was still grave, military relationships were very much improved. The French therefore reversed their position. “Recently” reported Poincaré, Joffre “wanted Marshal French to be replaced and he asked us to obtain from Kitchener the appointment of another commander-in-chief. A difficult démarche. Today, under the influence of Foch, Joffre changed his mind. Foch has acquired a certain ascendency over French, he has established a constant liaison between the two armies, and this liaison is assured by General Wilson, he of all the English who best understands French ideas.”¹⁰³ Wilson, who had acquired information indiscreetly leaked to him by Foch, filled in the details: “When Lord K. was at Dunkirk on Nov. , he proposed to Joffre, the President (and I think Millerand) to remove Sir John, & put in Johnnie [Sir Ian] Hamilton. Joffre at once said he would not agree. He said he had worked cordially & well with Sir J. & he wd. not agree to Hamilton. The President backed up Joffre with the result that K. & his blasted proposal were knocked out.”¹⁰⁴ “Under these circumstances,” wrote Foch, “it was the opinion and the opposition of the Government and the French Command which very clearly saved the Marshal.”¹⁰⁵ In sum, the French Command had hoped to have Wilson as commander-in-chief of the BEF, but the Anglo-Irish and conniving subchief of staff was persona non grata with the Asquith government because of his role in the Irish Curragh affair before the war.¹⁰⁶ When Kitchener, who in Foch’s words, “arrived with the intention of sacking Marshal French, his old enemy,”¹⁰⁷ suggested his friend the aging and unaggressive Hamilton as a replacement for Sir John, the French changed their position and decided once again in favour of Sir John, to which Kitchener agreed. One should not be surprised that neither Joffre nor Poincaré, who were both at the meeting, mention this inauspicious volte-face in their published memoirs. Nor did Joffre mention that Foch, in an attempt to ingratiate Sir John and drive a wedge between him and Kitchener, told Wilson only part of the story; that is to say, Foch told Wilson that Kitchener wanted to replace Sir John with Hamilton at the conference but

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that the French came to Sir John’s rescue.¹⁰⁸ Irony of ironies – Sir John personally went to thank Foch for his support.¹⁰⁹ And as Wilson’s diary, which tells only that portion of the story leaked to him by Foch, is the key source for this event in English, no one had known any better for seventy years. It was only with the opening of the French diplomatic and military archives and, in particular, Poincaré’s diary that the true facts have come to light.¹¹⁰ This, of course, is not the end of the story. For the next three months Wilson, as described in the next chapter, intrigued with Sir John, Foch, and the French Command to have Sir Archibald Murray, Sir John’s lacklustre and francophobe chief of staff, replaced so that Wilson could take over his position.¹¹¹ The Anglo-French command crisis of October–November 94 is illustrative of the large role played by personality and circumstance in the relationship between commands when those relationships are not formally defined by previous arrangement. Evenly divided between the francophile personality of the horse-faced, iron tough, and intriguing Wilson and the cautious, francophobe, emotionally fragile and physically weakened Murray, Sir John had followed a zigzag course between aggressive and defensive attitudes throughout.¹¹² His own mercurial and temperamental nature was exaggerated by the cleavages within his staff. Nor had the French appraised his talents fairly. Divided between those who were moderately favourable to the British, such as Joffre, and those who loathed the British, such as the powerful deputy chief Berthelot, the French Command was blinded by its own view of the British as “slow and late” and unaggressive.¹¹³ The GQG ’s mistrust and fear that the British were preparing their retreat at Boulogne and Calais and its disappointment over the British failure to take Lille thus led Joffre to seek a new commander-in-chief for the BEF. While it may not always be true, as opined by General N.P. Mikhnevich, a late-nineteenth-century Russian theorist, that in a coalition “allies will strive to shift the heaviest burdens to other shoulders,”¹¹⁴ it is almost certain that they will lay on their allies the heavier blame for failed operations. Nor was French action in sowing discord between Sir John and Kitchener commendable. Sir John, “much fussed about K’s treachery,” sent Captain Frederick Guest, his aide-de-camp, to London “to know if he had the confidence of the gov[ernmen]t.”¹¹⁵ As Kitchener had acted without the knowledge or advice of the prime minister, Asquith was much taken

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aback by Guest’s report that Kitchener had offered to replace Sir John French with Hamilton at the Dunkirk meeting. Convinced that there was “not a word of truth, or even a shadow of foundation for the story,” whose origin he attributed to “that poisonous mischief maker Gen[eral] Wilson,” Asquith wrote Sir John a “very nice” letter and had Churchill do the same, assuring him of the government’s support.¹¹⁶ When Sir John apparently got wind of Joffre’s plan to have him removed, he was doubly upset with the French. “Au fond, they are a low lot,” he wrote to Kitchener, “and one always has to remember the class the French Generals mostly come from.”¹¹⁷ In conclusion, the lack of a well-defined command arrangement between the French and the British posed serious problems for the interoperability of the two forces when faced with the coordination of joint operations under the stress of battle. This had been evident from the beginning of the campaign: in the problems Sir John experienced with Lanrezac in the initial advance to Mons, the breakdown of cooperation during the Great Retreat, the conflict over the move north of the BEF, the melée involved with the juncture of Anglo-French and Belgian forces after the fall of Antwerp, and the mixing of units and forces during the Battle of Ypres. Military effectiveness thus suffered for want of coordination as Joffre resorted to a number of ploys to integrate British forces with French strategy. While his various expedients were successful in ensuring a modicum of cooperation on the field, they nearly always led to raw edges in command relations and acrimonious exchanges. The problem of Allied unity of command, in the final analysis, despite a formula for limited British subordination to Joffre worked out in the fall of 95, would not be resolved in a satisfactory way for more than three years, until the crisis of March 98 prompted Foch’s appointment as Allied commander-in-chief. The command crises during the Battle of Ypres was the second crisis in just over one month, following closely on the heels of the conflict over the defence of Antwerp. The broader implications of the situation were that as crisis followed crisis in the field, the British were drawn deeper and deeper into the war. Moreover, Kitchener believed that the war could not be won until massive British armies took to the field. But in the short term, he was obliged to play the French game, so far as British participation was concerned, not out of any love for the French but out of fear that the French would collapse without adequate support. Thus, on 

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September, Kitchener had adjusted his initial stance of limited commitment to continental defence by giving Sir John firm instructions to stand and fight with the French, and thereafter he sent all possible forces to France as they became available. The British 7th Division and 3rd Cavalry Division were committed to the Continent following the expedition to save Antwerp. At Dunkirk on  November, Kitchener still spoke pessimistically of a German invasion of Great Britain, for which he wished to retain the 8th Division in Britain.¹¹⁸ But learning after the Dunkirk conference that the 7th Division had been reduced to 5,000 effectives, he obtained cabinet approval for dispatch of the 8th Division, which he had earlier refused to send for want of adequate training.¹¹⁹ Because of the situation on the battlefield, the most urgent business before the conference had in fact been the question of reinforcements. To Kitchener’s request for reinforcements for Sir John’s hard-pressed force, the French promised to send an additional corps immediately and 200,000 regulars by 5 November.¹²⁰ While Kitchener acknowledged his inability to do much immediately – to send a mere eleven battalions of select territorials, bringing the total to nineteen¹²¹ – he announced, as Foch recorded, “a magnificent English Army of a million men for July , 95.”¹²² “We do not ask for so much but we would like it sooner and without delay,” Foch retorted,¹²³ not yet having fully appreciated that the war would be long and painful. The French had reason for considerable satisfaction. Acting on his own, and without the prior approval of the British government, Kitchener may not have fully expressed the views of his government. That his promise to the French was in harmony with cabinet policy at that moment, however, is demonstrated by Churchill’s draft of a message on 7 September for the mass recruiting meeting in Acton: “We must win this war,” he wrote, “but the only sure way is to send Sir John French an army of at least a million men, and to maintain it at full strength in spite of losses.”¹²⁴ Until the strategic re-evaluation that took place at the end of the year, both leaders expressed what was then the reigning assumption about the ultimate location for the New Armies that were being formed. The French thus had the pledge of the most powerful military figure in Great Britain, if not that of the British government. This was indeed the most significant development of the conference. Thus, as the Battle of Ypres drew to a close in mid-November and the Western Front settled down to deadly trench warfare with its unprecedented losses, the British found themselves more fully committed to

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the continental slugging match, which was to prove the most costly war in their history. The appointment of Douglas Haig to replace Sir John French as commander-in-chief of the British Expeditionary Force in December 95 (without French connivance) when Sir John, whose support had already waned, failed to bring up the reserves with sufficient alacrity in the fall offensive, dealt the final deadly blow to the British concept of limited war.¹²⁵ French grand strategy was based on obtaining a maximum return from France’s allies, the Russians in particular, whose pressure on the Germans was a key French consideration. So far as the British were concerned, this strategy had begun to bear considerable fruit. In the broader perspective, the French Command, whether by encasing the British with “aggressive” French troops, by using the diplomatic channel to force the British to fight harder, or by intriguing to have its own nominees in command positions, was single-minded in the pursuit of one specific strategic aim: to have the greatest possible British participation, but always under French control. In political terms, the French staff’s ultimate goal, in harmony with the policy of its government, was to drag the British farther and farther into the war, until victory was their only possible exit. In this they were singularly successful. To the extent that the French understood that the British, once committed, would never withdraw until they had gone on to victory, their appraisal of British statecraft and psychology was in fact correct. From the political point of view, the French efforts during the crisis-ridden first three months of the campaign to drag the British fully into the war were a complete success. But what the French failed to realize was that long-term interest might not guarantee permanent British support after the war and that intrigue against such people as Sir John French would foster poor interallied relations in the long run. The British garnered further substance for their unflattering view of the French as unreliable politically and tended to see in every French military request the hidden demands of French politics. At Dunkirk, Kitchener reported the very low munition reserves of the British force – “currently 00 rounds per piece,” recorded Poincaré, “but England only produces 20,000 rounds per week for about 480 pieces.” Kitchener therefore asked the French for the loan of some guns, and Millerand obligingly complied with the offer of 300 outdated but serviceable French 90-millimetre guns with 200 rounds of ammunition each.¹²⁶ Despite a much superior industrial capacity, Great Britain thus met its

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short-term needs, pending fuller economic mobilization, by borrowing from the French. The French guns were not given back until the beginning of 96.¹²⁷ The French ministerial tour of the north included a visit to King Albert and the Belgian Command at Furnes on 2 November. Foch’s brusque appeal to the Belgian king to hold the line on 24 October had apparently offended him.¹²⁸ For a short while thereafter, the Belgians by-passed Foch and communicated directly with Joffre. “The Belgians are sensitive and take counsel with difficulty, even when it is a question of lifting their morale,” wrote Berthelot on 28 October.¹²⁹ Joffre therefore took the occasion to promote better relations between Foch and King Albert. “Severe toward the Belgian Army,” Joffre considered its commander, King Albert, a “poor man,” “mediocre and weak,” because of his discouragement and his recent desire to retreat to St Omer.¹³⁰ This, of course, was not a fair assessment. The visit of the French ministers and Joffre to Furnes was nonetheless accompanied by all the niceties of diplomatic and military usage on both sides and resulted in the reinstatement of Foch “as delegate of the Commander-inChief to assure the coordination of operations between Belgian, English and French Armies in the north.”¹³¹ As in his dealings with the English, Joffre found that with the Belgians two lines of communication provided greater flexibility and indeed the opportunity for greater French control. Joffre thus returned from the north “satisfied with what he saw and heard.”¹³² Well he might, for Foch was obtaining the utmost participation from the BEF ; and Kitchener, in response to the military crisis, had promised his New Armies for the next summer. GQG had in fact already come to the conclusion that the decisive stage of the operation was over, that the enemy would soon break off the attack and might even be obliged to retreat to a more defensible line. This illusory expectation, sustained by Foch as late as 5 November, was based on the hope that a major Russian offensive on the Vistula would divert a large number of German forces to the east.¹³³

The Question of Reliefs, 4–2 November 94 Both armies were sorely tried by the German drive to the sea around Ypres. By the time the Battle of Ypres ended on  November and open warfare had given way to a continuous line of trenches from the Alps

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to the North Sea, new and important issues had arisen, not the least of which was who should carry, and in what measure, the costly and unwelcome task of occupying the trenches. GQG ’s assessment of the general situation, and in particular the anticipated result of the Russian offensive, had a significant bearing on French attitudes toward relief of the British during the rest of the battle, Joffre having loudly declared at the dinner table on  November, that the German offensive could not go on for more than two or three days.¹³⁴ French resources had now become strained as well. Joffre, therefore, was not prepared, once the initial crisis had passed, to commit French forces, freed by the thinning of the line elsewhere, to relieve the “tired” British, whose calls for help were seriously resented. Assuming that the German drive on Calais had been frustrated, yet being unable to mount an immediate counteroffensive, he wished to husband French forces for later offensive action.¹³⁵ The French Command was therefore surprised when the German offensive around Ypres resumed with great violence on 5 November and continued for another week. A new French corps (XX) and a division (th) were sent as reinforcements upon Foch’s request, but he was instructed to use his forces sparingly and on 9 November was advised, with little regard for the situation on the battlefield, to gather his cavalry for transfer south.¹³⁶ Only on 0 November, when Foch “let fall a word of weariness” and spoke of “breaking off the fight at any price” and when the British again spoke of retreating, did GQG realize the seriousness of the situation. Thereupon, the equivalent of three divisions were gathered up from small units in reserve from the armies all along the French line to be sent north as reinforcements.¹³⁷ That no large units were immediately available would suggest that the French also were at the end of their strength. In these circumstances, Sir John had little success in his attempt to have the French take up more of his line. On 4 November, returning to his demands of 3 October, he again pressed Foch to take over the line of the weary British I Corps.¹³⁸ But Foch, who had just been refused further reinforcements by GQG , was less generous than he might otherwise have been.¹³⁹ All he would promise was that French forces would be earmarked for British support.¹⁴⁰ By this tactic, Foch calculated, the British would be kept fully engaged, but the danger of an enemy breakthrough would be averted.¹⁴¹

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The British were not satisfied, however. Having been refused the relief of his I Corps, Sir John sent a note to Joffre the next day urging “the necessity for re-collecting his forces [and] having a shorter line.” Both the st and 7th Divisions were down to the very low level of 6,000 men, noted Sidney Clive, the British liaison officer at GQG , but Sir John was not willing to send in reinforcements to bring them up to strength in men because of the lack of sufficient officers.¹⁴² British demands had little impact on the French. In fact, the British were asked to assume a greater portion of the line during the ensuing combat. On 7 November, French reinforcements were sent from d’Urbal’s Détachement de l’Armée de Belgigue (later named the Eighth Army) to shore up the British I Corps, which was “a good deal pressed” around Hollebecke. At the same time, however, Foch requested that the British extend their right to the La Bassée Canal in order to free four French battalions and three batteries required to prop up the hard-pressed XXXIII Corps of the Tenth Army. This request was rejected by Sir John, “as his troops,” he said, were “already exhausted by holding a line too long for their strength.”¹⁴³ On 0 November, the situation on the battlefield worsened. Foch, this time anxious for his IX Corps, asked for British cavalry (under Allenby) to relieve French cavalry (under Conneau), so that the latter could shore up the IX Corps. Sir John first agreed, but a false report that St Eloi had fallen and “Murray’s constant crabbing of the French upset Sir John,” who then reneged on his promise. Later, under Wilson’s influence, he gave the required support. “Murray’s influence is v[ery] bad,” noted Wilson,¹⁴⁴ foreshadowing a new crisis brewing at British Headquarters. On  November, the crisis broke. “This morning,” wrote Wilson, “owing to pessimistic reports from Haig & owing to Murray’s evil influence, Sir John was in tantrums with the French and threatened to retire.”¹⁴⁵ Although Wilson managed to dissuade Sir John from retreating,¹⁴⁶ his anger toward Joffre for failing to provide adequate reinforcements was conveyed to GQG . “Sir John is anxious that our line should be shortened to 20 miles [and] says Gen. Joffre has no right to leave us so weak,” wrote Clive, who happened to be on a mission to British Headquarters that day. “H[enry] W[ilson] tells me that if the Germans continue to attack and reinforce their troops, we must either shorten our line (by retiring) or be reinforced … It is not so much a question of having no nerves, but our men are so tired.”¹⁴⁷

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Faced with the possibility of British retreat, the French finally responded. “The British demand a rest,” wrote Berthelot grudgingly on 0 November, “although the English Army just received 2 fresh battalions and 9,000 additional men”¹⁴⁸ – not appreciating Sir John’s unwillingness to engage his territorials for want of trained officers. The equivalent of three French divisions, as indicated, were nonetheless gathered up by Joffre from his several armies as reinforcements. The French, too, were scraping the bottom of the barrel. These reinforcements allayed immediate British fears¹⁴⁹ until the battle ended on 2 November. The question of shortening the British line nonetheless remained the subject of acrimonious dispute for some time to come,¹⁵⁰ foreshadowing one of the major sources of friction during the period of trench warfare. A new French intrigue to obtain more favourable British personnel further exacerbated Anglo-French military relations.¹⁵¹ The exchange of decorations during King George V’s visit to St Omer on 2 December was thus very felicitous.¹⁵² While there had been many instances of Allied solidarity on the battlefield, Anglo-French military relations had become very acrid during the defence of Antwerp and the Race to the Sea and were in need of a great deal of sweetening. During the first Battle of Ypres, the British fought hard and bled much. Their losses reported at the time from the beginning of their advance on 4 October to the end of November were 52,000, bringing total British losses since the beginning of the campaign to 86,000,¹⁵³ out of a force of not more than 220,000. These enormous losses, most of which were incurred at Ypres, spelled the end of the old professional army. Essentially thereafter the British army would consist disproportionately of new forces, lacking the professionalism of the men who had gone to France in August 94.¹⁵⁴ In a general way, Joffre was satisfied with the British performance at Ypres. On 3 November, as the battle drew to a close, “he was plainly pleased with the stubbornness of the British and the French” in the north, Clive reported, and said that “he was ‘happy.’”¹⁵⁵ Joffre’s special admiration was reserved for Foch, however, whom he credited with having obtained these favourable results from the British. Foch, he told Herbillon, “demonstrates absolute confidence and an equal tenacity,” “galvanizes our troops and imposes [our will] on the English, who, moreover, show an admirable power of resistance.”¹⁵⁶ He might have added that Foch had obtained this result only by reinforcing the British in crisis

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rather than by relieving their hard-pressed forces. But Joffre’s satisfaction at the British performance was not sufficient to prevent him from seeking further adjustments in the British Command in the meantime, which would provide for even greater British participation. Foch, for his part, later praised the solidarity between commands that had allowed for the equivalent of ten Allied corps (cavalry excluded) to stand up to the equivalent of fourteen German corps. This was indeed a remarkable achievement, for which he deserved much credit. His growing control over Sir John, however, was based not only on remarkable leadership and military solidarity but at least in part – to a greater extent than he and his apologists cared to admit – on subterfuge and intrigue.¹⁵⁷ While praising the extreme tenacity of the British I Corps, Foch could not refrain, in his retrospective analysis, from refuting the view that the victory was essentially British. Of the forty-five kilometres of the active front, the British, who held twenty-five kilometres on 3 October, held only fifteen by 5 November, he wrote, and the French held the remaining thirty kilometres. This was an accurate report, but the forces engaged in the Ypres salient were more equally divided than he indicated, the French having engaged four army corps, two cavalry corps, and two territorial divisions, while the British had engaged three corps (not two corps as he stated) and equivalent cavalry.¹⁵⁸ The fighting at Ypres was in fact more or less equal, the British bearing the brunt of the fighting initially, the French coming to the rescue at the end. The 94 campaign season ended in a draw. The Germans had been foiled in their drive on Calais, and their plan to beat the Allies before turning against the Russians had failed.¹⁵⁹ But the Allied victory on the Western Front was defensive, resulting in stalemate, for the Germans still remained in France and the lines had been drawn up in a new kind of stationary positional warfare. To smash through these lines would be the burden of the next four years. Under the impact of crisis, however, the French now had acquired from Kitchener the assurance of a total military commitment for the forthcoming struggle. But as the events of 95 would show, the commitment was tenuous and would soon be undermined by consideration of politically more effective and less costly warfare on the periphery.

Ch a pter eight

End of an Era

The Battle of Ypres marked the end of the “War of Movement” on the Western Front. Each side having failed to outflank the other in the Race to the Sea, manoeuvres in the field gave way during this battle to “entrenchments, barbed wire,” and “bullets from automatic weapons,” accompanied by unprecedented loss of life.¹ As the lines of trenches stabilized from the Alps to the North Sea in mid-November, the Allies gradually began to realize that the short war of manoeuvre, for which all the belligerents had prepared, had resulted not in victory but in deadlock, and that the war would be long and costly, involving all the resources of the state. Adapting to the changed conditions would thus be the major challenge of the next three and a half years, for the deadlock on the Western Front would not be broken, despite the increased size of the attacks, until the German offensive in the spring of 98. In both countries the seeming failure of initial grand strategy in the first campaign season of the war raised the question of whether or not a new strategy should be sought that would take advantage of the diplomatic situation in the Balkans and draw enemy forces to that theatre. Certain members of the French government such as Poincaré, Viviani, and Aristide Briand, the minister of justice, favoured a peripheral strategy, while Joffre and the French staff, buttressed by Millerand, stood by the initial formulation of a multifront war fought in conjunction with the Russians and other allies. By its espousal of a plan in early January to send an army to Salonika in support of the Serbs, the Cabinet chal-

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lenged Joffre’s exclusive control over French strategy. The result was a long and difficult political-military struggle between the “easterners” in the Cabinet and the High Command, which would mark 95 and continue through the rest of the war.² The general situation, from the British point of view, had been profoundly altered by events that occurred during the last two months of 94. The entry of Turkey into the war at the beginning of November posed special problems to the British for the defence of Egypt³ and made the quest for new allies in the Balkans imperative.⁴ On the other hand, the Battle of the Falklands on 8 December, which resulted in the destruction of Admiral von Spee’s cruiser squadron, cleared the outer seas of German warships, giving the British full liberty of action for the use of British sea power to open secondary theatres outside France. Although the Balkan situation was much more complicated than the British government perceived, the Cabinet continued to hope to find some “territorial formula which would bring Bulgaria and Rumania into the fighting line alongside Serbia and Greece.”⁵ A military expedition there might well be decisive. On the other hand, the loss of Lodz by the Russians in early December indicated that the “Russian steamroller” had been brought to a halt while still in Russian Poland, and led Kitchener to ponder the likelihood of a German offensive in France.⁶ The first months of the war had shown serious weakness in AngloFrench cooperation and coordination, and pointed out the need for both institutional adaptation and change of some personnel. The last weeks of 94 therefore marked a new period, characterized in both countries not by the glorious return of the troops but by readjustments in the politicalmilitary structure hastened by recent experience and, most importantly, by the Allied quest for a grand strategy adapted to the changed conditions of the war.

Adjustments in the Political-Military Structure The failure of the French Command to obtain decisive results during the War of Movement caused much surprise and disappointment to the citizens and government of France. The French Cabinet, somewhat tarnished by its earlier flight to Bordeaux, returned to the capital on  December. Faced with new problems of purchase and supply associated with the mass industrial warfare created by the advent of trench warfare and stalemate,

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the government assumed a more aggressive role in the administration of the war effort. The parlement, too, many of whose members had just returned from the front, was in a testy mood. After a patriotic session on 22 December, the Chamber of Deputies, in view of the unhappy prospect of a long war, began to regret the vast powers conferred on the Cabinet and commander-in-chief and to reassert its traditional role. As the Victor of the Marne, Joffre was still too popular for a direct attack on him to be made. Moreover, the Chamber had agreed not to play into the hands of the enemy by direct interpellation of the government. Discontent with the government and High Command was therefore channelled into the army commissions of the Chamber and Senate, which took up much of the role of parliamentary review normally reserved for the parlement. In early 95 these two agencies reasserted their traditional right to inquire into the War Ministry’s handling of supply and matériel. In the course of 95, despite Millerand’s attempt to thwart their activities and shield the High Command from “civilian interference,” parliamentary inspection was extended to the army zone under Joffre’s control. Although Joffre still enjoyed vast prestige and authority, the period of unchallenged military authority had drawn to a close, succeeded by a long period of intense civil-military conflict in which the Chamber, in the absence of victories in the field, would eventually acquire renewed authority over both government and command.⁷ After the failed 95 spring offensive, Joffre’s leadership – already under attack in the parliamentary commissions – was the subject of a move by a coterie of Radical Socialists in the Chamber to have him replaced. While his position was still unassailable, the government, at the urging of Poincaré, who considered Joffre abusive of his authority and unwilling to take advice, imposed on the commander-in-chief regular consultations with his army group commanders.⁸ In Great Britain, the machinery of wartime government was also adjusted to develop new plans to meet the “new situation arising out of the growing stalemate on the western front and the intervention of Turkey as a belligerent.”⁹ A number of ill-coordinated diplomatic and military initiatives associated with Turkey’s entry into the war convinced Asquith that the existing cabinet system, with its lack of systemized contact between armed services, lack of professional advice, and lack of overall direction, was no longer adequate. He thus set up a special cabinet committee, the War Council, superseding the Committee of Imperial Defence, for the

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overall direction of the war. The new body, concerned with the longterm problems of British strategy rather than the day-to-day conduct of the war, consisted initially of Asquith, Kitchener, Churchill, Grey, Lloyd George (chancellor of the exchequer), James Wolfe-Murray (chief of the Imperial General Staff), Sir John Fisher (first sea lord), and Arthur Balfour, a prominent member of the opposition, with the “indispensable” Hankey as secretary.¹⁰ The growing interest and involvement of Lloyd George in military matters was a portentous development. However, the War Council, which met for the first time on 25 November 94, changed little in the British power structure. Kitchener and Churchill still remained dominant in the formulation of British strategy, which, though responding to the needs of the French and Russian allies, strove to maintain Britain’s independent role. The advice of the services was not always solicited or accepted, as witnessed by the disastrous naval operation in the Dardanelles. Although the War Council, sometimes expanded to include the commander of the BEF, provided an organ for the systematic formulation of policy, it proved largely ineffective because of its ever-increasing numbers, lack of authority (except as delegated by the Cabinet), and lack of regularized meetings and agenda. It nevertheless marked a first step toward a more effective conduct of the war at the cabinet level, which culminated in the powerful War Cabinet under Lloyd George at the end of 96.¹¹

Readjustments in the French Command Significant changes were also made in the personnel of the French Command at the close of the War of Movement. Berthelot, the most hearty of anglophobes, was dismissed as assistant chief of staff on 22 November and given the command of a corps.¹² His removal from GQG represented a victory for Gamelin and the Third Bureau, whose preference for a flank manoeuvre had repeatedly come into conflict with Berthelot’s strategy of assault on the “inner” wing. The Third Bureau, having acquired the right to advise the commander-in-chief directly, had indeed demonstrated the value of its strategy on the Marne. Its opponent thus became the subject of a reassignment to the field.¹³ One of Berthelot’s last official acts was, on 7 November, to vent his spleen on the British. In response to their renewed request for relief of an extra thousand yards of trenches, he complained – echoing Foch’s earlier

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criticism – that the British did not understand that “war is not played as a sport” and that the British government had failed to send the “numerous divisions ready” on British soil. “Will we soon have to be on guard against them?” he queried.¹⁴ The concept of perfidious Albion, expressed by Arthus de la Panouse at the outset of the war, was thus still very much alive in his mind. In effect, the prejudices and stereotypes that pervaded anti-British sentiment before the war had remained largely intact during the first three months of combat. Suspicion and mistrust of British intentions remained a major impediment to effective cooperation in the field. Since the beginning of the campaign, Berthelot had played a significant role in militating against the British. He now had a new and more justifiable complaint, to which Cambon had given voice during the Battle of the Marne. The British, in their press accounts, he complained, played up British and Belgian successes and downplayed the French contribution. “Bravo for the English, bravo for the Belgians; the French do not exist and no one speaks of them!” wrote Berthelot. A week earlier he had complained loudly along the same lines to Yarde Buller, the British government’s emissary at GQG .¹⁵ Failure to receive due coverage in the British press was especially galling to the French, with their proud military tradition. But the situation was never fully corrected, with the result that many of the British at the end of the war would firmly believe “that the British Army” had “won the war in France,”¹⁶ a tradition still perpetuated in the literature. Under Berthelot’s influence, GQG had sternly lectured Foch on the inadvisability of giving the British satisfaction in their renewed demands for relief, and French reinforcements to the northern sector had been temporarily withheld.¹⁷ But Joffre had taken a more conciliatory attitude toward the British, and contrary to the advice of his assistant chief, decided to give way on this minor point.¹⁸ Berthelot’s departure thus removed a serious irritant in command relations and paved the way for a somewhat more accommodating attitude at GQG . His replacement was General Maurice Pellé, who was known for his skill as a military diplomat. General Nudant, who succeeded Pellé as the other assistant chief of staff, also “looked a first rate man” to Sidney Clive, the British liaison officer at GQG . In common with others at GQG , Nudant respected the British army for its defensive ability but had serious doubts about its offensive capacity, preferring to retain that role for the French army.¹⁹

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While the image of the British as slow, late, and unaggressive had had a significant impact on Allied command relations during the War of Movement, it would have an even greater impact during the long period of stalemate and trench warfare that followed. Regarding the British as unsuited for offensive action, partly because of their failure to coordinate their actions closely with the French, the French would repeatedly attempt to have them hold more and more of the trenches in order to free French forces for offensive action.²⁰ The British, however, were anxious to avoid the attrition of the trenches and were as avid as the French for the success of offensive action. The allocation of the trenches would thus remain a basic issue throughout much of 95 and 96; exacerbated when the major battles were being planned, it would finally come to a head under Robert Nivelle in the spring of 97.²¹

Wilson’s Intrigue and Changes in the British Command The British field command, like the French High Command, underwent significant adjustments at the end of the 94 campaign season. The events leading to Murray’s recall as chief of the General Staff at British Headquarters were to prove a painful chapter in Anglo-French political military relations, a story not fully recounted heretofore, which demonstrated the seamier side of the alliance. The affair, which occupied the attention of both governments and commands over a period of two and a half months, centred on Wilson’s intrigue with both Sir John and the French for the post of his less than competent superior. The French Command, as shown by their earlier attempt to get rid of Sir John, were convinced of the need for a more aggressive approach at British Headquarters. Having failed at Dunkirk on  November in their bid to have Wilson take over as the commander-in-chief, they now attempted to have him installed as chief of the General Staff in place of the unaggressive Murray, whom GQG had come to regard as the main source of British caution.²² The French Command thus gave full support to Wilson’s quest for advancement. Wilson chose his timing rather badly. As noted in chapter 7, the failure of the French to provide reinforcements on  November for the hardpressed British force had led Sir John French to threaten to retreat from

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the line, which would have imperilled the entire front. But Wilson attributed Sir John’s “tantrums with the French” to “Murray’s evil influence” and “pessimistic reports from Haig.”²³ It will be recalled that on 29 October, when Wilson had criticized Murray’s cautious approach during the Battle of Ypres, Sir John had promised him that he would replace Murray. Impatient that Sir John had not acted on that promise, Wilson took the occasion to apprise Foch of Sir John’s former discontent with Murray.²⁴ The French response was dramatic. Foch at once moved to have Murray replaced by Wilson by bringing the matter to Joffre’s attention, and Joffre, only too willing to take up the cause, asked the French government on  November “to intervene with regard to the English Staff.”²⁵ The intrigue was rather transparent, nevertheless, as Joffre’s note to Millerand disclosed confidences that only Wilson could have provided – that Sir John wished “to replace Murrey [sic] with Wilson” but did “not dare ask.” Joffre believed “that representation by Mr. Cambon to Mr. Asquith or Sir Arthur Nicolson [sic], as follow-up to the Dunkirk conversations,” would obtain the desired result. “General Murrey,” he suggested, could be given a post in Britain for “the organization of new forces, which he could later command.”²⁶ Cambon, however, rather than dealing with Asquith or Nicholson, who were not privy to Kitchener’s earlier offer to replace Sir John French, instead spoke “confidentially with Lord Kitchener” on the subject. And Kitchener, not fooled by Wilson’s intrigue, expressed his amazement that Sir John, who had already replaced “eight officers of which some [were] general officers that he had himself requested,” would not have replaced Murray if he really wanted to.” “I leave General [Marshal] French absolutely free,” Kitchener added with some cant.²⁷ Sir John, for his part, was not about to bow to the French demands. When advised by Kitchener of the French démarche on 3 November, he was “rather disturbed” by this “fresh evidence of some infernal intriguing” and denounced French interference in his command. “Had I any reason to find fault with Murray, I should have told you at once,” Sir John replied.²⁸ The French, he said, whom he blamed for the intrigue rather than Wilson, were prone to “run cunning” and would profit from the appointment of their “own choices in responsible positions.”²⁹ The Wilson-Murray intrigue remained quiescent for a month while both sides did some serious fence-mending. On 2 December, the day after King George V was ceremoniously received by Poincaré, Viviani,

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and Joffre on his visit to the front, the British king threw oil on troubled waters by decorating all of Foch’s commanders – d’Urbal, Maud’huy, Conneau, Mitry, Grossetti, and Maistre – and invested Foch with a KCB (Knight Commander of the Order of Bath). Hurt feelings were thereby salved and a sense of solidarity fostered at both the political and military levels of the coalition.³⁰ But the futile Anglo-French offensive at Warneton and Messines in Flanders between 4 and 20 December reopened the command issue at British Headquarters. The attack “miscarried,” principally because of bad coordination and a half-hearted effort on both sides.³¹ But Wilson, predictably, placed the entire blame for the failure on Murray. Criticizing Murray’s orders on the fifteenth, he spoke on successive days with Sir John, who then decided “that he must get rid of Murray” and appoint Wilson in his place as chief of staff.³² Sir John sent his personal secretary, William Lambton, to London on 7 December to discuss this “very confidential subject” with Kitchener, promising, in light of the government’s interest in the matter, to defer any action until Kitchener’s views were known.³³ When the BEF was reorganized into two armies, Murray could be given command of an army corps.³⁴ The proposed army reorganization was acceptable to the government. But the request for Wilson’s elevation created a substantial stir. While Kitchener was hostile to the appointment but might give in, Lambton reported, Asquith requested that Sir John return home at once for a discussion of the matter, which he did. At Walmer Castle on 20 December, both Kitchener and Asquith spoke out against Wilson’s appointment. “The Govt & K. were very hostile to me,” Wilson learned from Sir John. “They said my appointment would be very repugnant to the Cabinet & would shake confidence in the Army! That I was the principal cause of all the Ulster troubles & was therefore dangerous.”³⁵ Sir John was thus persuaded to retain Murray, who now seemed more firmly anchored than ever. To prevent further quarrelling, Murray was merely asked to leave the staff mess and “keep rather aloof from the Staff as behooved his position as the Chief of Staff.”³⁶ Meantime, the French Command grew increasingly irate at British performance in the abortive December offensive in Flanders. The “despairing reserve” in British attacks on 5 and 6 December, Foch attributed to “certain subordinates,” an obvious reference to Murray.³⁷ On 2 December, Foch advised his chief, who by now was ready to take up the matter

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with either Sir John or the British government, that Sir John himself had left for London to ask for Murray’s recall.³⁸ Joffre was not deterred – even though three British corps were engaged in the offensive, albeit in a limited way, before it was finally abandoned by the French on 20 December because of mud and bad weather.³⁹ Convinced that Murray’s recall would result in greater British participation in future attacks, Joffre was prepared to seek his replacement, whatever the political implications. Thus, on 26 December, when Cambon returned to Paris to urge on Joffre the British proposal that the BEF assume the “extreme left and take the offensive along the coast,” Joffre complained “that some time ago he did not receive the support he expected from British troops in carrying out an enveloping movement”⁴⁰ – an obvious reference to the British failure to march on Lille. This lack of support Joffre now attributed not to “any unwillingness on the part of Sir John French but [to] want of energy on the part of his Chief of Staff, Sir Archibald Murray.” “Joffre has no confidence in him and feels that so long as he remains Chief of Staff, there will be no proper cooperation between British and French forces,” Cambon explained to his British counterpart in Paris.⁴¹ In the event that the rumour of Wilson’s appointment then circulating should be true, added Cambon quickly, this would be quite acceptable to the French.⁴² Joffre, for his own reasons, thus gave his full support to Wilson’s intrigue for personal advancement. Asquith, recognizing the intrigue for what it was, was nevertheless concerned that Murray had “lost Joffre’s confidence.”⁴³ With Asquith’s approval, Kitchener therefore responded to the French complaint by suggesting to Sir John that the quartermaster Sir William Robertson (Kitchener’s personal choice) be appointed in Murray’s stead, as Wilson was totally unacceptable to Asquith.⁴⁴ This suggestion put the lie on Kitchener’s refrain, oft repeated to Cambon and even to the King, that he left Sir John free to choose his own appointees for senior posts.⁴⁵ The French initiative backfired badly. When advised of the French démarche, Sir John became “very angry” at this renewed French interference in his command.⁴⁶ It was a time for airing old grievances. He attributed the French unhappiness with Murray to Murray’s criticism of the French for having left the British in the lurch at Mons and during the Great Retreat which, he said, was the real reason they “have determined to have his blood.” He was thus not prepared to give satisfaction, whatever

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the particular merits of the case. “I wish to keep him [Murray] where he is & I hope you’ll support me,” he wrote to Kitchener on 29 December.⁴⁷ If the British government was prepared to countenance French intervention, Sir John, on principle, frankly was not, nor was he prepared to yield to the desires of his government in the first instance. The matter escalated further when Delcassé, the French foreign minister, who thought it intolerable that Wilson should be ruled out for political reasons,⁴⁸ raised the issue on 3 December during his trip to London. “The French are very keen to get rid of [Murray] as chief of the Staff,” wrote Asquith. “They do not have any specific charge against him, except that he speaks poor French and is not sympathetic … Both K. and I think that Robertson is the right man to succeed him. Winston is for Haig, but it would be almost impossible to replace him where he is.”⁴⁹ Sir John’s retrenchment in the face of French interference gave the government the perfect answer to the French demands. “Marshal French would oppose any replacement of General Murray decided by Kitchener,” came the final word down the diplomatic channel to Joffre on 5 January 95.⁵⁰ The prevailing atmosphere of rumour and counter-rumour that further embroiled these sensitive communications led Joffre to inquire of Foch about the truth of this latter information. Accurately informed by Wilson, Foch responded with a very unflattering picture of Sir John. “In sum, it is the case of a weakling who shouts for help in distress,” Foch reported, but “resents when you help him, saying you are meddling in his business.”⁵¹ Neither Kitchener nor Asquith “would hear at any price of Wilson” replacing Murray, he reported. Moreover, the matter had seriously agitated Sir John, whose constant refrain had now become “Let them mind their own business and let me mind mine.” In Foch’s view, Sir John’s confidence in Wilson and the limited powers given to Murray provided a situation at least partially acceptable to the French. French interest therefore would be best served by letting the matter drop.⁵² The whole question had indeed become a very touchy and disruptive issue in Anglo-French military relations! Joffre decided to follow Foch’s advice. “Although Murray seems to have consolidated his position, he has lost all influence,” wrote Joffre to Millerand, “which is the most important thing for us, and things may remain as they are for the moment, because we cannot obtain more.”⁵³ The phrase “because we cannot obtain more,” added to the minute in

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Joffre’s hand, reveals the substance of his policy toward the British. From the outset, his aim had been to obtain maximum participation in the field from the British allies. In this, he had the full support of the French government, whose consistent long-term policy since the defeat of 87 had been to seek security through the effective application of alliances. That the approach of personnel adjustment had not worked in getting a more energetic stance from the British Command did not mean that Joffre had abandoned the goal. It merely meant that after so much agitation on the subject, some other tack would have to be tried. The French Command would thus press in early March and at the end of July 95 for a unified command with the British to ensure full cooperation between Allied forces on the Western Front.⁵⁴ At the same time, Joffre attempted in early July, by means of the first of a series of Allied conferences, to obtain a greater effort from the British in a launching new coordinated fall offensives.⁵⁵ While Joffre might change his tactic from time to time, he never lost sight of his goal of greater British participation. The French government nonetheless persisted, for the matter of Murray’s recall had become a diplomatic question that had not been resolved. On 22 January 95, Millerand on his trip to London again discussed the matter with Kitchener. The British government, Grey confided to Clive on 2 January, prior to Millerand’s visit, “were quite ready to accede to the wishes of the French, if a suitable man could be found.”⁵⁶ In Millerand’s presence, Kitchener assessed the possibilities. Wilson he considered “dangerous and impulsive,” having had him on his staff in South Africa. Admitting that Murray was “too slow” and therefore not acceptable, he went on to extol the merits of General Douglas Haig, who had now also become a candidate for the post.⁵⁷ But Sir John was now ready to act, having reasserted his independence of the French by refusing Murray’s recall and by his partial independence of Kitchener in delaying the appointment of the latter’s candidate, Robertson. An influenza epidemic, which affected several members of his staff on 20 January, provided the perfect excuse.⁵⁸ On 24 January, Sir John proposed Murray’s replacement by Sir William Robertson as chief of the General Staff, citing Murray’s health, which would limit his effectiveness for a month.⁵⁹ Of course, Kitchener and Asquith immediately telegraphed their approval. Robertson assumed the functions of office on 26 January.⁶⁰ The appointment would, in the long run, provide a sub-

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stantial element of stability and high-quality professional advice and expertise. The events leading to Robertson’s appointment illustrate all the difficulties of senior military appointments within a coalition. The British government, because of the need to cooperate with the French, apparently felt some need to give the French satisfaction with regard to Murray’s recall, but were not prepared to accede to Wilson’s intrigue for advancement. As second-in-command, the chief of staff held much power and influence and therefore had to be politically acceptable. Wilson had too many political liabilities and was therefore turned down, in spite of repeated French representations on his behalf. He had thus failed to turn the agitation to his advantage, despite the fertile opportunities for intrigue offered by the diffusion of power within the coalition. Moreover, this was a matter not only of Allied relations but of civilmilitary relations as well. While rejecting Wilson, Sir John’s favourite, the government was not prepared to impose its choice of Robertson on him at once; but on the other hand, it gave him very little leeway to choose anyone else. When Haig was finally suggested as an alternative, Sir John made his own decision, but within very narrow limits of discretion. Joffre’s attempt to obtain a more aggressive-minded British Command, beginning with his earlier request for Sir John’s recall, thus met with partial success. According to Joffre’s postwar statement, the recall of Murray was a great “relief” to the French Command.⁶¹ Robertson, moreover, in French eyes, was a “good choice in default of Wilson.”⁶² But Wilson, “returning from a five-day tour round the French positions,” was surprised to learn that he had not only failed in his bid to be chief of staff but had been replaced as subchief by Brigadier General E.M. Percival.⁶³ Wilson’s new position as chief liaison officer with the French drastically reduced his influence (contrary to Foch’s expectation).⁶⁴ In effect, Robertson, who had the full confidence of the generals in the field,⁶⁵ shut him out of power, denying him access to important documents, some of which were even sent to the French without his knowledge.⁶⁶ Unlike Wilson, who sought power by intrigue, Robertson wielded it through military competence and single-minded toughness, as the Cabinet would find out a year later when he became chief of the Imperial General Staff.⁶⁷ Wilson’s reduced position as chief liaison officer, moreover, put him into conflict with Clive, upon whose liaison roles his

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new function encroached.⁶⁸ Promotion to the rank of lieutenant-general thus proved to be cold comfort to the aspiring subchief,⁶⁹ whose great agitation had indeed come to naught. A new era had come in command relations. Although Sir John preferred Wilson socially and slighted the working-class Robertson, whom he even excluded from his mess, Robertson made no secret of his intention to exercise the full prerogatives of his office; and Sir John, despite attempts to assert his independence of the new chief of staff, found himself generally unable to resist his advice.⁷⁰ The vacillations of the British Command, divided between the tendencies of Murray and Wilson during the War of Movement, now came to an end as a result of the aggressiveness and toughness of the new man behind the throne. But Robertson was a devoted “westerner” and an advocate of offensive action. The advent of siege warfare thus played a miserable trick on the new unity of purpose, resulting in very heavy losses. Joffre, moreover, had apparently learned his lesson. While resorting to a number of other ploys as a means of obtaining greater British participation and greater control over the British army, Joffre made no further attempt to influence the choice of appointments to the British staff.⁷¹

French Strategic Response to the Changed Conditions of the War While the French Command has frequently been criticized for not having fully appreciated the full implications of trench warfare, a closer look at the record indicates a fairly energetic adaptation to the material requirements of the new kind of warfare.⁷² Foch, in particular, displayed a growing awareness of the new conditions immediately after the Battle of Ypres. “A large number of siege guns, with plenty of ammunition,” would be required to “break down obstacles” opposed to them, he wrote to the commander-in-chief on 9 November. “Our offensive has to be organized with a view to operations against fortified positions – in other words, siege warfare on a large scale.”⁷³ However, he was still unshaken in his belief that “to make war is to attack.”⁷⁴ The Germans, he argued, having been stalemated in the west, would withdraw troops in order to take the offensive in the east. He thus recommended renewed action in Flanders, an area where the trenches had not yet hardened, and which, because of their special interest there, would ensure the participation of

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the Belgians and the British.⁷⁵ Except for the recognized need for more artillery, no readjustment had yet been made in French tactical thinking in response to the advent of trench warfare.⁷⁶ Meantime, shortly after the Battle of Ypres, Joffre had begun to consider a renewed attack in view of information received on German troop movements to the east; as a result, on 20 November he instructed Foch to study the question.⁷⁷ Kitchener, moreover, began to press the French Command for an immediate attack to prevent further German troop movements to the Eastern Front.⁷⁸ In fact, Kitchener had become alarmed as early as 4 October lest the Germans contain the Russians in the east, break through to the Channel coast, and “attempt to land German troops in England” itself.⁷⁹ A strategic French attack in the west would divert German forces away from the Russians in the east. Joffre, of course, fully agreed with Kitchener’s plan. His operational strategy was dictated by the fact that the major part of the German army was on French soil and only five days’ march from the heart of France.⁸⁰ Within the context of his general appreciation of the strategic situation, his most consistent aim was to drive the Germans out. On  December, while up in the north to meet the King, Joffre thus had long and informal talks on the strategic situation with Sir John French. “Joffre … expects to have a considerable quantity of heavy artillery available in a week or two,” wrote Sir John to Kitchener, “and by that time we hope that German requirements in the Eastern theatre will have caused more withdrawals from our front in the West, and that we shall be thus enabled to batter down the enemy’s trenches and make a vigorous advance.”⁸¹ On 7 December, Foch presented the French plan to Sir John. A secondary British attack toward Warneton and Messines, aimed merely at straightening the line, would accompany similar French attacks north of Ypres. The French would launch the principal attacks in Artois and Champagne.⁸² Here, in essence, was the French battle plan for 95, but to be executed in the rain and mud of December. The French Command was right on the question of future German strategy, however. In view of the growing deadlock on the Western Front, Falkenhayn decided in early 95 to transfer seven infantry divisions and one cavalry division from the Western Front to the east in the hope of inflicting a crushing blow on the Russians in Poland. Although the German Command did not expect to knock the Russians out of the war, it hoped to win a victory “big enough to check the enemy for a long time.”

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To make the diversion possible, the Germans decided to act “purely on the defensive” on the Western Front “with the most careful application of every technical device,” further contributing to the growth of trench warfare “with all its horrors.”⁸³ In France as in Great Britain, powerful political leaders began a strategic review at the end of 94, based on the stalemate on the Western Front. By  January 95, Viviani, the French prime minister, Briand, minister of justice, and Poincaré, the president, largely at the instigation of Briand, had begun to consider alternatives to Joffre’s unsuccessful offensive in Champagne, which had begun on 20 December and was still underway. Viviani had no faith in the success of the ongoing Champagne attack. Coming to believe in a deadlock on the Western Front, he had become favourable to Briand’s plan of mounting, with the British, an army of 400,000–500,000 men to land in the Adriatic and at Salonika, to sustain the Croats and Slavs, and march on Budapest and Vienna. Viviani faulted Joffre for “lack of a plan” in his nibbling operations; Briand considered him “mediocre,” and even Poincaré thought him “short-sighted and close-minded.”⁸⁴ A dinner was thus arranged “with all the ministers” on 9 January, at which time Viviani and Briand presented the idea of the “diversion via Serbia.” Joffre “argued energetically against the plan,” declaring that he needed all his forces in France and that only on the Western Front could victory be had. With the ammunition crisis over, he would surely “break through the German front.” Moreover, he thought that supplying an army of even 00,000 via Salonika would be difficult. Both Viviani and Briand seemed convinced, and even Poincaré was impressed with Joffre’s calmness, though he maintained reservations about his optimism. Joffre also resisted a proposal for a second-line reserve army, saying he needed every available man on the front.⁸⁵ Joffre thus carried the Cabinet with him temporarily, and Millerand – the ever-willing mouthpiece of the French Command – would therefore advocate Joffre’s Western Front strategy in London, against the growing British tendency to consider diversion of British forces to secondary theatres. The advent of trench warfare had thus made little change in French grand strategy. In fact, gqg based much of its strategy in late 94 and early 95 around considerations of the Russian front. Major AngloFrench attacks in the spring of 95 were intended to take advantage of the numerical superiority on the Western Front because of the Central

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Powers’ assault on Russia, and to aid the Russians. At the same time, Joffre encouraged simultaneous action by all the allies – “Russians, Serbs and perhaps the Italians” should they come into the war.⁸⁶

British Strategic Reappraisal The British response to the growing stalemate on the Western Front was quite different from that of the French, reflecting fundamentally different political objectives. The balance between British imperial interests and defence and the need to maintain the continental balance struck at the core of the issue. As the next volume in this series will indicate, at least three distinct British strategies competed for acceptance at the end of the 94 campaign season. The first focused on freeing Belgium and the Channel ports. In midSeptember, the “blue water school,” as earlier described, had begun to reassert itself because of the danger to the Channel ports. Especially concerned, after the loss of Antwerp, with the danger of enemy submarine bases on the Channel, Churchill, while on a visit to British Headquarters on 7–8 December (and largely on his own initiative), pressed on Sir John the need to clear the Belgian coast by means of a combined military and naval attack. Unlike Wilson, whose sole concern was to march in step with the French, Sir John, demonstrating the traditional British concern for Antwerp, was easily convinced by the arguments of his old friend and agreed to support his plan for the BEF to take over the extreme left of the Allied line. Sir John would then cooperate with the fleet in an attack on Ostend and Zeebrugge, and his cavalry could be given full scope for an advance along the Belgian coast.⁸⁷ The government agreed with Churchill’s plan. In the unanimous opinion of the British government, stated a message to Joffre on 9 December, the most immediate and pressing strategic need was to free the vital Channel ports from German control and to remove the potential danger of German submarine bases just across the Channel.⁸⁸ The French Command had its own strategy, which Kitchener came to favour. Sir John had already agreed to the strategic goal of clearing the Channel ports with Churchill when, on 8 December, Foch asked him to attack Messines and Warneton, in line with Joffre’s strategy of renewed offensives against the German army on the jointly held Anglo-French front. Persuaded against his will by Wilson, Sir John expressed serious

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reservations, which were not well received by Foch. “Comme il aime pleurer ce Bébé” (How this baby likes to cry), Foch told Wilson, who rightly concluded that “Sir J. is not out for fighting & heavy losses.”⁸⁹ The reasons were entirely obvious in the circumstances. Joffre’s mid-December offensive, to which Sir John’s “hard-used little army,” as a result, “contributed little more than a half hearted demonstration,” failed to produce significant results.⁹⁰ The far-reaching consequences of that failure in terms of strategic reappraisal were not immediately apparent. On 22 December, at his meeting with Asquith and Kitchener at Walmer Castle, Sir John was still pressing the merits of moving to the Allied far left for an attack on the Belgian coast.⁹¹ Fully attuned to the needs of the Entente coalition, upon which British success ultimately rested, Kitchener had other concerns. Earlier he had been irritated by the whole coastal plan, which he rightly attributed to Churchill’s meddling in military policy and which led to a very considerable row between him and the First Lord of the Admiralty.⁹² The issue came to a head on 7 December when Churchill proposed to visit Sir John again at his headquarters to discuss the naval coordination of the proposed coastal operation.⁹³ Infuriated by what he considered Churchill’s meddling in his strategy, Kitchener offered to resign as secretary of state for war and have Churchill take his place.⁹⁴ Kitchener’s resignation was prevented only by Asquith restricting Churchill’s visit to the front, as “these meetings in K’s opinion [had] already produced friction between French & himself.”⁹⁵ Churchill was particularly incensed, for he had perceived his role as being that of easing relations between French and Kitchener,⁹⁶ but with some blustering he agreed to the restriction.⁹⁷ The great concern expressed by Kitchener at the Walmer Castle meeting, in the wake of the Russian loss of Lodz, was that the Germans, after a successful offensive in the east, would turn back on the Western Front. The Russians, he had learned on 8 December, were very short of munitions, and he feared that this might “result in the Russians going on the defensive, the Germans taking Warsaw, and subsequently transferring large forces” for an offensive on the Western Front, in which case he had “no confidence” that the Allied line could be held.⁹⁸ Sir John, however, considered such an attack extremely unlikely. But to be adequately prepared, it was finally resolved that Sir John would meet with Joffre to work out a suitable strategy for the Western Front.⁹⁹

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A week later, on 27 December, Sir John met with Joffre at Chantilly. Although Joffre considered the danger of a massive German assault on the Western Front “remote,” he claimed to have made adequate preparations for such an eventuality. His plan for the 95 campaign season was a major two-pronged attack, one in Artois and one around Rheims. To procure the desired breakthrough, the December offensive and some small attacks yet to take place were designed “to draw the attention of the Germans from the main points of attack.” The idea of Sir John taking up the extreme Allied left flank was agreed to in principle, but deferred. In the meantime, British forces would take over the portion of the line held by the French Eighth Army around Ypres “as fast as the successive reinforcements” would permit in order to allow the French to concentrate their forces for the decisive attack.¹⁰⁰ In the French calculation, the British would play a “defensive role better adapted to their capacities” in the less-decisive theatre north of the Lys.¹⁰¹ The whole plan for 95 thus appeared to have been amicably resolved along the lines of French offensive strategy, with little consideration being given for the changed conditions on the front. Churchill’s and Sir John French’s plan for a combined naval and military operation had been conveniently deferred, pending the major attacks projected by the French. Kitchener’s strategy, which placed the highest priority on sustaining Britain’s allies, thus came to dominate – at least for the time being. While Churchill and Kitchener were at loggerheads over the proper strategy for the Western Front, a new British strategy evolved that favoured the use of naval power to launch operations on external theatres. The December offensive, with its loss of 5,000 British soldiers and no appreciable gain, was the event that finally convinced leading members of the British Cabinet that the war on the Western Front had reached a stalemate and that the French offensive strategy under conditions of trench warfare was futile.¹⁰² A basic strategic re-evaluation then took place in Great Britain along the lines of the “blue water school” of thought, which challenged the basic assumption that the New Armies, when readied, would be sent to fight the war in France. The opportunities for striking on distant frontiers afforded by British sea power, unchallenged after 8 December 94, opened up new vistas for the employment of the New Armies along the lines of “traditional” strategy. The entry of Turkey into the war and the diplomatic situation in the Balkans seemed

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to confirm the merit of deploying British forces at some strategic point outside France in order to obtain new allies and perhaps, while defending Egypt from the Turks, renew communications with Russia through the Dardanelles straits.¹⁰³ The basic concern that led to the Dardanelles expedition was, in fact, as C.J. Lowe has so aptly pointed out, to “find some means of breaking the deadlock on the western front by employing British seapower” and “to knock out the weakest German ally, Turkey, and mop up all the Balkan neutrals by the sheer attraction of dazzling success.”¹⁰⁴ As research has shown, the Dardanelles venture was also intended in the eyes of Kitchener and Churchill, who planned to couple it with the seizure of Alexandretta, to enhance Britain’s postwar situation vis-à-vis its allies in the eastern Mediterranean.¹⁰⁵ On 29 December, Churchill and Hankey laid their views before the prime minister in memoranda “written quite independently but coming by different roads to very similar conclusions.” “Both think that the existing deadlock in West and East is likely to continue,” wrote Asquith. Both agreed on the need for “finding a new theatre for our new Armies” rather than sending them to France, where, in Churchill’s words, they will “chew barbed wire or be wasted in futile frontal assaults.”¹⁰⁶ Taking up Lord Fisher’s old proposal, Churchill, who had earlier suggested a combined naval and military attack on Gallipoli,¹⁰⁷ now favoured taking the Island of Borkum and then invading Schleswig-Holstein. Hankey, who in a far-sighted memorandum suggested the development of “a lot of new mechanical devices such as armed rollers to crush down barbed wire, bulletproof shields and armour,” favoured sending the New Armies to Turkey and “in conjunction with the Balkan states clear the Turks out of Europe.”¹⁰⁸ Lloyd George, who added his voice to this growing chorus in a memorandum on  January, argued the case for expeditions to Syria and to Salonika to join the Serbs (much as members of the French Cabinet were advocating) in order to “knock the props out” from under the Central Powers.¹⁰⁹ “Profoundly dissatisfied with the immediate prospect – an enormous waste of life and money day after day with no appreciable progress” – Asquith was very sympathetic to these proposals.¹¹⁰ Kitchener, moreover, although basing his entire strategy on the concept of a long war, was equally “baffled” by the “new kind of warfare which he did not understand.” “I don’t know what is to be done,” he told Grey. “This isn’t war.”¹¹¹ On 2 January, therefore, Kitchener addressed a letter to Sir John French in which he advanced the view that the chances

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of breaking the deadlock on the Western Front were very slight and suggested the study of other theatres for offensive action. Of these, he had no particular preference for the immediate future.¹¹² Once the Western Front was secure, other theatres of action, including those in defence of the empire, could, in the great imperialist’s view, trump unstinted support of the French. The pull of British global strategy would thus pit the British against the French, whose basic strategy, continental in nature, placed much more emphasis on the Russian alliance and the need to support their Russian ally against the armies of the Central Powers. Sir John was thus brought into the great debate between “easterners” and “westerners” which characterized 95; and which, after the bloodletting of 96 on the Western Front, became a significant issue again under Lloyd George, through to the end of the war. The struggles within the War Council that resulted in the ill-fated naval bombardment of Gallipoli and the later expedition are beyond the scope of this study. Suffice it to say that a new period in Allied relations had come, with all the problems in Allied command relations associated with the diversion to other fronts of the divisions originally promised to Sir John for relief of the French Eighth Army. British grand strategy would thus be in direct conflict with French strategy. In its quest for a suitable secondary theatre of war as a means of breaking the deadlock on the Western Front, the British government, despite some support from within the French Cabinet, would find itself in sharp conflict through much of 95 with Joffre and the British Command in France, whose main goal was to smash the German army on the Western Front.¹¹³

Conclusion The close of the 94 campaign season marked the end of an era. Mutations in both the French and British commands, particularly within the British Command, altered the nature of their functioning and had an important bearing on future command relations. Berthelot’s departure as the French assistant chief of staff would remove a hearty anglophobe, whose suspicions of the English were ever-present. The recall of the francophobe Murray as British chief of staff and the installation of the toughminded Robertson in his place would stabilize the British Command, compensating to some degree for the variableness of its chief, which had been exaggerated with near disastrous effect by the competing tenden-

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cies of the cautious Murray and the often reckless Wilson. Though Wilson’s role as coordinator with the French would still pose problems, it was much better suited to his capabilities as an effective intermediary. At the governmental level, both governments began to adjust to the demands of a long war. In France the parliament, through the parliamentary commissions, began to assert its rights and nibble away at the excessive powers of the commander-in-chief. In Great Britain the War Council, the first of several attempts to create institutions capable of managing the multiple dimensions for the new kind of war, was instituted in November 94. Though ineffective, it at least marked a beginning. While the above-mentioned changes were significant, they were not earth-shattering. The decisive change, so far as command relations were concerned, was the re-evaluation of French and British strategies at year’s end. Faced with the prospect of stalemate on the Western Front, key ministers in France came out in favour of a major expedition to Salonika, but Joffre was able to convince the assembled ministers of the folly of that proposal with the result that French strategy remained unaltered. The French Command would continue to plan its operations around considerations of operational success on the Western Front and coordination with it allies. In Great Britain the strategic re-evaluation was much more dramatic. The War of Movement had impelled ever-greater British commitment of men and resources to French defence, even to the extent of Kitchener promising his New Armies to the French for the summer of 95. But the advent of stalemate and attrition warfare at the end of the 94 campaign season led to a thorough re-evaluation of British strategy, more in line with long-term British interests and the prewar strategy of limited commitment to continental defence. Sir John French, with the support of Churchill, wished to undertake a major operation in Belgium to free the Channel ports and roll up the German flank. Under the need to sustain the continental allies, Kitchener was willing to sacrifice Sir John French’s coastal operation in favour of cooperation with French strategy, which in itself would cause problems in Allied command relations. But the British decision to pursue the Dardanelles campaign, which would entail a diversion of British resources from their intended employment in France, would create huge problems, not only between Joffre and Sir John French but between Joffre and the British government. For his part, Joffre, in harmony with the policy of his government, would seek to have

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all available British forces deployed in France and, by a variety of means, to obtain the greatest possible participation from British forces on the Western Front – always under French strategic control. Many of the problems in Anglo-French command relations in 95 would thus derive from the differing strategic imperatives of the two governments. On the other side of the coin, the ultimate solidarity of the two governments in 95, particularly in the British decision in June–July to send the New Armies to France and in Kitchener’s decision to oblige Sir John French to fight hard at Loos, would hold the alliance together and serve to assuage command relationships. The case for the primacy of policy as a factor in joint command relations thus appears to be well sustained.

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conclusion

Anglo-French command relations during the period of movement on the Western Front in 94 must be considered within the framework of the policy and grand strategy of each of the alliance partners. The wartime strategies of Great Britain and France, often competing in nature, grew out of their policies in the prewar period. The differing strategies of the Entente partners resulted in considerable conflict as the two field commanders attempted to implement them on the field of battle. From the British point of view, the British military contribution to the European war in 94 was only one component of British grand strategy for the defence of the British Empire. This strategy consisted of British naval dominance, “business as usual” to maintain an economy based on commerce and manufacturing, and the deployment of a token military force to the Continent. The British counted on the more powerful armies of their French and Russian allies to do the bulk of the fighting. Kitchener’s instruction to Sir John French, the commander of the British Expeditionary Force, demonstrated clearly that Britain’s commitment to the continental war was strictly limited. The British commander was instructed not to endanger the force by forward movements in which large bodies of French troops were not engaged, and advised that his command was entirely independent of the French. He was likewise advised of the line of retreat he should follow for his small force of four and a half infantry divisions and one cavalry division should the

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campaign in France go wrong. All of Sir John’s conduct of operations in the initial phase of the campaign must be seen in the general context of his application of these instructions. Only on  September did Kitchener give him firm instructions for closer cooperation with the French, as a result of unresolved issues in Sir John’s relationship with Joffre during the retreat from the frontiers. The incidence of British policy was again felt with regard to the relocation of the British Expeditionary Force to the north toward the end of September, when government and command both agreed that British interests would be better served by the BEF ’s relocation closer to the Channel ports. The whole Antwerp imbroglio, which compelled the immediate relocation of the BEF and raised the issue of a second British Command, was driven by the need of British policy to defend the vital Belgian stronghold of Antwerp. The clash of British grand strategy with French operational strategy over the defence of Antwerp reflected the differing political and strategic imperatives of the two countries. The second command crisis, which followed the British failure to take Lille, was linked to the initial French unwillingness to deploy the BEF in a vital sector of the French flanking movement. While Sir John French’s attitude varied between extreme optimism and pessimism, reflecting the situation on the battlefield and the cleavages within his staff, his relationship with the French must always be considered within the parameters of British policy as laid down by his government. British strategy had to be adapted. Under the pressures of the faltering campaign in France, Kitchener was obliged to increase Britain’s commitment to the continental war, urging closer cooperation with French operational planning on  September and sending all available reinforcements, to the extent of promising on  November, during the hot first Battle of Ypres, a million men – the entire New Army – for the summer of 95. The New Armies, once created, could not be denied the Continent, given the demands of the continental war and the relative weakness of Britain’s allies. On the French side, the policy since the early 890s, with the formation of the dual alliance with Russia, had been to obtain the maximum return from France’s allies in a future war against the Central Powers. The formation of the Entente cordiale with Great Britain in 904 and subsequent attempts to strengthen it were merely steps in the realization of this general policy. Joffre’s relationship with his British allies during the

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War of Movement was in strict conformity with this policy. Poincaré, the French president, attended conferences between Joffre and Kitchener on 5 October and  November to buttress the policy. Except for a brief period in regard to the ten-kilometre restriction as the war began, government and command were in complete harmony. All of Joffre’s ploys to obtain a greater British contribution were supported by his government and must be seen within the context of French alliance diplomacy and grand strategy. The list of means that Joffre used to extract more from the reluctant British is long. On several occasions operational plans were adjusted. Just as the French government had adjusted to British needs in 92 by forbidding a pre-emptive march across Belgium and imposing the tenkilometre restriction at the beginning of August 94, Joffre showed a considerable flexibility in adjusting his plans to obtain maximum British support. In early August, he delayed his left-wing attack several days to allow for British participation in the initial campaign of the war. The Battle of Guise on 29 August was conceived as a means of slowing the German advance and taking pressure off the hard-pressed British after the British drubbing at Le Cateau. The Battle of the Marne was planned around considerations of British participation. And the move of the BEF from the Aisne to the north was intended to get a greater rendement from the greatly increased forces of the BEF. Other means were employed to ensure maximum British participation in harmony with French strategy and operational planning. Aware that the BEF was under independent command, Joffre attempted to establish as confiding a relationship as possible with Sir John French at their first meeting on 6 August, sharing his operational plan with Sir John. To give further support to his uncertain left flank and to ensure that the BEF conform to French movements, Joffre sent two French reserves divisions forward to the Aisne on the British left on 23 August. The new French Sixth Army then anchored the British left flank. Repeated conferences were held with Sir John French at British Headquarters on 26 and 29 August, on 5 September at Melun – the latter most dramatic – and on 5 and 2 October 94 to have Sir John conform to French strategic plans. When these were unsuccessful, Joffre appealed to his government, as during the retreat before the Battle of the Marne and after the 5 October meeting, to have Kitchener intervene to oblige Sir John to meet French operational expectations in the field.

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Vicious in the replacement of his own failing commanders, Joffre was equally prepared to make adjustments for the benefit of good relations with the English. While Joffre sacked leaders (such as Lanrezac before the Marne and Berthelot in November) who could not get along with the British, he made appointments of people (such as Franchet d’Esperey) who could. To ensure better coordination between Belgians, British, and French, Joffre appointed Foch, a known anglophile and man of great energy, to coordinate operations in the north after 5 October. Foch devised a method of his own for leading the British into battle: he thought they made war “like a sport,” so as a corrective he mingled small French and British units in close quarters on the battlefield. Joffre’s meddling in British personnel questions was of a much more dubious nature. Growing out of French reluctance to redeploy the BEF in the north for fear that they would not fully engage, a second command crises of grave proportions developed when the British failed to take Lille and began entrenchments to cover a possible retreat to the coast. On  November at Dunkirk, Joffre sought to have Kitchener replace Sir John French, but he rejected the aging Hamilton whom Kitchener suggested in his place – since Wilson, the French nominee, was unacceptable for political reasons. Having then singled out Murray, the British chief of staff, as the cause of British caution, Joffre fell in with Wilson’s intrigue to replace Murray and engaged in a political agitation of more than two months, involving the highest levels of government, to have Murray replaced. Nor was Joffre hesitant to make repeated demands, which became even more pronounced in 95 as more territorial divisions and the New Armies were readied for war, for the maximum deployment of British troops from Britain to the French front, to locations and at times suited to French operational needs. Other approaches, such as the drive for a unified command and overall Allied planning, would be attempted in 95 in a bid to obtain a greater and more integrated British participation. The French dependence on the British for continental security, which was so pronounced prior to and following the Munich Crisis of 938, began in fact in 94 and not after the Ruhr invasion of 923. The lack of a well-defined command formula proved to be one of the most serious failings of prewar planning. In the absence of an agreed formula providing for unity of command, the interoperability of the two forces was greatly impaired, especially during periods of stress on the

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battlefield. The relationship between the French and British field commanders under these conditions was often governed by the interaction of personalities and the question of mutual confidence. The Anglo-French military relationship in 94 was characterized by an outward desire to cooperate in an attempt to defeat the common enemy. But in the background there was much suspicion and mistrust. Bad French planning at the outset, which led to the failed Battle of the Frontiers, threatened to rip the coalition apart. Thinking that he had been “let in” at Mons, Sir John French’s tattered confidence in the French was totally shattered in the Le Cateau defeat. He thus decided to drop out of the line and to retreat to safety. Much conflict was generated as the French, clinging to the prewar stereotype of the British as “slow, late” and unadapted for offensive warfare, attempted to engage them in battle according to successive French strategic plans. The miracle of the Marne was preceded by the renewal of cooperation – a triumph of Allied solidarity brought about by Kitchener’s stern instruction to Sir John French to cooperate more fully with the French, and by Joffre’s appointment of more favourable field commanders, which did much to improve relations. But new problems arose as the demands of French strategy in the Race to the Sea led to another major command crisis. This, too, was resolved, at least temporarily, under Foch’s energetic leadership, and success was obtained in the Battle of Ypres. But the lack of a well-defined command structure impaired the military effectiveness of the two forces when faced with the need for coordination under the stress of battle. The lack of an acceptable command formula and a problematic and rancorous relationship between British and French commands would persist into the next phase of the war. Several other factors, such as language and cultural differences, which contributed to inadequate communications at various levels, and the interaction of diverse personalities undoubtedly played a role in Allied command relations. But in most instances, as problems developed between the two commands, not far in the background were the political and military exigencies of their respective governments. The role of domestic politics in setting the stage for the Anglo-French wartime experience should not be underestimated. In both countries the march to war was a painful exercise in which the interplay of political forces provided the context for both the concentration of executive power and the relationship between civil and military authorities. Wedged be-

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tween the imperious demands of the British secretary of state for war and the demands of Joffre, Sir John French found himself in a generally uncomfortable situation, which was exacerbated by the conflicts within his own staff. Joffre, on the other hand, as the Victor of the Marne, gained a temporary ascendancy over his government in the strategic direction of the war, but the parliament soon reasserted its authority when the 94 campaign failed to score a decisive victory. The British strategic reevaluation that followed the advent of trench warfare underscored for them the advantages of peripheral operations. This would place them at odds with the French Command on basic strategic issues in 95 and would put severe and unrelenting stress on Allied command relations. The French and British, as former enemies, were uneasy allies in 94, but they enjoyed at least limited success in their attempt to work together and cooperate on the field of battle. By mid-November, when the War of Movement with its manoeuvre of mass armies on the open field had deteriorated into trench warfare and deadlock on the Western Front, many of the basic features of the wartime alliance had been hammered out. The War of Movement, with its close interaction between policy, strategy, and tactics, thus proved to be a formative period of the AngloFrench coalition. Nonetheless, the relative smallness of the British force determined that for many months to come the British would remain the junior partners in the land war on the Western Front.

notes

pr e fac e  See, for example, Strachan, The First World War; Stevenson, Cataclysm; Cassar, Kitchener’s War; Haig, War Diaries and Letters, 94–98; Foley, German Strategy and the Path to Verdun; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory. On the Central Powers, see Herwig, The First World War. 2 See Greenhalgh, Victory through Coalition; Prior and Wilson, The Somme; Philpott, Anglo-French Relations on the Western Front, 94–98; Wallach, Uneasy Coalition. 3 For an appraisal of previous literature, see Bond, ed., The First World War and British Military History. 4 French, British Strategy and War Aims 94–96 and The Strategy of the Lloyd George Coalition 96–98; Neilson, Strategy and Supply; Burk, Britain, America, and the Sinews of War, 94–98. 5 Howard, The Continental Commitment; Kennedy, The Rise of the Anglo-German Antagonism 860–94. 6 See Wilson, The Policy of the Entente; Williams, Defending the Empire; Neilson, Britain and the Last Tzar. 7 Pedroncini, Les mutineries de 97. 8 For a brief analysis, see Prete, “Dossier l’alliance franco-britannique pendant la Grande Guerre. Présentation,” 3–5. Franco-American and Italo-French relations were the subject of investigation in the 970s. See Kaspi, Le temps des Américains; Guillen, ed., La France et l’Italie pendant la Première Guerre mondiale. 9 Soutou, L’or et le sang. 0 See Horn, “Alexandre Ribot et la coopération financière anglo-française 94– 97”; Dutton, “La Grande Bretagne, la France, et la campagne de Salonique en 97”; Philpott, “Origines et signification de la stratégie britannique du ‘flanc

24

 2 3

4

5

6

7 8

9

Notes to pages xiv–5

nord’”; Prete, “Le conflit stratégique franco-britannique sur le front occidental et la conférence de Calais du 6 juillet 95”; Philpott, “Squaring the Circle.” Horn, Britain, France, and the Financing of the First World War. Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 2–3. Wallach, Uneasy Coalition, 4–5. While developing a good framework for analysis, this volume suffers from lack of archival research, being based uniquely on published sources. Philpott, Anglo-French Relations on the Western Front, 94–98, 62–4. This detailed study, while not neglecting institutional factors or personal relationships, focuses extensively on British military strategy, to the neglect of vital diplomatic and political considerations, and devotes little attention to the French side of the partnership. While Philpott has based his study on in-depth research in British archival sources, he has conducted limited research in French archives. See Greenhalgh, Victory through Coalition. Greenhalgh also makes an important contribution to our knowledge of liaison between the French and British commands, 94–6, but provides only summary treatment of the 94–5 period (pp. 2–4), based on limited archival research. See, for example, Prior and Wilson, The Somme who, in an otherwise excellent book, treat the origins of the Battle of the Somme (pp. –69) entirely from British sources. Also see notes 3–5, above. See notes 4, 6, above. For the related interaction of the French and British in the Mediterranean theatre, see Cassar, The French and the Dardanelles; also Dutton, The Politics of Diplomacy. For a development of this argument with regard to the British prior to the Battle of the Somme, see Prior and Wilson, The Somme, 4–0.

c h a p t e r on e Doise and Vaïsse, Politique étrangère de la France, 29–66. See Andrew and Kanya–Forstner, France Overseas, 9–32. Poidevin and Bariéty, Les relations franco-allemandes, 85–975, 35–4. See Albrecht-Carrié, A Diplomatic History of Europe Since the Congress of Vienna, 46–7, 54–5. 5 For the diplomacy of the period, see Rich, Great Power Diplomacy, 84–94, 28–465; Renouvin, Histoire des relations internationales, 3: 5–309. 6 Joffre, Mémoires du Maréchal Joffre, 90–97, : 26–7; Danilov, La Russie dans la Guerre mondiale (94–97), 7, 27–32. This memoir by the prewar Russian first quartermaster general is still a valuable source on Russian military planning. 7 Collins, “The Franco-Russian Alliance and the Russian Railways, 89–94,” 777–88; Danilov, La Russie, 7; Duroselle, La France et les Français, 900–94,  2 3 4

Notes to pages 5–0

8 9

0  2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 20 2 22 23

24

25 26 27 28

29 30 3

25

35–20. For the economic side of Franco-Russian relations, see Girault, Les relations économiques et financières entre la France et la Russie de 887 à 94. Joffre, Mémoires, :29–32; Williamson, The Politics of Grand Strategy, 208. Joffre, Mémoires, :26–7; Pichot-Duclos, Réflexions sur ma vie militaire, 96; France, Ministère de la Guerre, Les Armées françaises dans la Grande Guerre (hereafter AFGG ), I (I), 9. This official history, with massive tomes of accompanying documents, is excellent on operations but omits certain sensitive diplomatic and political documents. Keiger, Raymond Poincaré, 38–9; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 22–3. Renouvin, Relations internationales, 3:78–80, 89–90; Keiger, Poincaré, 39. Keiger, Poincaré, 39–40. Cairns, “International Politics and the Military Mind,” 274–6; Joffre, Mémoires, :32. Keiger, Poincaré, 39–42, 56–60, 64–9. See Chastenet, Histoire de la Troisième République, 4:0–, 74–5; Weygand, Mémoires, :4–3; Joffre, Mémoires, :30–2. Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 22–5. See King, ed., The First World War, 24. See Foley, German Strategy and the Path to Verdun, 26–55. See Andrew, Théophile Delcassé and the Making of the Entente Cordiale. Duroselle, La France et les Français, 900–94, 300. Ibid., 35–23; Albrecht-Carrié, Diplomatic History, 232–5. Andrew, Delcassé, 20–5. Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 54–88. On the evolution of the Entente cordiale, see Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy. Though somewhat dated on issues related to intelligence, this remains the best work on the subject. See Keiger, Poincaré, 9–28; cf. Poincaré, Au service, :23–5. For the course and impact of the nationalist revival, see Weber, The Nationalist Revival in France, 905–94. See Keiger, Poincaré, 24–92. For a more in-depth treatment of Poincaré’s foreign policies, see Keiger, France and the Origins of the First World War. Prete, “The War of Movement on the Western Front, August 94 – November 94,” 39. Joffre, Mémoires, :04, 09, 22–3, 69–70, 79–80; cf. AFGG , I (I), 43–4. Colonel Yarde Buller, British Military Attaché at French Headquarters, to Kitchener, British Secretary of State for War, 4 February 95, Kitchener Private Office Papers, The National Archives, London, formerly Public Record Office (hereafter PRO). Prete, “War of Movement,” ix, 502–0. See Tobie et al., Histoire de la France coloniale, 94–990, 73–9. Contamine, La revanche (87–94), 49–50; Jouan, Histoire de la Marine française, 300.

26

Notes to pages 0–6

32 Auphan, La Marine dans l’histoire de la France, 26; Contamine, La revanche, 50. Ultimately, an estimated 535,000 to 607,000 colonial troops served in France, of whom 66,000–7,000 were killed. In addition some 800,000–900,000 colonials served in auxiliary tasks and as workers (Tobie et al., Histoire de la France coloniale, 76–9). The importance of the colonial contribution in 94 is disputed by Michel, “Un mythe: La ‘Force noire’ avant 94,” 83–90. 33 See Doise and Vaïsse, Diplomatie et outil militaire, 40–8, 66–73. On the development of the French navy, see Jenkins, A History of the French Navy; Ropp, The Development of a Modern Navy. 34 See Churchill, The World Crisis, 94–98, :–7; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 227–8, 232–7, 243–8, 38–27; Howard, Continental Commitment, 48–9. 35 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 255–6, 258–63, 280–99; Churchill, World Crisis, :2–3; Grey, Twenty-Five Years, 892–96, :93–6. 36 See Prestwich, “French Attitudes toward Britain, 9–94,” 284–6; Maurice, Lessons of Allied Cooperation, 5. 37 Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 33–5; Andrew and Kanya-Forstner, France Overseas, 3. 38 Quoted in Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 66. 39 Callwell, Field Marshal Sir Henry Wilson, :28–9. 40 On the strengths of the British Empire, see Neilson, “Greatly Exaggerated.” 4 On the relative decline of the British Empire, see Friedberg, The Weary Titan; Kennedy, Rise of the Anglo-German Antagonism. 42 Rich, Great Power Diplomacy, 360–. 43 Neilson, Britain and the Last Tzar, 205–37. 44 Ibid., 7–2, 230–; Monger, The End of Isolation, 23–46. 45 Andrew, Delcassé, 20–5. 46 Wilson, British Foreign Secretaries and Foreign Policy, 65–70; Kennedy, The Realities behind Diplomacy, 25. 47 See Kennedy, Rise of the Anglo-German Antagonism, 223–50, 29–305. 48 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 54–88. 49 Neilson, Britain and the Last Tzar, 267–88. 50 Ibid., 35–6. 5 McDermott, “The Revolution in British Thinking from the Boer War to the Moroccan Crisis,” 99–7. 52 Sumida, In Defence of Naval Supremacy, –5; Williams, Defending the Empire, 84–99, 56–79. 53 Howard, Continental Commitment, 20, 33, 36, 4, 45–7, 53. 54 Steiner and Neilson, Britain and the Origins of the First World War, 0–5, – 23. 55 Stevenson, Armaments and the Coming of War, 278–9, 289–9; Mombauer, Helmuth von Moltke and the Origins of the First World War, 35–42, 72, 74–8. 56 For a critique of the tendency in the literature to emphasize the continental commitment, see Schurman, “Imperial Naval Defence: Then and Now,” 9–2.

Notes to pages 6–22

27

57 Howard, Continental Commitment, 5–2. 58 Otte, “A Fair Equilibrium?” 24. 59 See Kennedy, Realities behind Diplomacy, 36–5, 2–7. On Unionist defence policies, see Williams, Defending the Empire. 60 See Lloyd George, War Memoirs; Churchill, World Crisis. For a critique of the latter, see Prior, Churchill’s “World Crisis” as History. 6 French, British Economic and Strategic Planning 905–95, 22–38, 5–73. 62 See Nevakivi, “Lord Kitchener and the Partition of the Ottoman Empire, 95– 96,” 36–29; Cassar, The French and the Dardanelles, 5–9. 63 See Semmel, Liberalism and Naval Strategy, 84–98, 34–45. 64 See Marder, From the Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, :40–3, 7–5, 287–9. 65 Ibid., 368–77. 66 For an overview, see Barnett, Britain and her Army, 509–970. On the institutional reforms of the British Army, see Hamer, The British Army, 75–263. 67 For a detailed study, see d’Ombrain, War Machinery and High Policy. 68 Gilbert, “Pacifist to Interventionist,” 87–7. 69 Wilson, Policy of the Entente, 63–4. 70 See Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 67–204. 7 French, British Economic and Strategic Planning, 22–38, 5–73. 72 Neilson, Strategy and Supply, 43; Hankey, The Supreme Command 94–98, :37, 40. 73 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 97–204, 249–63. 74 Philpott, Anglo-French Relations, 3–4. 75 Ibid., –3. 76 For a full appraisal of the two strategies, see Philpott, “British Military Strategy on the Western Front,” –77; also Wilson, “The War Office, Churchill, and the Belgian Option,” 28–28. 77 See sources in previous note. The dangers of an isolated action by a small force, in an age of rapid deployment by railway, seem to have been perceived only dimly. For an historic overview of British strategy, see French, The British Way in Warfare, 688–2000. 78 Helmreich, “Belgian Concerns over Neutrality and British Intentions, 906– 94”; Philpott, Anglo-French Relations, 6. 79 Taylor, Politics in Wartime and Other Essays, 5. 80 See French, British Economic and Strategic Planning, 5–73; Marder, Dreadnought to Scapa Flow, 328–404; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 300–8; cf. French, British Strategy and War Aims, 2–6. 8 Hankey, Supreme Command, :39–40. 82 See Neilson, Strategy and Supply, for a full discussion. 83 Renouvin, Relations internationales, 2:25–2, 384–9; Rich, Great Power Diplomacy, –2, 59–6; Helmreich, Belgium and Europe, –78. 84 Helmreich, “Belgian Concerns over Neutrality and British Intentions,” 424; Helmreich, Belgium and Europe, 46–53.

28

Notes to pages 22–9

85 Pirenne, La Belgique et la Guerre mondiale, 39–42. 86 Philpott, “British Military Strategy on the Western Front,” 89. 87 Pedroncini, “Stratégie et relations internationales,” 43–58; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 7–22; Joffre, Mémoires, :20–7. 88 Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 8, 37. 89 Helmreich, “Belgian Concerns over Neutrality and British Intentions,” 46–27; Helmreich, Belgium and Europe, 53–69; cf. Prete, “Belgian Response to the European Crises, 938–939,” 44–50, 57. 90 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 26–8; Helmreich, Belgium and Europe, 59–64, 67; Helmreich, “Belgian Concerns over Neutrality and British Intentions,” 42–5. 9 Quoted in AFGG , I (I), 70. 92 Helmreich, Belgium and Europe, 69–7. 93 See Messimy, Mes souvenirs, 286–33. 94 See pp. 95–96, 99, below. 95 See chapter 6, below. French military war aims as elaborated under Joffre called for the detachment of the German states up to the Rhine, which would be integrated with Belgium into the French defensive system (Prete, “French Military War Aims, 94–96,” 887–99; Joffre, Mémoires, 2:369–78). 96 See Wilson, Policy of the Entente, 85–00.

c h a p t e r t wo  Detailed in Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, –88. 2 On the preparation of the French army, 870–94, see Ralston, The Army of the Republic; Porch, The March to the Marne; Contamine, La revanche; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 4–45. For a critical appraisal of the literature, see Prete, “The Preparation of the French Army prior to World War I.” 3 See Messimy, Souvenirs, 74–7, 82; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 9–0, 3–4, 25–6; Ralston, Army of the Republic, 320–43; cf. Porch, March to the Marne, 7–5. 4 See Ralston, Army of the Republic, 67–76, 80–9, 98–9, 295–6, 326. 5 Ibid., 203–35. 6 Serman, Les officiers français dans la nation (848–94), 227–8; Prete, “Preparation of the French Army,” 248–9. 7 See pp. 29–3, 49–50, below. 8 Messimy, Souvenirs, 82; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 7; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 209–3. 9 Joffre, Mémoires, :22–7. 0 Contamine, La revanche, 24; Varillon, Joffre, 66; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 4– 6.  Desmazes, Joffre, 52–3; Joffre, Mémoires, :, 6–7; Messimy, Souvenirs, 77–8; Contamine, La revanche, 26. 2 Joffre, Mémoires, :–3; Messimy, Souvenirs, 77–8.

Notes to pages 29–35

29

3 Alexandre, Avec Joffre d’Agadir à Verdun (9–96), 7–8, –2, 64–5; Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 4–5. 4 Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 7; Contamine, La revanche, 25. 5 Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 6. 6 Joffre, Mémoires, :34–9. 7 See Challener, The French Theory of the Nation in Arms, 866–939, 7–2, 03–5. 8 Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 33–4; Rocolle, L’hécatombe des généraux, 0–5; Prete, “Preparation of the French Army,” 24–66. 9 Porch, March to the Marne, 238–42. 20 Carrias, La pensée militaire française, 302. 2 See Weber, Nationalist Revival, 20–8. Contamine, La revanche, 40–52; Joffre, Mémoires, :90–8; Krumeich, Armaments and Politics in France on the Eve of the First World War. 22 Weber, Nationalist Revival, 29–44; Ralston, Army of the Republic, 370–. 23 Tanenbaum, General Maurice Sarrail, 856–929, 34. 24 Prete, “War of Movement,” 25–9. 25 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 67–8. 26 Prestwich, “French Attitudes,” 284–6; Maurice, Lessons, 5. 27 Prestwich, “French Attitudes,” 284–6. 28 Joffre, La préparation de la Guerre et la conduite des opérations, 2. 29 See Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 69–70, 85–6, 88, 208–9, 226. 30 Ibid., 84–6, 73–6, 80–. 3 Ibid., 77–8, 80–, 208. On Joffre’s expectations, see Poincaré, Au service, :84; cf. Joffre, Mémoires, :07–8. 32 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 06–2, 86–96; Howard, Continental Commitment, 42–7; Gilbert, “Pacificist to Interventionist?” 87–7. For a fuller treatment of Wilson’s strategic thinking and his role in the evolution of British prewar military strategy, see Jeffery, Wilson: A Political Soldier, 90–9. 33 Wilson, Policy of the Entente, 63–4. 34 Esher, ed., Journals and Letters of Reginald, Viscount Esher, vol. 3, 6 September 9, 58; Churchill, World Crisis, :59–64. 35 Philpott, “The Strategic Ideas of Sir John French,” 548–79; Wilson, “The War Office, Churchill, and the Belgian Option,” 28–28. 36 Helmreich, “Belgian Concerns over Neutrality and British Intentions,” 46–27. 37 Philpott, “The Strategic Ideas of Sir John French,” 458–79. 38 Churchill, World Crisis, :64; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 97–204, 249–63, 296–8. 39 Halpern, The Mediterranean Naval Situation, 908–94, 3–0; Churchill, World Crisis, :94–7; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 227–46, 265–99, 38–20. 40 Keiger, Origins, 0–6; Grey, Twenty-Five Years, :93–6; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 255–6, 258–63, 280–99. 4 Callwell, Wilson, :37–46; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 30, 334; Cassar, Asquith as War Leader, 7–9.

220

Notes to pages 36–4

42 Cf. Prestwich, “French Attitudes,” 36. 43 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 22–4, 74–8, 208; Joffre, Mémoires, :22– 7, 07–9, 28–32. 44 Pedroncini, “Stratégie et relations internationales,” 43–58; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 22–3, 26–8. 45 Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 8, 37. 46 Poincaré, Au service, :84–6; Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 47–52. 47 See below, chapter 4, for an appraisal of French expectations with the advent of war. 48 Doughty, “French Strategy in 94,” 427–54; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 36–8, 42–3; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 224–5; Joffre, Mémoires, :54–5. 49 See Contamine, La revanche, 64–88; cf. Howard, “Men against Fire,” 50–26; Prete, “Preparation of the French Army,” 246–7, 250–2, 258–9. 50 Tanenbaum, “French Estimates of Germany’s Operational Plans,” 50–7. 5 Ibid.; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 4–2; Joffre, Mémoires, :38–9, 248–50. The French staff reasoned that a wide German sweep across Belgium would weaken the German centre, resulting in French victories, which would draw in German forces from the German right; and also, somewhat surreptitiously after the fact, that a wide sweep across Belgium was sure to draw in the British because of the danger to Antwerp (ibid., 38–9). 52 See Desmazes, Joffre, 80; Joffre, Mémoires, :250; Rocolle, L’hécatombe, 37–2. Rocolle claims the real problem was to have overestimated the number of German divisions that would be deployed against Russia. 53 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 23–6; Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 50–2, 70–. 54 Cited in Philpott, “The Strategic Ideas of Sir John French,” 462–3. 55 CT 523, Paul Cambon, Ambassador in London, to French Minister of Foreign Affairs, 23 March 95, Archives des Affaires Etrangères (hereafter AE), série “Guerre 94–98,” vol. 535, p. 208. 56 “Report to the President of the Republic … March 92,” France, Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Commission pour la publication des documents relatifs aux origines de la guerre de 94–98, Documents diplomatiques français, 87–94, 4 vols. (Paris: Imprimerie nationale 929–959) 3e sér., vol. 2, no. 272. 57 For an assessment of Anglo-French military liaison, 94–95, see Greenhalgh, Victory through Coalition, 75–84. 58 On the operation of other First World War alliances, see Neilson, “The AngloRussian Alliance, 94–97,” and Herwig, “Estranged Bedfellows,” 63–78, 49–62. 59 Prestwich, “French Attitudes,” 294ff; Cairns, “International Politics and the Military Mind,” 273–85; Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 64–6. 60 Prestwich, “French Attitudes,” 300–2. 6 Ibid., 297–300, 30–2. 62 Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 75–8ff.

Notes to pages 4–8

22

63 Ibid., 296–7, 35, 37–8; Joffre, Mémoires, :2, 23–4; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 226. 64 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 29, 3–2; cf. Huguet, Britain and the War, 26, who warned after the war of the dangers of British self-interest. 65 Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 67–8, 50–. 66 Towle, “The European Balance of Power in 94,” 333–42. 67 Magnus, Kitchener, 279. 68 French, British Strategy and War Aims, 9; Andrew, Delcassé, 25. 69 French, British Strategy and War Aims, 9–0.

chapter three  For recent volumes of note, see p. 23, nn  and 2; also Hull, Absolute Destruction; Beckett, The Great War, 94–98; Herwig, First World War. 2 See Renouvin, Peuples et civilisation, 9:26–9; Mayer, Political Origins of the New Diplomacy, 97–98, –4. 3 For varying assessments of the Third Republic, 87–94, see Mayeur and Rebérioux, The Third Republic; Thomson, Democracy in France, 9–73; Goguel, La politique des partis sous la III e République, 7–50. On ministerial instability and lack of cabinet control of colonial policy, see Andrew and Kanya-Forstner, France Overseas, –2. 4 Keiger, Poincaré, 22, 46, 50–2; Wright, Raymond Poincaré and the French Presidency, –6ff. 5 For Poincaré as president and wartime leader, see Keiger, Poincaré, 45–239; Wright, Poincaré, –228; Miquel, Poincaré, 276–378. 6 Suarez, Briand, 2:502–5; Keiger, Poincaré, 62–4, 66, 69–7. 7 See Jevons, “La politique de la guerre,” 85–6, 224–40. 8 For Poincaré’s role in the July 94 crisis, see Keiger, Poincaré, 63–92. 9 Mayeur and Rebérioux, Third Republic, 349; Dallas, At the Heart of a Tiger, 426– 9. 0 Allain, Joseph Caillaux, 40–36, 44–3; Keiger, Poincaré, 60–; Dallas, At the Heart of a Tiger, 430–.  Keiger, Poincaré, 63–6; Dallas, At the Heart of a Tiger, 426–7; Mayeur and Rebérioux, Third Republic, 349. 2 Becker, 94, 06–9; Dallas, At the Heart of a Tiger, 429–30; Mayeur and Rebérioux, Third Republic, 349. 3 Keiger, Poincaré, 65, 7–2. 4 Ibid., 79–83, 85–6. 5 Ibid., 77–9, 83. 6 See Becker, Comment les Français sont entrés dans la guerre, 573–8. 7 Stevenson, French War Aims against Germany, 94–99; Schor, La France dans la Première Guerre mondiale, 39.

222

Notes to pages 48–52

8 King, Generals and Politicians, 3–2, 39; Chastenet, Troisième République, 4:83; Renouvin, La crise européenne, 28. 9 See Mayer, Political Origins of the New Diplomacy, 5; King, Generals and Politicians, 39ff; Becker, “Union Sacrée et idéologie bourgeoise,” 65–74. 20 Renouvin, Les formes du gouvernement de guerre, 2–2; King, Generals and Politicians, 5–6, 7–8. 2 Ralston, Army of the Republic, 329. 22 See King, Generals and Politicians, 36ff. 23 See Renouvin, Formes du gouvernement, 6–7; King, Generals and Politicians, 8. 24 King, Generals and Politicians, 5; Messimy, Souvenirs, 23–2. 25 Messimy, Souvenirs, 232–3; cf. King, Generals and Politicians, 5–6. Neither gives the exact date of this guideline. 26 Renouvin, Formes du gouvernement, 77; d’Esperey, “Notes sur la conduite supérieure de la guerre,” 40; Messimy, Souvenirs, 230–; King, Generals and Politicians, 5–6. 27 Renouvin, Formes du gouvernement, 77; d’Esperey, “La conduite supérieure de la guerre,” 40. 28 Renouvin, Formes du gouvernement, 6–7, 77; d’Esperey, “La conduite supérieure de la guerre,” 40; King, Generals and Politicians, 8. 29 Bruntz, Allied Propaganda and the Collapse of the German Empire in 98, 8–9. 30 For the definitive account of Joffre’s relationship to his government from the end of July to December 94, see Jevons, “La politique de la guerre”; see also King, Generals and Politicians, 3–6, 2–35. For a primary account, see Messimy, Souvenirs, 229–65. 3 Poincaré, Au service, 5:42–3; King, Generals and Politicians, 26–7. 32 Personal Letter of Millerand to Joffre, /9–4, Service historique de la Défense (Archives de Guerre), Vincennes (hereafter cited as AG ), Fonds Buat 6N 7, dossier: “Ordres généraux du G .Q.G .,” September 94 (reproduced in AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 774); King, Generals and Politicians, 34. 33 Jevons, “La politique de la guerre,” 227–4; King, Generals and Politicians, 27. 34 Messimy, Souvenirs, 234; cf. Poincaré Papers, vols. 36, 37, “Notes Journalières,” March–August, September–December 94, Bibliothèque nationale (hereafter cited as BN), NAF (6027),  September 94, p. 2; Poincaré, Au service, 5:226, 25–3. 35 King, Generals and Politicians, 27; Poincaré, Au service, 5:68–84. 36 Private letter of Paul Cambon to Delcassé, 27 August 94, Delcassé Papers, AE , vol. 3, pp. 326–8. 37 See Keiger, Poincaré, 204–2; Wright, Poincaré, 42–59. 38 Private letter, Millerand to Kitchener, 30 May 93, Millerand Papers, BN , box 20 (uncatalogued at date of consultation). King, Generals and Politicians, 26; Herbillon, Souvenirs, :3–4.

Notes to pages 52–6

223

39 Messimy, Souvenirs, 234–5; King, Generals and Politicians, 32, 35; Joffre, Mémoires, :4; Poincaré, Au service, 5:356. 40 King, Generals and Politicians, 28–9, 33; Messimy, Souvenirs, 235. 4 See Jevons “La politique de la guerre,” passim, 48–9. 42 See detailed treatment below, pp. 28–9, 72–8. 43 See T. 2, “Ordre général no. 2,” 5 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A , no. 53; Joffre, Mémoires, :237–8; Desmazes, Joffre, 248. 44 Desmazes, Joffre, 248. For the best biographies of Joffre, see Desmazes, Joffre, and Varillon, Joffre; also Conte, Joffre. 45 Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 90–3, 336; Muller, Joffre et la Marne, 34–7; Joffre, Mémoires, :239–40; Géneral Henri-Mathias Berthelot, “Souvenirs de la Grande Guerre: Notes extraits de mon Journal de Guerre,” vol. : “Au Grand Quartier Général: La Guerre de Mouvement de la déclaration de guerre au 24 novembre 94,” unpublished typescript held by the general’s nephew, Jean-Claude Dubois, Cressely, St Rémy-les-Chevreuses, France (hereafter Berthelot Diary), :iii, and 5 August 94, :5. For the operation of the German central headquarters, see Hubatsch, “Grosses Hauptquartiers 94/8,” 422ff. 46 Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 92; Joffre, Mémoires, :239–40; Berthelot Diary, :iii and 5 August 94, :5. 47 Henry Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, Imperial War Museum (hereafter IWM), DS / misc/80, 24 November 94; Messimy, Souvenirs, 26. 48 Joffre, Mémoires, :239–40; Berthelot Diary, :iii, passim; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 92. For Berthelot’s role prior to the war and during the first months of the campaign, see Torrey, Henri Mathias Berthelot, 5–8. 49 See especially, Berthelot Diary, :232–3, 6 November 94. 50 Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 90, 94, and n; d’Esme, Le Père Joffre, 72–3. See also Berthelot Diary, :5, 5 August 94; AFGG , X (I), 7, 8. 5 Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 20; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 93; Pichot-Duclos, Réflexions, 86–8, 228–30. 52 Herbillon, Souvenirs, :3; Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 20. 53 Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 336; Weygand, Mémoires, :82. 54 Weygand, Mémoires, :82; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 6–7, 336; Desmazes, Joffre, 248–9. 55 Pichot-Duclos, Réflexions, 89, 93; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 92–3, 62–6, 06–7, 8– 4; Joffre, Mémoires, :239–40, 379–86. 56 Berthelot Diary, :5, 5 August 94; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 9–2, 90. 57 Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 7, 90–, 34. 58 Joffre, Mémoires, :239, 292; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 9–2. 59 Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 9; Joffre, Mémoires, :239; Muller, Joffre et la Marne, 38– 40. 60 See Pierrefeu, GQG , :–5; Taylor, The First World War, 20; Herbillon, Souvenirs, :25, 3 September 94; Muller, Joffre et la Marne, 02–9; cf. Joffre, Mémoires,

224

6 62

63 64 65 66

67 68 69

70 7

72 73 74

75

76 77 78 79

Notes to pages 56–6

:240. The British Commander, Sir John French, maintained a much closer relationship with his troops. See, for example, French, 94, 89. Muller, Joffre et la Marne, 30–. For a comparison of the two commanders and their styles of command, see Dominique, “Les deux chefs allemand et français en août–septembre 94,” 58– 65; also Gorlitz, The German General Staff, 57–8. Pichot-Duclos, Réflexions, 228–30; Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 20–2; Desmazes, Joffre, 249–5. Carrias, La pensée militaire, 302–3. Rocolle, L’hécatombe, 262; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 59–60, 85, 0–; cf. Ralston, Army of the Republic, 337–8. Callwell, Wilson, :37–46; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 30, 334; Cassar, Asquith as War Leader, 7–9. For further on the Curragh incident, see Fergusson, The Curragh Incident, and Ryan, Mutiny at Curragh. Cassar, Asquith as War Leader, –2. See Grey, Twenty-Five Years, :298–33 (quotation on p. 330); Cassar, Asquith as War Leader, 3–9, and 239n3 for other sources. Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 852–927, 2: –4, 24–5; Lloyd George, War Memoirs, :65–7, 70–; Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 35; Howard, Continental Commitment, 53–4; T. Wilson, “Britain’s ‘Moral Commitment’ to France in August 94,” 380–90; K.M. Wilson, “The British Cabinet’s Decision for War, 2 August 94,” 48 ff. See Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:4–0, 3, 34, 40–; Taylor, Politics in Wartime, 3. Taylor, Politics in Wartime, 3–5, 6–20; Taylor, English History, 5–6. The Labour Party, at the outset, turned down a Liberal offer of inclusion in the government. See Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 34. Renouvin, La crise européenne, 28–9; Taylor, English History, 8. Taylor, Politics in Wartime, 5. For a biography of Asquith, see Jenkins, Asquith. For a favourable appraisal of his wartime leadership, see Cassar, Asquith as War Leader. Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 3, 35; Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:30–; Taylor, English History, 7; Young, The British Army, 642–970, 25; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 3, 4 August 94; Grey, Twenty-Five Years, 2:69–70. For biographies of Kitchener, see Esher, The Tragedy of Lord Kitchener; Cassar, Kitchener; Royle, The Kitchener Enigma; Cassar, Kitchener’s War. Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:30; Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 3. Sixsmith, British Generalship, 32–6. On the military reforms and their intent, see Hamer, Civil-Military Relations, x, xi, 75–263. Blake, “Great Britain,” 4; Sixsmith, British Generalship, 36; Hankey, Supreme Command, :86. See below, pp. 72–5.

Notes to pages 6–8

225

80 See Prete, “Le conflit stratégique franco-britannique,” 5. 8 Sixsmith, British Generalship, 55; Blake, “Great Britain,” 4; Taylor, English History, 7; Young, British Army, 26. 82 Hankey, Supreme Command, :87–98ff; Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 33–4; Ehrman, Cabinet Government and War, 55, 58. 83 Letter, Kitchener to French,  December 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/. 84 Letter, Asquith to Churchill, 8 December 94, Asquith Papers, vol. 3, pp. 237– 8, Bodleian Library; see also Churchill to Asquith, 7 December 94, Asquith to Churchill, 7 December 94, pp. 234–5. 85 See Blake, “Great Britain,” 39, 4. 86 French, 94, 5, 99–00ff; Churchill, World Crisis, :277–9. 87 See Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:58. 88 Quoted in Sixsmith, British Generalship, 78. 89 Arthur, Kitchener, 3:7–9; Taylor, English History, 20. Kitchener, however, did not foresee the advent of trench warfare (ibid). 90 See French, British Strategy and War Aims. Cassar, in his two books, Kitchener and Kitchener’s War, considers Kitchener, for his foresight in raising the New Armies, the “architect” of the Allied victory. 9 See Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:60 (diary entry of 22 December [94]); Towle, “The European Balance of Power in 94,” 339–4. 92 Young, British Army, 27–9; Taylor, English History, 20. Of these, 726,000 joined the territorial force (sources above). See Simkins, Kitchener’s Army. 93 Taylor, English History, 4, 20, 23. 94 Ibid., 8; Taylor, Politics in Wartime, 6; letter, Cambon to Delcassé, 2 September 94, Delcassé Papers, AE , T.3, 329–34; Cambon to Foch, Northern Army Group Commander, 3 November 94, Archives of Fournier-Foch (hereafter AFF), file “Paul Cambon et F. Foch.” Cambon’s complaint was not so much with the British press as with the French government and command, whom he felt provided inadequate press information. 95 Taylor, English History, 8–9, 20–2; Taylor, Politics in Wartime, 6–7; Read, Atrocity Propaganda, 94–99, 8–9. 96 See Taylor, English History, 20–; Young, British Army, 27–8. 97 Letter, Asquith to the King, 6 September 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/44 R /8; letter, French to Kitchener, 9 September 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /23. See Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 27 September 94. 98 Churchill, World Crisis, :28–2; Maurice, Lessons, 7–8; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 9 October 94. 99 Young, British Army, 27–8. 00 See Hankey, Supreme Command, :92–205. 0 Joffre, Mémoires, :46; Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 9 October 94 (events of 5 October 94), p. 27. 02 See Letters, Kitchener to French, 0,  October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /30, 32.

226

Notes to pages 69–76

03 See biographies: Holmes, The Little Field-Marshal; Cassar, The Tragedy of Sir John French; cf. Young, British Army, 98; Taylor, English History, 8; Huguet, Britain and the War, 46–7; Spears, Liaison, 74, 28; d’Esme, Le Père Joffre, 86–7; Poincaré Papers, vol. 36, BN , NAF (6027), “Notes Journalières,” 5 August 94; Terraine, Mons, 32–7. 04 “Instructions to Sir John French from Lord Kitchener, August, 94,” Great Britain, Historical Section of the Committee of Imperial Defence, History of the Great War based on Official Documents (hereafter cited as HGW ) vol. , app. 8, pp. 499–500; French, 94, 3–5; Arthur, Kitchener, 3:25–56. 05 Hankey, Supreme Command, :88–89ff. 06 See Huguet, Britain and the War, 47. 07 See Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, passim,  August 94 to 30 January 95; cf. Huguet, Britain and the War, 47–8, who had a more intimate knowledge of events at British headquarters than he cared to divulge in his memoirs. Wilson, in the bad graces of the Asquith government because of his role in the Irish Question, was initially “reduced” to brigadier-general of operations but managed, through discussion with Sir John French, to have his appointment changed to subchief of staff (Wilson Diaries, ibid., 30 July and 3 August 94.) See also French, 94, 5; HGW (94), vol. , “Order of Battle of the British Expeditionary Force, August, 94,” app. , p. 47, which gives Wilson’s rank as majorgeneral. 08 See French, 94, 5, 90, 07–9; HGW (94), vol. , “Order of Battle of the British Expeditionary Force, August, 94,” app. , p. 47; Huguet, Britain and the War, 46–8; Terraine, Mons, 59, 6, 73–4, 84–5, 09, 65. See below for a detailed account of the unfolding of events at British headquarters.

c h a p t e r fou r Portions of this chapter were previously published in “French Strategy and Deployment of the B.E.F. in France in 94,” Canadian Journal of History/ Annales canadienne d’histoire, 24 (April 989): 42–62.  Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 55–6; Joffre, Mémoires, :236, 242–3. There is no single monograph devoted to Russo-French military relations in the First World War. 2 Joffre, Mémoires, :224–6, 236. 3 Cassar, Asquith as War Leader, –3. 4 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 345–53; Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:0, 2; Grey, Twenty-Five Years, :320–3. 5 Yarde Buller to Kitchener, 4 February 95, Kitchener Private Office Papers, PRO , WO 59/0; cf. Spears, Liaison, 6. 6 Spears, Liaison, 3 7 Ibid., 3; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, , 3 August 94; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 350–3; Messimy, Souvenirs, 269–72.

Notes to pages 76–9

227

8 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 352–5; Grey, Twenty-Five Years, 2:–3. 9 Lloyd George, War Memoirs, :66–7; Trevor Wilson, The Myriad Faces of War, 28–3; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 3, 4 August 94. For an account of the July crisis, which emphasizes the role of Grey and long-term policy, see Steiner and Neilson, Britain and the Origins of the First World War, 228–57. 0 Yarde Buller to Kitchener, 4 February 95, Kitchener Private Office Papers, PRO , WO 59/0.  See Letter of Cambon to Delcassé, 7 August 94, Delcassé Papers, AE , 3:326– 8. 2 Joffre, Mémoires, :234–6. 3 Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 7–8; Joffre, Mémoires, :236; Berthelot Diary, :2, 4 August 94. 4 References as in n3 above. 5 See Berthelot Diary, :4, 5 August 94; cf. Joffre (Mémoires, :24), who places receipt of this information a day later on the sixth, but the context makes it clear that it was received on 5 August. 6 Pichot-Duclos, Réflexions, 8; Spears, Liaison, 9–0; Huguet, Britain and the War, 8; Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 6. 7 Joffre, Mémoires, :207, 20–; Pichot-Duclos, Réflexions, 78–9. 8 Berthelot Diary, :5, 30 July 94. 9 Memorandum for the Ministère de la Guerre, 3 July 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 7; Berthelot Diary, :A ; Spears, Liaison, . See also Berthelot Diary, :7,  August 94; memorandum [to the government],  August [94], AFGG , I (I), no. 22. 20 Berthelot Diary, :7,  August 94; telegram (hereafter T) 97 3/T and T. 209 3/T, Ministère de la Guerre to Commanders of 2nd, 6th, 7th, 20th and 2st Army Corps,  August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), nos. 25, 26, and p. 66n; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 53. 2 AFGG , I (I), 80–; memorandum of Chief of General Staff, 2 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 28; telephone communication from Minister of War to Belin, Chief of Staff, 2 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 27; Berthelot Diary, :0, 2 August 94. 22 Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 6. 23 See Joffre, Mémoires, :23–2, 234–5, 249–50; Desmazes, Joffre, 80; cf. Berthelot Diary, :8–9,  August 94, and “Extract of a Memorandum prepared for General Joffre in February, 94,” A54–5, which indicates that by February 94 the hypothesis of a wide German sweep across Belgium was beginning to cause some anxiety to the French General Staff. 24 Spears, Liaison, 3. Both Henry Wilson and Sir John French affirmed at the War Council on 5 August 94 the French expectations that mobilization of the two forces would be simultaneous (secretary’s notes of a War Council held at 0 Downing Street, 5 August 94, PRO , Cab 42//2). 25 Berthelot Diary, :5, 7, 30 July,  August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :234–5.

228

Notes to pages 79–83

26 Joffre, Mémoires, :234–5; Berthelot Diary, :8–9,  August 94; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 52–3; AFGG , I (I), maps 8, 9. 27 Joffre, Mémoires, :234–6; Berthelot Diary, :8–9,  August 94; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 53. 28 See Contamine, La revanche, 62–3. 29 Joffre, Mémoires, :50–60, 250; Desmazes, Joffre, 80. 30 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 36–4. The Royal Navy had already assumed its war stations off Scapa Flow on 29 July (see Churchill, World Crisis, :97–8, 2–3, 24–9ff). 3 Spears, Liaison, 3; secretary’s notes of a War Council held at 0 Downing Street, 5 August 94, PRO , Cab 42//2. 32 Prévisions de l’état-major de l’armée (4e bureau) relativement à la durée de la concentration W, n.d. (annexed to the GQG copy of Plan XVII), AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 7 and p. 20n. The British timetable presented to the War Council on 5 August 94 was for concentration to be completed fifteen days after mobilization (secretary’s notes of a War Council held at 0 Downing Street, 5 August 94, PRO , Cab 42//2). 33 Joffre, Mémoires, :243–4. 34 Berthelot Diary, :2, 5 August 94. 35 Ibid.; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 60; Joffre, Mémoires, :243–4. Although these decisions were taken on 7 August (ibid.), orders for the Lorraine offensive were not issued until  August (Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 62). 36 Joffre, Mémoires, :243–4. 37 Cipher telegram (hereafter CT) 20, Paul Cambon to Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, 4 August 94 (Report of Interview with Grey), AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” vol. 534, p. 99ff. 38 CT 98, Paul Cambon to Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, pour le Ministre de la Guerre, 4 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 4. 39 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5 August 94. 40 Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 367; CT 203, Cambon to Ministère des Affaires Etrangères (reporting an interview with Grey), 4 August 94, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” vol. 534, p. 39ff. 4 Secretary’s notes of a War Council held at 0 Downing Street, 5 August 94, PRO , Cab 42//2. 42 Ibid.; Hankey, Supreme Command, :69–72; Churchill, World Crisis, :23–2; Haig, Private Papers, 5 August 94, pp.68–9; cf. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, , 3, 5 August 94. 43 Secretary’s notes of a War Council held at 0 Downing Street, 5 August 94, PRO , Cab 42//2; Hankey, Supreme Command, :7–2. 44 Asquith to the King, 6 August 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/26; Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:3. 45 Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 3, 35; Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:30–; Taylor, English History, 7; Young, British Army, 25; Wilson Diaries, vol.

Notes to pages 83–6

46 47 48 49 50 5

52 53 54 55

56 57 58

59

60

6 62

63 64 65

229

5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 3, 4 August 94; Grey, Twenty-Five Years, 2:69–70. For the most recent biography of Kitchener, see Cassar, Kitchener. Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:30; Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 3. Hamer, British Army, 26. Esher, Journals and Letters, 3:58. Haig, Private Papers, 68–9; Arthur, Kitchener, 3:7–9. Cassar, Kitchener’s War, 294–6. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5, 6 August 94. Huguet, designated to head the Military Mission to the British Army, was commanding a regiment when war broke out (Huguet, Britain and the War, 27, 3). Haig, Private Papers, 68–9; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 August 94. Callwell, Wilson, :59–6; secretary’s notes of a War Council held at 0 Downing Street, 6 August 94, PRO , Cab 42//3. Letter, Asquith to the King, 6 August 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/26 R /63; Spears, Liaison, 3; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 363–4. Secretary’s notes of a War Council held at 0 Downing Street, 6 August 94, PRO , Cab 42//3; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 6 August 94; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 366. Instructions to Sir John French from Lord Kitchener, August 94, HGW, vol.  [3rd edn.], app. 8, pp. 499–500. Maurice, Lessons, 6–7. Message, French to Kitchener, 24 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /7; Arthur, Kitchener, 3:35–6. Sir Archibald Murray, handwritten account of interview with Kitchener, 4 August 94, Murray Papers, WO 79/62. Kitchener planned to draw on all the resources of both the British Isles and the empire (ibid.). Lt. Colonel de la Panouse to the Minister of War, 9 August 94, AG , 6N 905 /46; cf. French (British Economic and Strategic Planning, 24–35), who takes the same point of view as the latter observation. Berthelot Diary, vol. , 7 August 94; cf. Joffre, Mémoires, :255; cf. CT 228, Cambon to Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, 6 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 7. Berthelot Diary, :24, 9 August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :255; cf. CT 228, Cambon to Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, 6 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 7. Joffre, Mémoires, :255; AFGG , I (I), p. 49; Huguet, Britain and the War, 39; dates de mobilisation de l’Armée anglaise, 9 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 34; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 August 94; Callwell, Wilson, :59– 6. General-in-Chief to the President of the Republic, 9 August [94], noon, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 26; Joffre, Mémoires, :255; Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 23. Berthelot Diary, :24, 9 August 94. No. 297, Commander-in-Chief to President of the Republic, 9 August [94], AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 4; Joffre, Mémoires, :255–6.

230

Notes to pages 86–9

66 Messimy to de la Panouse, 9 August 94, 7:45 a.m., AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 22. Messimy merely stated Joffre’s desiderata. 67 No. 297, General-in-Chief to the President of the Republic, 9 August [94], noon, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 24; Berthelot Diary, :24–5, 9 August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :255–6. 68 See Poincaré Papers, vol. 36, “Notes Journalières,” BN , NAF (6027), 9 August 94; cf. Poincaré, Au service, 5:45–6. 69 CT 247, Cambon to Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, 9 August 94, received 9:30 p.m., AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 23; French, 94, 7. 70 Berthelot Diary, :24, 9 August 94. 7 Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 23–5. 72 Spears, Liaison, 3; Joffre, Mémoires, :262; AFGG , I (I), p. 49; cf. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 August 94. 73 Joffre, Mémoires, :262; cf. Huguet, Britain and the War, 40–; AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 34. See Spears, Liaison, 3. 74 Joffre, Mémoires, :26, 266; Berthelot Diary, :34, 4 August 94,; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 35; cf. Huguet, Britain and the War, 38–9. 75 Cf. Prévisions de l’état-major de l’armée (4e Bureau) relativement à la durée de la concentration W, n.d., (annexed to the GQG copy of Plan XVII), AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 7 and p. 20n; HGW (94), :50; Spears, Liaison, 3; Huguet, Britain and the War, 24–5. 76 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 August 94. 77 Huguet, Britain and the War, 0; De la Panouse to Ministère de la Guerre, 9 August 94, AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 93. 78 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7, 2 August 94; Callwell, Wilson, :59–6; cf. Huguet, Britain and the War, 40–7. 79 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 August 94; Williamson, Politics of Grand Strategy, 366; Arthur, Kitchener, 3:20–3. 80 A.J.P. Taylor’s interpretation that Kitchener deferred to French strategic plans in the spring of 95 in view of later taking to the field as commander-in-chief of the New Armies, at which time the French would be expected to defer to him, is not a credible explanation of his deferential attitude to the French in this early period (Taylor, English History, 27). 8 CT, Huguet to Diplomatie, Paris 294, 3/8 [94], AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 226; Joffre, Mémoires, :262. 82 See Joffre, Mémoires, :263–5, 270–; AFGG , I (I), 5. 83 French, 94, 40. 84 T.F, French to Secretary of State for War, 7 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /2; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 August 94; Huguet, Britain and the War, 53. The efficiency of British mobilization in 94 is in sharp contrast to the shambles of British deployment in the South African War. See Jeffery, Wilson, 85–8, 9–2, 02, for Wilson’s role in this transformation.

Notes to pages 90–5

23

85 Joffre, Mémoires, :278–80, 273–4, 274–5n; Berthelot Diary, , 9 August 94; Huguet, Britain and the War, 28. 86 Cf. Joffre, Mémoires, :279–80. 87 Neustadt, Alliance Politics, 56; cf. Greenhalgh, Victory through Coalition, –2. 88 Huguet, Britain and the War, 62; Spears, Liaison, 75–6, comments of Hely D’Oisel, Chief of Staff, to Lanrezac’s Fifth Army next to the British. For Lanrezac’s attitude toward the British, see Lanrezac, Le plan de campagne français.

chapter five  Poincaré Papers, vol. 36, BN , NAF (6027), “Notes Journalières,” 5 August 94; French Diaries, IWM , 75/46/2, vol. F, 5 August 94. 2 French Diaries, IWM , 75/46/2, vol. F, 6 August 94. 3 Letter, French to Kitchener, 7 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /; French, 94, 35. 4 Joffre, Mémoires, :270–. Joffre alone mentions Sir John’s assertion of his independence of command. 5 French Diaries, IWM , 75/46/2, vol. F, 6 August 94. 6 Tanenbaum, “French Estimates,” 50–7; Joffre, Mémoires, :265–7. 7 Berthelot Diary, :34–5, 4, 5 August 94; Lanrezac, Plan, 76–8. 8 Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 63–6; no. 9, “Memo for French,” 6 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 249; see Berthelot Diary, A 2–2, “Instruction Particulière no. 0 aux III e, IVe et Ve Armées et communiquée aux anglais et aux belges,” 8 August [94], for the full definition of these hypotheses. 9 No. 9, “Memo for French,” 6 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 349. 0 Joffre, Mémoires, :270–; letter, French to Kitchener, 7 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /.  French, 94, 35–7; Huguet, Britain and the War, 5–2, 62; Spears, Liaison, 73–80; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 00; Maurice, Lessons, 8. 2 Berthelot Diary, :39, 6 August 94; Huguet, Britain and the War, 5; Spears, Liaison, 76–7. 3 French, 94, 36; Berthelot Diary, :44, 7 August 94. 4 Spears, Liaison, 78–9; Huguet, Britain and the War, 53. 5 Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 00; Spears, Liaison, 76. 6 French to Kitchener, 7 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 August 94. 7 French, 94, 36–7. For a major work, see Lanrezac, La manoeuvre de Lützen, 83. 8 French Diaries, IWM , 75/46/2, vol. F, 7 August 94. 9 Joffre, Mémoires, :278, 273–5; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 9 August 94. 20 Berthelot Diary, :47–8, 20 August 94.

232

Notes to pages 95–7

2 Ordre particulier no. 5, Joffre to Lanrezac and French, 2 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A , no. 695. 22 AFGG , I (I), 306. 23 Germany, Reichsarchiv, Der Weltkrieg, 94 bis 98, vol. , maps 2, 3, “Operationen der deutschen ., 2. Und 3. Armee,” “Operationen der deutschen 4. Und 5. Armee,” 23.8.94, um die Mittagsstunden. Gamelin (Manoeuvre, 36, 53–4), comes to similar conclusions. According to Doughty, the French fielded nine corps against ten German corps in the Ardennes battle, but no sources are cited to justify this appraisal (Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 65). 24 Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 56–76; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 28–3, 29n; Koeltz, La guerre de 94–98, 40–2; Contamine, La revanche, 97–202; HGW (94), :0– . 25 Joffre claimed that the wooded area of the Ardennes gave insufficient scope for the effective use of his 75s (T, French to Kitchener, 27 August 94, Kitchener Office Papers, PRO , WO 59/3). For a broader discussion, see Johnson, Breakthrough!. 26 Berthelot Diary, :43, 8 August 94; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 36; Huguet, Britain and the War, 56, 62. 27 For a French account of liaison with Belgium in August 94, see Messimy, Souvenirs, 286–36; for an account of the Belgian campaign by a Belgian author, see Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:04–8, 27–30. 28 No. 9, Huguet to Joffre, 2 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A , no. 709; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 August 94. 29 AFGG , I (I), 456–7. 30 Lanrezac, Plan, 4–2; Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 29. 3 No. 94/3, Note secrète [Lanrezac to GQG ], AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 759 and p. 643n2; Berthelot Diary, :5, 2 August 94. 32 Spears, Liaison, 34–50; Lanrezac, Plan, 67–8; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS / misc/80, 22 August 94. 33 Huguet to Lanrezac, 23 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 054; French, 94, 58. 34 Spears, Liaison, 69; Lanrezac, Plan, 67–8; “Compte rendu” to GQG [by Fifth Army], 23 August [94], AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 7 and p. 882n. 35 Spears, Liaison, 62; French, 94, 59; no. 3255, Huguet to GQG , 23 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 056, which indicates that no decision had been made to advance at  am . 36 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 22 August 94; Fifth Army, message telephoned [to GQG ], 22 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 876 and p. 729n. 37 HGW (94), :7–95. 38 Copy in Kitchener`s hand of message from French, 24 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /7; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 23 August 94; HGW (94), :93–4. 39 Berthelot Diary, :53–5, 22, 23 August 94; CT 70, Instruction particulière no. 8 for the I and II Armies, 22 August [94], AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 86.

Notes to pages 97–0

233

40 Goutard, Six semaines de guerre-éclair, :30–. 4 Copy in Kitchener`s hand of message from Sir John French, 24 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /7. 42 CT 440, Paul Cambon to Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, 25 August 94, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” vol. 534, p. 53. 43 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 24 August 94; CT, “Note du Cateau,” British Army to Fifth Army, 24 August 94, AFGG , I (Ii), A (I), no. 67 and p. 34n; Spears, Liaison, 96–203. 44 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 24 August 94; message F 30, French to Kitchener, 25 August 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/6; HGW (94), :96– 7. 45 French, 94, 64. 46 Letter, French to Kitchener, 25 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /8, 9; T. F 30, French to Kitchener, 25 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , Wo 59/3; French, 94, 74. 47 Bond, France and Belgium, 939–940, 96. 48 Messimy, Souvenirs, 286–36; Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:04–8, 27–30. 49 Huguet, Britain and the War, 62; Spears, Liaison, 97. 50 No. 890, Joffre to Messimy, 24 August [94], AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 49. 5 Joffre, Mémoires, :292–3, 306–7, 345. 52 Ibid., 30; CT 878, Joffre to Messimy, 23 August 94, AFGG , I (I) A (I), no. 040. 53 Berthelot Diary, :54–5, 23, 24 August 94. 54 Desmazes, Joffre, 95–6; Joffre, Mémoires, :30–. 55 Ibid., 3–3; no. 2349, General Instruction no. 2, Joffre to Commmanders of Armies, AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 395. 56 Joffre, Mémoires, :3; Berthelot Diary, :6, 63 of 25–26 August 94; Huguet, Britain and the War, 62. 57 Joffre, Mémoires, :30–4, 309; Berthelot Diary, :4, 47, 53–4, 57–8 of 23–24 August 94; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 68–9, 78. 58 General Instruction no. , 2 September 94, Berthelot Diary, , A , p. 47; Joffre, Mémoires, :309. 59 Spears, Liaison, 85–6; CT 243/3, Fifth Army to GQG , 24 August 94, AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 23; Joffre, Mémoires, :299; French, 94, 74. 60 Joffre, Mémoires, :3–2, 36; Berthelot Diary, :6, 25 August 94. 6 Berthelot Diary, :6–2, 26 August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :36–9; Lanrezac, Plan, 208–; T. F 32, French to Kitchener, 26 August 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/6. 62 Berthelot Diary, :62, 26 August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :39. 63 T, French to Kitchener, 27 August 94, Kitchener Private Papers, PRO , Wo 59/ 3; T. F 32, French to Kitchener, 26 August 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/6. 64 French, 94, 83, 86; Joffre, Mémoires, :38. 65 Joffre, Mémoires, :36–9; T.MO 5 no. 2, Kitchener to Military Attaché [for the British Command], Paris, 26 August 94, Grey Papers, PRO , FO /800/55, 93–4;

234

66 67 68

69 70

7 72 73 74

75 76 77 78

79 80 8 82 83 84

Notes to pages 0–4

letter, French to Kitchener, 27 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /. Letters, Grey to Asquith, 26 August 94, and Asquith to Kitchener, 27 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/74 WR /4. HGW (94), :39–2. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 25, 26 August 94; HGW (94), :39–43; letter, French to Kitchener, 27 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /; cf. French (94, 76–80), who denies any assent to Smith-Dorrien’s request for permission to stand; see Huguet, Britain and the War, 62–4. French was apparently unaware of the full extent of German forces on his front (Spears, Liaison, 229n). Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 26 August 94; Callwell, Wilson, :68–9. See HGW (94), :39–2, on losses, 9n; Smith-Dorrien, Memories of FortyEight Years’ Service, 393–48; Huguet, Britain and the War, 62–5; cf. Kluck, The March on Paris and the Battle of the Marne, 60–8. CT 00, Huguet to GQG , 26 August [94], 8:5 p.m., AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 826. Letter, French to Kitchener, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /; cf. Huguet to GQG , 27 August 94, received at 8:5 a.m., AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 826. Huguet to Commander-in-Chief, 27 August 94, in Messimy, Souvenirs, A 7, 409–; also in Joffre, Mémoires, :328–9. Letter, French to Kitchener, 27 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /; no. 2378, GQG to Huguet, 27 August 94, AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 800 and 530n2; no. 2349, Instruction générale no. 2, Joffre to Commanders of Armies, 25 August 94, AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 395. Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 32. No. 2478, telephone message [GQG to] Huguet, 27 August 94, AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), 80 and p. 542n; Joffre, Mémoires, :323. Joffre, Mémoires, :323; cf. Huguet to Commander-in-Chief, 27 August 94, in Messimy, Souvenirs, A 7, 409–. Commander-in-Chief, French Armies, to Commander-in-Chief of English Armies, 27 August 94, h30, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” vol. 534, p. 7; cf. AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 79; notes exchanged between officials at Ministères des Affaires Etrangères, 27, 28 August 94, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” vol. 534, p. 72; Joffre, Mémoires, :323. Berthelot Diary, :66, 27 August 94. See Joffre, Mémoires, :39–32. Ibid., :37–26, 332. Message F.42, French to Kitchener, 28 August 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/ 6; Berthelot Diary, :69, 29 August 94; Spears, Liaison, 259. Goutard, La Marne, 67–8. See French, 94, 87, 93. On losses of guns see, HGW (94), :92, 3, 9, 286.

Notes to pages 05–7

235

85 T. GW 37, Inspector-General of Communications to War Office, 30 August 94, HGW (94), vol. , 2nd edn., app. 22 (–3), 473–4. [This appendix was deleted from HGW (94), vol.  (3rd edn.) used throughout unless otherwise stated.] 86 T. F 54, French to Kitchener, 3 August 94, HGW (94), vol. , (2nd edn.), app. 22 (5), 474–5. That this telegram was written late on the thirtieth is evidenced by the reference to the Battle of Guise as having taken place “yesterday,” the twenty-ninth. 87 Personal letter, French to Kitchener, 30 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /2 (reproduced in Arthur, Kitchener, 3:48). 88 French, 94, 78, 87, 93; HGW (94), :92, 3, 9, 238. 89 Huguet to Joffre, 28 August 94, AFGG , I (Ii) A (I), no. 996; Joffre, Mémoires, :340. 90 Joffre, Mémoires, :340–; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 33–4; French, 94, 9–2. 9 Berthelot Diary, :69–7, 29–30 August 94. 92 [Huguet’s minute] “GQG ,” 30 August [94], AFGG , I (Ii) A (Ii), no. 424 and p. 2n, gives a full account of his activities. 93 Joffre, Mémoires, :353, 345–6; Lanrezac, Plan, 240–, 244. 94 Berthelot Diary, :67, 29 August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :338, 345–9. 95 Message no. 54, French to Kitchener, 30 August 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/6. 96 T, French to Kitchener, 30 August 94, in Arthur, Kitchener, 3:46–7. 97 Letter, French to Kitchener, 30 August 94, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /2. In reproducing this portion of the letter in his memoirs, French changed the word “when” to “should,” considerably altering the sense. See Arthur, Kitchener, 3:48n, and French, 94, 94. In his memoirs, French emphasized the bad condition of his army and Kitchener’s “special instructions” as reasons for his retirement on 30 August. He made no mention of his loss of confidence in the French Command. See French, 94, 94. 98 Private letter, French to Kitchener, 30 August 94, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /2. 99 Ibid. 00 Cruttwell, The Great War, 3. 0 Koeltz, La guerre de 94–98, 69–70; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 36–7. 02 See King, First World War, 24; Spears, Liaison, 97. The situation, however, was restored in East Prussia prior to their arrival by the German victory at Tannenberg on 26–30 August; see Cruttwell, The Great War, 40–8. 03 Kluck, March on Paris, 75–9; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 343; Spears, Liaison, 260–2, 530–; Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 52–3. 04 Berthelot Diary, :68–70, 28–29 August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :69, 7. 05 See Berthelot Diary, :53, 75, 22, 3 August 94. 06 See Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 75; cf. Kluck, March on Paris, 94–9. 07 Berthelot Diary, :75–6 and 76n, 3 August 94; Spears, Liaison, 38, 23; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 39, 72; Joffre, Mémoires, :39, 325.

236

Notes to pages 07–

08 Berthelot Diary, :76, 3 August 94 and subsequent entries. 09 Berthelot Diary, :69–72, 30 August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :338, 345–9; CT 2, Huguet to GQG , 30 August 94, AFGG , I (Ii) A (Ii), no. 422. 0 Joffre, Mémoires, :33–5, 329–3, 338; Contamine, La victoire de la Marne, 248– 50; Spears, Liaison, 286 and 286n; Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,”  September 94.  See Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:58. Cf. Lanrezac, Campagne, 263. 2 Tel. message 2962, Joffre to Huguet, 30 August [94], AFGG , I (Ii) A (Ii), no. 44; Joffre, Mémoires, :346–9. 3 Berthelot Diary, vol. , 3 August 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :366–7. 4 Message (unnumbered), Bertie to French, 3 August 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/6. 5 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA ,  September 94; letter, Poincaré to Millerand,  September 94, Millerand Papers, BN , box 4. 6 Letter, Grey to Kitchener, 3 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/77 WU /3. 7 Prete, “War of Movement,” 248–9. Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 3–5. 8 Letters, Asquith to the King, 24, 29 August 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/35 and 4/35/37. 9 Letter, Asquith to the King, 3 August 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/38; CT 772, Kitchener to French, 3 August 94, HGW (94), 2nd edn, vol. , app. 22, 475–6. 20 Letter, Grey to Kitchener, 3 August 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/77 WU /3. 2 Arthur, Kitchener, 3:45 and 45n; Cassar, Kitchener, 236–7. 22 Letter, Asquith to the King,  September 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/39; letter 4, Asquith to Venetia Stanley,  September 94, reproduced in Brock, eds., H.H. Asquith, 22–3. 23 CT 373, Joffre to Millerand,  September 94, AG , 6N 905. 24 Tel. message 3055, Joffre to Huguet, 3 August [94], AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 609; Lanrezac, Plan, 25–3. 25 CT 373, Joffre to Millerand,  September 94, AG , 6N 905. 26 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA ,  September 94; Herbillon, Souvenirs, :2,  September 94; French Diaries, vol. F,  September 94, IWM , 75/46/2. 27 “Propositions du Maréchal Sir John French,”  September 94, Millerand Papers, BN , box 20; letter, Millerand to Joffre,  September 94, AG , Fonds Buat, 6N 7. 28 CT 373, Joffre to Millerand,  September 94, AG , 6N 905; Poincaré Papers, vol. 36, BN , NAF (6027), “Notes Journalières,”  September 94, 273. 29 Joffre, Mémoires, :363–4 and n; Berthelot Diary, :78–8, , 2 September 94; CT 3332, Joffre to French, 2 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 980 and p. 44n2. 30 CT, Bertie to Grey,  September [94], PRO , Grey Papers, FO / 800/56A /9 and 6; French Diaries, vol. F,  September 94, IWM , 75/46/2. 3 Letter, Kitchener to French,  September [94], Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /4; letter, French to Kitchener, 3 September [94], Kitchener Papers, PRO ,

Notes to pages –5

32 33

34

35 36 37 38 39

40

4 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

237

30 57/49 WA /5; letter, French to Joffre, 3 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 267. Letters, French to Churchill, 6, 0 September 94, quoted in Churchill, World Crisis, :278–80. Letter, Asquith to the King, 5 September 94, pro , Cab 4/35/4 R /78; HGW (94), :286–7; T.903, Kitchener to French, 7 September 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/6. Copy of telegram, French to Kitchener, 4 [] September [94], Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /8; cf. Arthur, Kitchener, 3:54; see letter, Sir John French to Commander-in-Chief [Joffre], 3/9/94, 2:00 noon, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 267. Tel. message, Maunoury to French,  September [94], AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 862; Gallieni, Carnets, , 2 September 94, 53–4; French, 94, 0, 04. Lanrezac, Plan, 259–69; Spears, Liaison, 350– and 35n; CT 3420, Joffre to Huguet, 2 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 989. Joffre, Mémoires, :332, 333–40, 369–70, 388–9; Lanrezac, Plan, 236, 277, 284, and 279–80n; Spears, Liaison, 367–7. Berthelot Diary, :82–3, , 2 September 94; memo for Army Commanders, 2 September 94, AFGG , I (I) A (II), no. 993 and p. 49n3. Tel. message, Mission “W ” to Joffre, 3 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 274 and p. 545n2; Joffre, Mémoires, :379; letter, Joffre to Gallieni, 3 September 94, AG , Fonds Joffre, K 268, dos. , 32. CT 3703, CT 3636, Joffre to Gallieni, 4 September [94], AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 2326, p. 656n, and no. 237; Joffre, Mémoires, :366, 379–82; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 84–6; Berthelot Diary, :90, 4 September 94. Huguet to Staffs of GQG , Fifth Army, and Military Governor of Paris, 4 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 2337. Gallieni, Mémoires, 0–4; Joffre, Mémoires, :383; French Diaries, 4 September 94, IWM , 75/46/2. Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 36–4; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 8–4; Berthelot Diary, :88–9, 4 September 94. CT 3704, Joffre to d’Esperey, 4 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 2327; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 4 September 94. Joffre, Mémoires, :387–8; memo, d’Esperey to Joffre, 4 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 2399 and p. 705n. Berthelot Diary, :92, 4 September 94; CT 4, Huguet [to GQG ], 4 September [94], AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 2338. Berthelot Diary, :89–90, 4 September 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :385–9; CT 3795, General Order no. 6, 4 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 2332. Joffre, Mémoires, :387–9; Gallieni, Carnets, 4 September 94, 70–; Berthelot Diary, :89–9, 94, 04 of 4, 5, 8 September 94. CT 44, Huguet to Gallieni, 4 September [94], AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 234; Huguet, Britain and the War, 93; HGW (I), 276–7, 538–9. CT, Huguet to Gallieni, [GQG and Sixth Army], 4 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 2343; Joffre, Mémoires, :390–.

238

Notes to pages 6–2

5 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5 September 94; Huguet to [GQG , Fifth Army and] Gallieni, 5 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (II), no. 248. 52 Joffre, Mémoires, :39–2; CT 3845, Joffre to Millerand, 5 September 94, AG , 6N 905. 53 Joffre, Mémoires, :39, 393. 54 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 5 September 94; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS / misc/80, 5 September 94. 55 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5 September 94; cf. Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 5 September 94. 56 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 5 September 94. 57 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5 September 94. Joffre and Gamelin claimed that Joffre banged his fist on the table at this point and said, “British honour is at stake” (Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 99–200; Joffre, Mémoires, :394), but the diary accounts written at the time by Wilson and Clive, which give no mention of this, are probably more reliable. 58 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 5 September 94; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS / misc/80, 5 September 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :393–4; Spears, Liaison, 43–6; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 98–9. 59 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 6 September 94; French, 94, 2; Berthelot Diary, :98, 7 September 94. 60 CT 45, General Order no. 7, 7 September 94, AFGG , I (III) A (I), no. 782; CT 4365, CT 4669, Specific Instruction nos. 9, 20, 2 of 8, 9, 0 September 94, AFGG , I (III) A (Ii), nos. 386, 2008, 2649. 6 French Diaries, vol. F, IWM , 75/46/2, 6 September 94; cipher message no. 882, Kitchener to French, 6 September 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/2; Huguet to Joffre, 6 September 94, AFGG , I (II) A (I), no. 242. 62 T, Joffre to French, 7 September 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/5. 63 Tel. message 685, Huguet to GQG , 7 September [94], AFGG , I (III) A (I), no. 80. 64 For a detailed account of relations between the British and French armies during the Battle of the Marne, see Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 309–24. 65 For highly regarded French accounts of the Battle of the Marne, see Contamine, La victoire de la Marne; Goutard, La Marne; Gamelin, Manoeuvre. In English, see the classic account, now in reprint, Tyng, The Campaign of the Marne; Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 9–7. On the German side, see Kluck, March on Paris; Koeltz, Documents allemands sur la bataille de la Marne.

c h a p t e r si x  Hankey, Supreme Command, :92; Churchill, World Crisis, :320. 2 Tel. message 868, Huguet to GQG , 2 September 94, AFGG , I (III) A (Iii), no. 3726; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 September 94. 3 Berthelot Diary, :46–7, 22, 23 September 94; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 22, 23 September 94.

Notes to pages 2–5

239

4 Berthelot Diary, :30, 6 September 94; letter, Asquith to the King, 23 September, 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/47 R /80. 5 HGW (94), :440; letter, French to Kitchener, 24 September 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /28. 6 HGW (94), 2:29. 7 T. 38, Guerre to Staff,  September [94], AFGG , I (III) A (Iii), no. 322; CT 589, Joffre to Messimy, 8 September 94, AFGG , I (Iv) A (I), no. 396. 8 “French and German Forces,” [3rd Bureau note], 4 October [94], AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 20 and p. 677n2; Joffre, Mémoires, :445. The strategic importance as an invasion route of the Douai plain and its extension all across northern Europe was underlined by Major Michael Boire, the First World War specialist, at a stop near Compiègne, during the Canadian Battlefields Tour, sponsored by the Royal Military College of Canada, 6–24 February 2008. 9 Letter, French to Kitchener, 24 September 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /28. 0 Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill, 3:8.  Ibid.; see, Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 24–26 September 94. 2 French, Diaries, 27 September 94, 60. 3 French Diaries, vol. F, IWM , 75/46/2, 27 September 94; CT 247, Kitchener to French, 29 September 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/6. 4 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 27–28 September 94. 5 Note of Marshal Sir John French, Commander, British Army, to General Joffre, Commander, French Armies, 29 September 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 65; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 29 September 94. 6 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 29 September 94. 7 Ibid.; Berthelot Diary, :59, 62 of 29, 30 September 94. 8 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 29, 30 September 94; notes, Joffre to French, French to Joffre,  October 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/5. 9 Falkenhayn, General Headquarters, 94–96, and Its Critical Decisions, 2–3, 27–8. For military accounts of the siege of Antwerp, see Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:28–3; Churchill, World Crisis, :335–59; HGW (94), :27–67; Trainor, “Antwerp, 94,” 8–7; Germany, Reichsarchiv, Der Weltkrieg, 5:22–44. 20 Kluck, The March on Paris, 4ff; Hankey, Supreme Command, :93; Churchill, World Crisis, :320, 329–30. 2 Hankey, Supreme Command, :94–5; Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:95; Churchill, World Crisis, :30. 22 See Hankey, Supreme Command, :95–8; Churchill, World Crisis, :30–8; cf. Falkenhayn, General Headquarters, 2. 23 Churchill, World Crisis, :332–5. 24 Ibid., 32. 25 T. 38, Guerre to Staff, Chatillon-sur-Seine, /9 [94], :5 a.m., AFGG , I (III) A (III), no. 322. 26 CT 589, Commander-in-Chief to War Minister, 8 September [94], 9:57 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (I), no. 396; CT 659, Commander-in-Chief to Huguet, 2 Sep-

240

27 28 29 30 3

32

33 34

35

36

37 38 39 40 4

Notes to pages 25–7

tember [94], :45 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (I), no. 708. Cf. Churchill (World Crisis, :32), who claims Joffre telegraphed Kitchener on 6 September asking whether a brigade of marines could not be sent to Dunkirk. Cf. Hankey (Supreme Command, :97–8), who indicates that Joffre asked for all available British troops. Joffre later complained that the British had not given satisfaction to his request for British territorials at Dunkirk (CT 7963, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 29 September [94], 6:42 p.m., AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” no. 534, p. 97 – in AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 60). Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:33. See Hankey, Supreme Command, :94; Churchill, World Crisis, :335; Berthelot Diary, :68, 2 October 94. Hankey, Supreme Command, :97–8; Churchill, World Crisis, :32. Churchill, World Crisis, :37–8, 32; Hankey, Supreme Command, :98. CT 532/G , 537/G , War to General Staff, [Romilly] GQG ,  October [94], 2:5 a.m., :25 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 747; Joffre, Mémoires, :459; T, Minister of War to Staff, Romilly,  October 94, :45 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 748. Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:29; Berthelot Diary, :54, 58 of 26, 29 September 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :459–60; HGW (94), :460; Falkenhayn, General Headquarters, 2. Herbillon, Souvenirs, :46–7,  October 94 (conversation with Viviani); Poincaré, Au service, 5:339–40. Poincaré, Au service, 5:339–40; CT 34/G , War to Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine,  October [94], :40 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 747; Churchill, World Crisis, :335–6. See CT 53/G , War to [GQG ], 29 September [94], :00 p.m., CT 7963, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 29 September [94], 5:30 p.m., CT 34/G , War to Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine,  October [94], :40 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), nos. 603, 60, 747. CT 47, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War,  October 94, 0:25 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 75; Joffre, Mémoires, :460–; Berthelot Diary, :64– 5, 67–8, , 2 October 94. See below, pp. 40–6, on the competition between French and British for control of the Belgian army. Churchill, World Crisis, :332. Ibid., 333–4; cf. Longford, Wellington, :406–7; Glover, Wellington as Military Commander, 88–9. Churchill, World Crisis, :335–6; Cassar, Kitchener, 242. Churchill, World Crisis, :335–7; Cassar, Kitchener, 242; cf. Joffre, Mémoires, :464. Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:29, gives German strength as 20,000. CT, Bordeaux to General Staff, Romilly, 2 October 94, 2:5 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 820 and p. 54n; Cassar, Kitchener, 242; cf. Churchill, World Crisis, :337–8; Joffre, Mémoires, :463–4; CT 550/G , [French Minister of] War to [French] General Staff, [2] October [94], 2:30 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 82.

Notes to pages 27–3

24

42 Arthur, Kitchener, 3:67–8; Joffre, Mémoires, :463; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2, 3 October 94. 43 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2, 3 October 94. 44 No. 79, note of the Commander-in-Chief to Marshal French, with regard to the transport of British troops, 4 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 2002; French Diaries, vol. Q , IWM , 3 October 94, 75/46/2. 45 See [3rd Bureau] “Note on the mission confided to the English Army, October 94,” AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 2009 (and p. 674n3) which recommends an appeal to Poincaré. 46 See Philpott, Anglo-French Relations, 4–2. 47 T. F 30, French to Kitchener, 6 October 94, Kitchener Office Papers, PRO , WO /59/4. 48 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 9 October 94, 26–7; Poincaré, Au service, 5:354–8. 49 CT 39, Kitchener to French, 4 October 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/5; Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 9 October 94, 27. 50 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 9 October 94, 27. 5 Ibid. 52 Berthelot Diary, :76, 5 October 94. 53 Note of Field Marshal French to the Commander-in-Chief of the French Armies, 5 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 229. See also p. 7n. 54 Letter, Asquith to the King, 7 October 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/50, R /88; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 6 October 94; letter, French to Kitchener, 3 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /33. 55 CT 534, War to General Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine,  October [94], :40 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 747; T. 46, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War,  October 94, 0:20 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), 487n2; CT 47, Commander-inChief to Minister of War,  October 94, 0:25 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 75; Berthelot Diary, :64,  October 94. 56 CT 54/F, War to General Staff, Romilly,  October [94], 5:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 749; CT 203, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War,  October 94, 9:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 760. 57 CT 332, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 2 October 94, 2:30 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 828; Berthelot Diary, :73, 4 October 94. 58 CT, Bordeaux to General Staff, Romilly [2 October 94], 2:5 p.m., CT 550/G , War to General Staff, 2 [2] October 94, 2:30 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), nos. 820, 82 and p. 54n; CT 40, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 2 October 94, 5:40, 6:0 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 835; Berthelot Diary, :67–8, 2 October 94. 59 Churchill, World Crisis, :32; CT 589, Commander-in-Chief to War Minister, 8 September [94], 9:57 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (I), no. 396; CT 659, Commander-

242

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6 62 63

64 65

66 67 68

69

70 7

72 73

74

Notes to pages 3–4

in-Chief to Huguet, 2 September [94], :45 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (I), no. 708; CT 7963, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 29 September [94], 6:42 p.m., AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” no. 534, p. 97 (reproduced in AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 60). CT 7963, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 29 September [94], 6:42 p.m., Minister of War to Minister of Foreign Affairs, 30 September 94, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” no. 534, pp. 97, 96; Berthelot Diary, :68, 2 October 94. Berthelot Diary, :68, 2 October 94. Churchill, World Crisis, :338–4; Cassar, Kitchener, 243. Churchill, World Crisis, :34–5; CT 57/CT 572/G , Minister of War to General Staff, Romilly, 3 October 94, 4 October 94, :00 a.m., AFGG , a (IV) A (II), nos. 903, 986, and p. 669nn, 2; CT 579/G , War to General Staff, Romilly, 5 October [94], 2:5 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 206. CT 579–80, War to General Staff, Romilly, 5 October [94], 2:5, 5:30 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), nos. 206–7. T. 2, War to General Staff, Romilly, 3 October 94, :00 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 898; T, Minister of War to General Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine, 3 October 94, 6:20 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 899; Joffre, Mémoires, :462; cf. CT 47, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War,  October [94], 0:25 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 75. See Churchill, World Crisis, :343–4. T. 574, [Minister of War to Commander-in-Chief], 4 October 94, 2h50, AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 984 and p. 657n2. Berthelot Diary, :70, 3 October 94. Order of Mission given to General Pau at GQG , 5 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 209; Herbillon, Souvenirs, :50, 3 October 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :462; cf. Weygand, Mémoires, :50. See CT 47, Commander-in-Chief to the Minister of War,  October [94], 0:25 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 75; Berthelot Diary, :74, 4 October 94; see Churchill, World Crisis, :343, on the demoralization of the Belgian army, left too long without effective support. See Cassar, Kitchener, 248–9; cf. Churchill, World Crisis, :343–64. See Churchill, World Crisis, :342–3, 348–59; CT 594/G , War to General Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine, 7 October [94], 9:20 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 232; letter, Asquith to the King, 9 October 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/5, R /88. See map on p. 36. CT 594/G , War to General Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine, 7 October [94], 9:20 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 232. CT 90, Commander-in-Chief to General Foch, 6 October 94, :00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 223; CT 9, Commander-in-Chief to Governor Dunkirk, 6 October 94, :05 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 224 and p. 8n. CT 594/G , War to General Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine, 7 October [94], 9:20 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 232; CT 386, Commander-in-Chief to Foch at Doul-

Notes to pages 34–7

75

76

77

78 79

80 8 82

83

84 85 86

87

88

243

lens, 7 October 94, 9:50 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2322; Berthelot Diary, :8, 7 October 94; CT 43, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 7 October 94, :35 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2325 and p. 6nn, 2. CT 596/G , War to General Staff, Romilly, 7 October [94], 2:5 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 233; CT 48, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 7 October 94, 7:20 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 233; Berthelot Diary, :8, 7 October 94. See CT 604/G , [War to] General Staff, Romilly, 7 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 234. CT 69, Pau (at Ghent) to General-in-Chief, GQG , 8 October [94], 2:6 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 242; CT 72, Pau (at Ostend) to Commander-in-Chief, 9 October [94], 2:35 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2482; tel. message, Foch to GQG , 9 October [94], AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2489; T. 79, French Military Attaché (Ostend) to Minister of War, 0 October [94], :30 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2550 and p. 332n. CT 604/G , Minister of War to General Staff, Romilly, 7 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 234; CT 570, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 8 October [94], 9:02 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2402. CT 6/G , War to General Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine, 9 October [94], 2:00 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2472 and notes on p. 272. CT 36, [Delcassé to Cambon], 2 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /6; cf. “Projet de Réponse,”  October 94, Millerand Papers, BN , box 26, “Opérations B ,” “Relations au GB -.” Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 October 94. Tel. message, Huguet to General Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine, 7 October 94, :00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2339. Ibid.; tel. message 575, Commander-in-Chief to Huguet, 8 October 94, 8:45 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 240; CT 60, Commander-in-Chief to War Minister, 8 October 94, 0:05 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2404; Berthelot Diary, :82–3, 8 October 94. Letter, Asquith to the King, 7 October 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/5, R /88; AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 2396; letter, Kitchener to French, 0 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /30. Cassar, Kitchener, 245. CT 880, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 9 October 94, 2:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2477. CT 6/G , War to General Staff, Romilly, 9 October [94], at 2:00 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2472; CT 66/G , War to General Staff, Romilly, 9 October 94, 3:5 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2473 and p. 273n2. No. 69, [GQG ] note for the Armies, 6 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 25; CT 642, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 8 October 94, :45 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2408. CT 698, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 8 October 94, 5:59 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 240.

244

Notes to pages 37–40

89 CT 8, Pau (at Ostend) to Commander-in-Chief, 0 October [94], 6:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2552; see CT 72, 73, Pau (at Ostend) to General-inChief, 9 October [94], 2:35, 2:07 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), nos. 2482, 2483; T, Pau to General-in-Chief, 0 October 94, :26 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 255; letter, Kitchener to French,  October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /32; CT 24, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 0 October 94, 6:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2545. 90 CT 24, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 0 October 94, 6:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2545. 9 Letter, Kitchener to French,  October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /32. 92 This report, signed by Pau, Rumilly, and Cambon, reached the French War Ministry via the War Office on 7 October. “In this city [Bruges],” it said, “the English General Rawlinson is installed with his Staff to take command of the AngloFrench troops which debark at Dunkirk, Ostend and Zeebruge; he is attempting to join hands with the Belgian Army and to facilitate its retreat” (CT 605/G , War to Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine, 8 October [94], 2:55 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2396). 93 Sir Edward Grey to Sir Francis Bertie,  October 94, in Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :87–8; Greenhalgh, Victory through Coalition, 2. 94 Letter, Kitchener to French,  October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /32. 95 Trainor, “Antwerp 94,” 7; cf. Longford, Wellington, :89, 205–6, 26. 96 Gilbert, Churchill, 3:24–34. 97 Letter, Asquith to the King, 9 October 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/5, R /88; see Cassar, Kitchener, 248; Gilbert, Churchill, 3:25ff. 98 See Letter, Asquith to the King, 9 October 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/5, R /88; letter, Asquith to Venetia Stanley, 8 October 94, in Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :79–80. 99 Letter, Kitchener to French, 0 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /30. 00 Letter, Kitchener to French,  October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /30. 0 Ibid.; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 October 94. 02 Letter, French to Kitchener, 3 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /33. 03 Letter, Kitchener to French,  October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /30. 04 CT 630/G , War to Staff, Romilly,  October 94, 9:45 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 26; CT 2305, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War,  October 94, 7:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2622; CT, Pau to General-in-Chief,  October 94, 9:30 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2630; CT 222, Commander-in-Chief to General Pau, Dunkirk,  October 94, 9:0 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 267;

Notes to pages 40–2

05 06

07 08

09

0  2 3 4

5 6 7

8 9

245

CT 237, CT 288, Commander-in-Chief to Foch,  October [94], 3:00 a.m., 7:20 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), nos. 265, 2624; CT, Pau (at Calais) to GQG , 2 October [94], :40 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2695; Berthelot Diary, :87– 8,  October 94. CT nos. 226, 2222, 2378, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War,  October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), nos. 266, 268, 2626. CT 97, de Broqueville, Belgian Minister of War, to Grand quartier général, for Colonel D’Orjo, Belgian Liaison Officer at GQG , 2 October [94], 2:29 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2694; also Berthelot Diary, :89, 2 October 94. Cf. Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:35. CT 246, Commander-in-chief to Foch, 2 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2692. “Note of October 0,” [94], Foch [to Marshal French], AFF, Foch, Journées, clipped to p. 3 (reproduced in AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2567); letter, Foch to Joffre, 0 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. ; French to Foch,  October 94, :00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 263; CT, General-in-Chief to Foch,  October [94], 0:05, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 2628. See Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 243–6; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS / misc/80, 6–8, 0 December 94; CT, Guerre to Joffre, 9 December 94, AFGG , Ii A (I), no. 29. Letters, Foch to Joffre, 4, 6 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” nos. 3, 4. CT, Commander-in-Chief to Foch, 5 October 94, 0:30 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 286. Foch, Journées, Foch Papers, AFF, 6 October 94, 6–8. See Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:35. Letter, Foch to Joffre, 6 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 4. Letter, Foch to Joffre, 6 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 4; Commander-in-Chief to Foch, 5 October 94, 0:20 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 286. AFGG , I (IV), 32–5; HGW (94), 2:2–2, 28. See Falkenhayn, General Headquarters, 9–7, 27–30. Letter, Foch to Joffre, 9 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 7; AFGG , I (IV), 34; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 20 October 94; HGW (94), 2:27. Ibid.; cf. AFGG , I (IV), 34. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 20 October 94. “I don’t think Sir J. likes to be sandwiched in between 2 parts of a force, both of which are acting under the orders of a man who is not the C[ommander]-in-C[hief],” wrote Clive. “It is impossible for two commanders to run one show, the strongest ought to prevail” (Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 20 October 94).

246

Notes to pages 42–6

20 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 20 October 94; Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 20 October 94. 2 Berthelot Diary, :203, 20 October 94; letter, Huguet to Foch, 2 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 345; T, Huguet to Foch, 20 October [94], 0:00 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IiI), no. 307. See HGW (94), 2:38–48, 63–4ff. 22 Foch, Journées, AFF, 9–0; letter, Foch to Joffre, 3 November 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 0; Berthelot Diary, :206, 24 October 94; note (of Deputy Chief of Belgian Army Staff, Wielemans) for the Head of the French Military Mission at Belgian HQ , 24 October 94, about :30 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (Iv), no. 3330 and p. 27n; Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:35–6. 23 Foch, Journées, AFF, 9–0; Berthelot Diary, :206, 24 October 94; letter, Foch to Joffre, 25 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 8. Foch, who claims to have again found the Belgian Command in a state of disorder and confusion (Foch, Journées, AFF, 9–0), moved his HQ from Doullens to Cassel on the twenty-fifth to be nearer Belgian headquarters at Furnes (letter, Foch to Joffre, 25 October 94, cited above). 24 Foch, Journées, AFF, 0. 25 Ibid., 0–2; Berthelot Diary, :209, 26 October 94; Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:36–8, points out that French sources exaggerate the extent of French help, which really was received only in extremis. 26 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 3 November 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 0; cf. Falkenhayn, General Headquarters, 33. Wanty claims the most crucial part of the battle was over before the flooding took effect (L’art de la guerre, 2:37–8). 27 Letter, French to Churchill, 25 October 94, Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :28–9. 28 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 2 November 94, 45. 29 Asquith, Letters to Venetia Stanley, Sunday, 20 December 94, 33. 30 See Greenhalgh, Victory through Coalition, 33–4. 3 No. 4534, Secret, Le Général Commandant en Chef, à Monsieur le Ministre de la Guerre, 3 March 95, Millerand Papers, BN , box 20; also in AG , 6N 905, GQG , EM 3e Bur., dos. I , Armée anglaise no. 23. [Not reproduced in AFGG , II A (II)!] 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid. 34 No. 4534, ibid. and attached note, “Note sur les communications de l’Armée britannique,” 5 March 95. 35 See Prestwich, “French Attitudes toward Britain, 9–94,” 3–2; Liddell Hart, Foch: The Man of Orleans, 34–5ff. 36 Personal letter, Foch (at Cassel) to Paul Cambon, 29 November 94, AFF, dos. “Paul Cambon et F. Foch.”

Notes to pages 46–50

247

37 Foch to P. Cambon, 29 November 94, Foch Papers, AFF, dos. “Paul Cambon et F. Foch”; cf. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 28 November 94; “Foch told me that after the war he was going to ask for the Command of the troops between the Meuse & the Rhine & establish his HdQr at Metz! He wants me to come & stay with him.” Foch claimed to see an official tendency in support of his views on the future settlement: “Le discours de notre Président remettant la médaille Mre au Gal Joffre, m’est guarant que le gouvernement entre dans ces vues, et se fait déjà une mentalité de vainqueur – exigeant, opiniâtre, tenace!” (Foch to P. Cambon, 29 November 94, Foch Papers, dos. “Paul Cambon et F. Foch”). 38 Prete, “French Military War Aims,” 890–, 893–6; Joffre, Mémoires, 2:369–78. 39 On negotiations leading to the 920 Military Convention, see Marks, Innocent Abroad, 339–47; Helmreich, Belgium and Europe, 226–39; Stevenson, “Belgium, Luxemburg, and the Defence of Western Europe, 94–920,” 56–23. While the French obtained Belgian adhesion to the Military Convention as a quid pro quo for Belgian control of the Luxembourg railway system, such an arrangement would have been unthinkable in the pre-94 environment. 40 Prete, “Belgian Response to the European Crises, 938–939,” –8. 4 Letter, Kitchener to French, 3 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /33. 42 See Philpott, Anglo French Relations, 44; Greenhalgh, Victory through Coalition, 2–3.

c h a p t e r se v e n

Portions of this chapter were published previously in “The Anglo-French Command Crisis of October–November 94,” Research Studies 52 (September/ December 983): 2–26.  See Joffre, Mémoires, :465, 479, 422; 2:97. 2 Cassar, Kitchener, 237, 249–50; Holmes, The Little Field-Marshal, 233–5, 253–4. 3 See “The Battle of Flanders” (note intended for Ambassadors and Ministers of France), no. 35, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” “Opérations Stratégiques,” no. 979, a retrospective on the 94 campaign, in which the French set forth for their ministers abroad their grievance about the British failure in the march on Lille (p. 7). 4 Berthelot Diary, vol. , 30 September 94. 5 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 27 September 94. 6 Ibid. 7 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2, 3 October 94; no. 79, note, Joffre to French, 4 October 94, AFGG I (IV) A (II), no. 2002. 8 Note, Commander-in-Chief to President of the Republic, 4 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 200.

248

Notes to pages 5–4

9 Foch, Journées, AFF, 4 October 94, 3. 0 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 9 October 94, 25; CT 7026, Joffre to Millerand, 24 September 94, CT 48, Millerand to Joffre, 25 September 94, CT 7408, Joffre to Millerand, 26 September 94, Millerand Papers, Archives nationales, Paris (hereafter AN), 470/AP /5; CT 82, Joffre to General Commanding [Second Army], 4 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 2008; letter, Joffre to Foch, 3 November 94, AFF, “file Joffre.”  Weygand, Mémoires, :42–5, 80–5; Foch, Mémoires, :255–6. Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 95. 2 CT 05, Joffre to Foch, 5 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (II), no. 222; Berthelot Diary, :75, 5 October 94. 3 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 6 October 94; Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 6 October 94; Berthelot Diary, :74–9, 5, 6 October 94; T. SC /8, Foch to Staff, 8 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2420; Weygand, Mémoires, :46; HGW (94), 2:70–. 4 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 6 October 94; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS / misc/80, 6 October 94; Weygand, Mémoires, :43. 5 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 6, 7, 8, 0 October 94; letter, French to Kitchener, 3 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /33. 6 Foch, Mémoires, 2:77; Foch, Journées, AFF, 8 October 94, 6; cf. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 9 October 94. 7 Tel. message, [Colonel Huguet] to GQG , 7 October 94, 7:40 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2338 and p. 69n; T. 600, Huguet [Abbeville] to Staff, Romilly-surSeine, 8 October 94, 0:0 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 243; cf. cipher message, Huguet to Staff, Romilly-sur-Seine, 7 October 94, :30 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2337 and p. 68n. 8 See CT 90, Commander-in-Chief to Foch, 6 October 94, :00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 223; CT 386, Commander-in-Chief to General Foch, 7 October 94, 9:50 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2322. 9 T. SC /28, Foch to Staff, Romilly, 8 October 94, 0:30 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2420 and p. 23n. 20 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, iwm , ds /misc/80, 9 October, 94. 2 Weygand, Mémoires, :42; Berthelot Diary, :83, 85, 208–9, 8, 9 October 94; CT 2962, Foch to General Staff, 9 October [94], AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2487. 22 Huguet to Staff, [Tenth Army], 9 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2484. 23 Ibid.; ct 904 sd , Huguet to Staff, Doullens, Romilly-sur Seine, 0 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2559. 24 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 0 October 94; letter, Huguet to Joffre, 0 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2560. 25 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 0 October 94; Berthelot Diary, :85–7, 9, 0 October 94. 26 Joffre, Mémoires, :459.

Notes to pages 54–7

249

27 “Note of October 0” [given by Foch to Sir John], AFF, clipped opposite p. 3 (reproduced in AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2567); letter, Foch to Joffre, 0 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. ; Weygand, Mémoires, :47. 28 French Diaries, vol. Q , IWM , 75/46/2,  October 94; message, French [to Foch],  October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 263. 29 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 3 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96,” no. 2. 30 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 0 October 94; Weygand, Mémoires, :43. 3 CT 280, Joffre to Foch,  October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2628; letter, Foch to Joffre, 3 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 2; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 3 October 94. 32 HGW (94), 2:99. 33 Ibid., 2:77–2. 34 Letter, Churchill to Sir John French,  October 94, in Churchill, World Crisis, :368. For the French denial of British use of Dunkirk and the ensuing row, see above, pp. 44–5; also Greenhalgh, Victory through Coalition, 33–5. 35 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 3 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 2; CT F 364, French to Kitchener, 4 October 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/6. 36 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 4 October 94. 37 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 6, 7, 9 October 94. 38 HGW (94), 2:83–4. 39 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 3, 4 October 94. 40 HGW (94), 2:03–9; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 4, 5, 6 October 94; CT 4883, Foch to General Staff, 5 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2874. 4 Letters, Foch to Joffre, 4, 6 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” nos. 3, 4. 42 CT, Commander-in-Chief to Foch, 5 October 94, 0:30 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 286. 43 Foch, Journées, AFF, 6 October 94, 6–8. See Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:35. 44 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 6 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 4. See CT 97, de Broqueville, Belgian Minister of War, to Grand quartier général, for Colonel D’Orjo, Belgian Liaison Officer at GQG , 2 October [94], 2:29 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 2694; Berthelot Diary, :89, 2 October 94, with regard to the command arrangements. Cf. Wanty, L’art de la guerre, 2:35. 45 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 6 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 4; Commander-in-Chief to Foch, 5 October 94, 0:20 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 286.

250

Notes to pages 57–6

46 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 October 94; letter, Foch to Joffre, 8 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 6; HGW (94), 2:09. 47 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 October 94. 48 Letter, Huguet to Foch [coordinator for armies in northern theatre], 9 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 3043; French, Some War Diaries, Addresses, and Correspondence, 60, 9 October 94; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 9 October 94. 49 See, “The Battle of Flanders” (note intended for Ambassadors and Ministers of France), no. 35, AE , Série “Guerre 94–98,” “Opérations Stratégiques,” no. 979, p. 7. 50 For an excellent treatment of the several British engagements in the north culminating in the Battle of Ypres, see Beckett, Ypres; also, Farrar-Hockley, Death of an Army. 5 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 9 October 94; letter, Huguet to Foch, 20 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 306. 52 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 0 October 94; HGW (94), 2:38–47. 53 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 9 October 94. 54 Falkenhayn, General Headquarters, 9–7, 27–30; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 20 October 94. 55 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 20 October 94; Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 20 October 94; Berthelot Diary, :203, 20 October 94. 56 Joffre, Mémoires, :468–9; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2, 22 October 94; Berthelot Diary, :204, 22 October 94. 57 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 23 October 94, 26. 58 Joffre, Mémoires, :458–9; “The Battle of Flanders” (note intended for Ambassadors and Ministers of France), no. 35, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” “Opérations Stratégiques,” no. 979, p. 7. 59 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 October 94; also 4, 6 October 94. 60 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 23 October 94, 26. 6 CT 500, Minister of Foreign Affairs to Ambassador of France at London, 26 October 94, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” no. 534, 24. 62 Foch, Journées, AFF, 7. 63 Cruttwell, The Great War, 02–3. 64 CT 4782, Commander-in-Chief to Huguet, 22 October 94, 5:20 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 388 and p. 6n3. 65 Huguet to General Commanding Northern Army Group [Foch], 22 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 390 and p. 8n; CT 989, Huguet to GQG … Foch, 22 October [94], 0:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 39; see HGW (94), 2:68, 72.

Notes to pages 6–3

25

66 T. F45, French to Kitchener, 22 October 94, 2:2 p.m., HGW (94), vol. 2, app. 32, 59–20. 67 Ibid.; cf. HGW (94), 2:68, 72. 68 See Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 October 94; cf. HGW (94), 2:68. 69 CT 989, Huguet to GQG … Foch, 22 October 94, 0:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 39 and p. 9n4. 70 HGW (94), 2:83–4; cf. CT 989, Huguet to GQG … Foch, 22 October 94, 0:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 39 and p. 9n4. 7 HGW (94), 2:90–. 72 HGW (94), 2:234–5; Army Operation no. 40 by Field Marshal Sir John French … 24 October 94, 0:00 p.m., HGW (94), vol. 2, app. 33, 520–. 73 HGW (94), 2:335. 74 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 25 October 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 8. 75 CT 3779, Commander-in-Chief to General Foch, 26 October 94, 0:50, [copy of T. to Sir John French], AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3378. 76 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 24 October 94. 77 HGW (94), 2:24. 78 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 24 October 94. 79 See Army Operation Order no. 40, 24 October 94, 0:00 p.m.; O (a) 758, 25 October 94, 7:45 p.m.; O (a) 794, 26 October 94, 6:5 p.m.; O (a) 87, 27 October [94], 6:30 p.m.; O (a) 837, 28 October 94, 8:5 p.m.; O (a) 870, 29 October 94, 7:50 p.m., HGW (94), vol. 2, app. 33–8, 520–2; letter, Foch to Joffre, 3 November 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 0 (printed in AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 4252); Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 27 October 94. 80 Ibid., 27, 28 October 94. 8 Ibid., 29 October 94. 82 See below, pp. 89–96, for French involvement in the Murray-Wilson feud and the final outcome. 83 See letter, Foch to Joffre, 3 November 4, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 0 (reproduced in AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 4252); “The line is about 32 miles long,” Clive wrote on 30 October 94, after talking with Sir John and learning of his anxieties for the condition and morale of his troops (Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 30 October 94). The estimated length of 32 miles, or about 5 kilometres, appears too long; see “Location of Anglo-FrancoBelgian Forces on the evening of October 24, 94,” in AFGG , I (IV), map 34; “The Battle of Ypres, 94, 26–29 October, 94,” HGW (94), 2:240–, sketch 6, between pp. 240–. The rest of the British front between Frelinghien and La Bassée, not shown on these maps, was approximately 20 kilometres. In the course of the battle, the French took over 0 kilometres of the active front (see Foch, Mémoires, :24–2.)

252

Notes to pages 64–72

84 Foch, Journées, AFF, 4; cf. Foch, Mémoires, :24–6; Weygand, Mémoires, :70. 85 Letter, French to Kitchener, 3 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /36; CT 54, CT 542, Huguet to Staff, Cassel, 30 October 94, 9:00 p.m., 9:55 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), nos. 3547–8. Cf. “Note on the relations between French and English Staffs,” 30 October 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3552 and notes on p. 322. 86 Foch, Journées, AFF, 4; cf. Foch, Mémoires, :25–6; Weygand, Mémoires, :70–. “The Marshal just came down from his bedroom,” Weygand wrote. “He had got out of bed and hastily put on his evening dress, a blue tunic, from the sleeve of which indiscreetly peered the embroidered border of his night shirt” (ibid., 7). 87 Foch, Journées, AFF, 4–5; cf. Foch, Mémoires, :26–7; Weygand, Mémoires, :7. See CT 546, Huguet [to GQG ], 3 October 94, 2:00 noon, AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 363. 88 Foch, Journées, AFF, 5; with regard to the movement of the 32nd Division, see Foch, Mémoires, :26–7; CT 5865, Commander-in-Chief to Foch, 27 October 94, 9:55 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3423. 89 Personal letter, French to Foch, n.d. (during the Battle of Ypres, 94, in French’s hand), AFF, Marshal French file; Weygand, Mémoires, :74–5; HGW (94), 2:348–9. 90 Letter, French to Kitchener, 3 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /36; cf. HGW (94), 2:348–9. 9 Foch, Mémoires, :27–8; Weygand, Mémoires, :7–2; HGW (94), 2:323–4; CT 567, Huguet to … GQG … 3 October [94], 0:2 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3632. 92 Foch, Journées, AFF, 5–6; the marginal date is incorrectly given as  November in this source. See Foch, Mémoires, :27–9; Weygand, Mémoires, :7–3; “Note on Relations between the English and French Staffs,” 3 October [94], AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3640. 93 Foch, Journées, AFF, 6–7; cf. Foch, Mémoires, :27–9; Weygand, Mémoires, :73. See “Note given to Marshal French,” Vlamertinghe, 3 October 94, 3:00 p.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (III), no. 3636 and notes, pp. 386–7; “Note for the British Army (given to General Wilson, British [Sub] Chief of Staff), 3 October [94], AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3637 and p. 387nn2, 3. 94 See HGW (94), 2:342–3, 358–9, and “The Battle of Ypres, 94 – st–4th November 94,” sketch 2, between pp. 348–9, 388–9. 95 Berthelot Diary, :20, 27 October 94; CT 5424, Commander-in-Chief to Foch, 25 October 94, :50 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3335; CT 5865, Commanderin-Chief to Foch, 27 October 94, 9:55 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3423. 96 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,”  November 94, 42. 97 Alexander, Avec Joffre, 76.

Notes to pages 72–6

253

98 See HGW (94), 2:73ff, 28–3, for an assessment of the topography around Ypres. 99 Foch, Journées, AFF, 7. 00 Ibid., 7; Weygand, Mémoires, :75; Foch, Mémoires, :224–5; letter, French to Kitchener, 3 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /36. De Broqueville, the Belgian Prime Minister, joined the group for dinner (see Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028) “Notes Journalières,”  November 94, 43; cf. Joffre, Mémoires, :447). 0 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 2 November 94, 45. 02 Foch, Journées, AFF, 5–6. 03 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 2 November 94; Foch, “Journées,” AFF, 8. 04 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5 November 94. 05 Foch, Journées, AFF, 8. 06 That Wilson was an unacceptable candidate to the British government is shown by its refusal on 20 December to accept him even as chief of staff because of his political conniving before the war (Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 24 December 94). 07 Foch, Journées, AFF, 8. 08 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5 November 94. 09 Ibid. 0 See Prete, “The Anglo-French Command Crisis of October–November 94,” 2–26.  See Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 477–9. 2 The tendencies of each and conflict within the staff are fully apparent from Wilson’s Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80,  August 94 – 30 January 95; see also Huguet, Britain and the War, 47. 3 See Berthelot Diary, , 6 November 94, for a characteristic anglophobic outburst of the subchief of staff. 4 Cited by Erickson, “Koalitsionaya Voina,” 8. 5 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 8 November 94. 6 Letter, Asquith to Stanley, 6 November 94, no. 205 in Asquith, Letters to Venetia, 3; letter, Asquith to French, 6 November 94, Asquith Papers, Bodleian Library, 46/02–3; letter, Churchill to French, 6 November 94, French Papers, IWM , 75/46/. 7 Letter (personal), French to Kitchener, 5 November 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /46. 8 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,”  November 94, 42. The French politicians were sufficiently concerned that they inquired through the diplomatic channel if Kitchener intended to discontinue the war. The French were reassured that “there is no hesitation here on the part of K. or anyone else about the War” (Cassar, Kitchener, 249, 505n54).

254

Notes to pages 76–80

9 Letter, Asquith to the King, 3 November 94, PRO , Cab 4/35/56 R /93; CT 986, Cambon to [French] Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 4 November 94, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” no. 534, p. 43. 20 Letter, Asquith to the King, 3 November 94, PRO , Cab 4 35/56 R /93. 2 Ibid; CT 986, Cambon to [French] Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 4 November 94, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” no. 534, p. 43. 22 Foch, Journées, AFF, 7–8; also Neilson, Strategy and Supply, 50. Cf. Holmes, The Little Field-Marshal, 253–4, who claims that “Kitchener guaranteed to have one million soldiers on French soil within 8 months,” rather than for  July 95, as indicated by Foch. 23 Foch, Mémoires, :225 24 t, George Pratt (Acton Town Council) to Winston S. Churchill, 7 September 94; Winston S. Churchill, message, 7 September 94 (Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :23). This portion of the message, however, was not sent in the final communication (ibid., 23n). 25 Holmes, The Little Field-Marshal, 272–33. 26 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 2 November 94, 45; Joffre, Mémoires, :44. 27 See Joffre, Mémoires, :44. 28 Foch, Journées, AFF, 9–4. 29 Berthelot Diary, :2, 28 October 94. 30 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,” 30 October 94, 36. 3 Berthelot Diary, :28, 3 November 94. See Poincaré, Au service, 5:43–6. 32 Berthelot Diary, :28, 3 November 94. 33 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5 November 94; Joffre, Mémoires, :482; Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 3 November 94; letter, Foch to Joffre, 5 November 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 9; cf. Danilov, La Russie, 36–7. 34 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,”  November 94, 43. 35 Berthelot Diary, :2ff, 28–9, 28 October, 2, 3 November 94. 36 Berthelot Diary, :220–5, 5–9 November 94. 37 Ibid., 0,  November 94, 226–8. 38 Letter, French to Kitchener, 3 October 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /36; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 4 November 94. 39 Berthelot Diary, :29, 4 November 94; tel. message 64, Commander-in-Chief to Foch, 3 November 94, AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3797; CT 724, Commanderin-Chief to Foch, 4 November 94, 8:30 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 3860. 40 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 4 November 94. 4 Alexandre, Avec Joffre, 5 November 94, 76. 42 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 5 November 94.

Notes to pages 80–7

43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 5 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

59

255

Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7, 8 November 94. Ibid.,  November 94. Ibid. Ibid. Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 0 November 94. Berthelot Diary, :226, 0 November 94. Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA ,  November 94. See ibid., 4 November 94 and below; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/ 80, 3 November 94. See below, pp. 89–96. See Foch, Mémoires, :253–4. HGW (94), 2:466–7. Edmonds, working from internal data at a later date, put losses from 4 October to 30 November at 58,55 (ibid., 466). Ibid., 465; cf. Clark, The Donkeys, ii, who claims correctly that the old professional army was “finally buried in 95.” Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 3 November 94. Herbillon, Souvenirs, :70. See Weygand, Mémoires, :45–6, 84–5; Foch, Mémoires, :239–40. Foch, Mémoires, :253–4, 240–, 68. He excluded the 7th Division of the IV Corps from his calculation, which, along with the Indian Division, equalled one more corps. Ibid., 245.

c h a p t e r e igh t

 Hackett, Profession of Arms, 49–50; cf. Cruttwell, The Great War, 06–9. 2 See King, Generals and Politicians, 34–5, 4–2, 67–88ff; also Poincaré, Au service, 6:8–9. 3 See Hankey, Supreme Command, :242–3. See Trumpener, 2–60, for the circumstances surrounding Turkish entry into the war. The Turks had already closed the straits in September, following the arrival of the Goeben and Breslau. 4 Lowe and Dockrill, The Mirage of Power, 2:85–6. 5 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:58, 28 November 94; Lowe and Dockrill, Mirage of Power, 2:83–6; Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 44. 6 Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 44. 7 For the events leading to a succession of weak ministries and Joffre’s fall from power at the end of 96, see King, Generals and Politicians, 34–9. 8 Poincaré Papers, “Notes Journalières,” vol. 39, BN , NAF (6030), 27 April, 25, 27, 29 May, 20 June 95; Prete, “Le conflit stratégique franco-britannique sur le front occidental et la conférence de Calais du 6 juillet, 95,” 25–6. 9 Hankey, Supreme Command, :233. 0 See Cassar, Kitchener, 259–60; Hankey, Supreme Command, :223–33, 237; Robbins, “Foreign Policy, Government Structure, and Public Opinion,” 533–54.

256

Notes to pages 87–90

 Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 34, 42; Hankey, Supreme Command, :237– 55; Cassar, Kitchener, 259–60ff; Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:64–75ff. For a critique of the War Cabinet, see Taylor, English History, 74–7. 2 Berthelot Diary, :232, 244–5 of 6, 22, 24 November 94. “Sidney Clive up & tells me Gen: Berthelot (the Fat Boy) has been ‘dégommé’d,’” wrote Wilson, humorously (Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 24 November 94). For a full discussion, see Torrey, Berthelot, 74–8. 3 Pichot-Duclos, Réflexions, 89, 93; Gamelin, Manoeuvre, 92–3, 62–6, 06–7, 8– 4; Joffre, Mémoires, :239–40, 379–86. 4 Berthelot Diary, :235, 7 November 94; note from Field Marshal French to Foch, 6 November 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 32; no. 835, Foch to GQG , 6 November 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 3. 5 Ibid. “To read the British press which is diffused in the entire world,” wrote Cambon to Foch on 3 November, “it would seem that the British Army were the only one in the field.” Cambon placed part of the blame for this situation on the reticence of the French staff (letter, Cambon to Foch, 3 November 94, AFF, file “Paul Cambon et F. Foch”). See Cambon’s similar complaint to Delcassé (letter, Cambon to Delcassé, 2 September 94, Delcassé Papers, AE , vol. 3, nos. 329–35). 6 Cairns, “A Nation of Shopkeepers in Search of a Suitable France, 99–940,” 7. 7 Nos. 3895, 3896, 403, Joffre to Foch, 7 November 94, AFGG , II A (I), nos. 38, 39, 42; Berthelot Diary, :235, 7 November 94. 8 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 8 November 94; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS / misc/80, 26 November 94. Clive put the lie on Joffre’s protestations that no French forces were available by reminding him of his earlier promise of support to Foch. (For Clive’s role, see Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 3 October, 5, 2–9 November 94.) 9 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 27 November 94; see AFGG , X (I), 5; cf. “Memorandum [of the 3rd Bureau] on the subject of relieving the VIII th Army by the English Army,” 2 December 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 426. 20 See Prete, “Coalition Warfare,” 497–8. 2 On the 97 crisis, see Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 2–2; King, Generals and Politicians, 43–4. For a sample of the conflict in 95, see no. 6365, letter, Joffre to French, 9 February 95, AFGG , II A (II), no. 927; memorandum 0a 63, French to Joffre, 23 February 95, AFGG , II A (I), no. 979; CT 2395, Joffre to Foch, 7 March 95, AFGG , III A (I), no. 6. Haig, Private Papers, 29–34ff, points out similar difficulties prior to the Battle of the Somme. 22 Weygand described Murray as “negation made man” (Weygand, Mémoires, :303); cf. Joffre, Mémoires, :422. 23 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80,  November 94. 24 Cf. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 28, 29 October 94, with Joffre’s message to Millerand on  November, cited below.

Notes to pages 90–2

257

25 CT 2345, Commander-in-Chief to Foch,  November 94, 0:40 a.m., AFGG , I (IV) A (IV), no. 477. 26 CT 2283, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, “Office-Personal,” “Confidential,”  November 94, 8:45 a.m., AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” I , no. 49. This message was communicated to Cambon in similar terms with but slight paraphrasing (CT 655, Minister of Foreign Affairs to French Ambassador, London, 2 November 94, 2:35 a.m., AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” I , no. 50). 27 CT 003, Cambon to Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, received 3 November 94, at 6:05, “Secret,” communicated to War [Ministry], 4/, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” I , no. 54. 28 Personal letter marked “Secret” in Sir John’s hand, to Kitchener, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /46. Sir John admitted that Murray had been sent to London on a short trip previously because he “was overstressed and overworked,” but claimed he “had been perfectly well since” and that “perfect confidence and understanding exists between us now” (ibid.). 29 Ibid.; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2 November 94. 30 Poincaré Papers, vol. 37, BN , NAF (6028), “Notes Journalières,”  December 94, 97–8; Foch, Journées, AFF, 2 December 94; Foch, Mémoires, :254–5; CT, Bertie to Grey, 3 December 94, Grey Papers, PRO , FO /800/55A /269. 3 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 4 December 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 6; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, , 6 December 94. 32 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 5, 6 December 94. 33 Letter, French to Kitchener, 7 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /57. 34 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7, 8 December 94. 35 Ibid., 24 December 94; also 9 December 94; Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:60 (diary entry of 20 December [94]); “I put some pressure on Sir John French to retain Murray (when he was at Walmer) or at any rate not to substitute Wilson for him. I fancy you spoke to him in the same sense,” wrote Asquith to Kitchener (letter, Asquith to Kitchener, 28 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/76 WR /8). 36 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:60 (diary entry of 20 December [94]); Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 24 December 94; see letter, French to Kitchener, 24 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /58. 37 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 6 December 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 5; CT 82, Foch to Joffre, 7 December 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 379; cf. CT 3857, Huguet to Joffre, 6 December 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 367. 38 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 2 December 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 8; CT 4044, Joffre to Foch, 6 December 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 366.

258

Notes to pages 92–3

39 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 December 94; letter, Foch to Joffre, 9 December 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 7 (reproduced in AFGG , II A (I), no. 407); no. 4834, Joffre to Foch, 9 December 94, AG , 6N 905, “Ordres et instructions relatifs aux opérations,” dos. 24, doc. 256 (in AFGG , II A (I), no. 406). 40 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:6 (diary entry of 28 December [94]). Letter, Bertie to Grey, 26 December 94, Bertie Papers, PRO , WO /800/66 no. 008; letter, Bertie to Grey, 27 December 94, Grey Papers, PRO , FO /800/ 55A /289–94. 4 Letter, Bertie to Grey, 26 December 94, Bertie Papers, PRO , WO /800/66 no. 08; letter, Bertie to Grey, 27 December 94, Grey Papers, PRO , FO /800/ 55A /289–94; Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:6 (diary entry of 28 December [94]). 42 Letter, Bertie to Grey, 26 December 94, Bertie Papers, PRO , WO /800/66 no. 08; letter, Bertie to Grey, 27 December 94, Grey Papers, PRO , FO /800/55A / 289–94. Rumours had been rife since Sir John’s trip to London on 2–23 December that Wilson was to replace Murray, and Wilson ironically had received congratulations from none other than Sir Edward Grey on 23 December while his appointment was still being considered (Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS / misc/80, 23 December 94). Bertie, having learned from Lambton on their return trip from London, on 22 December, that Wilson’s appointment was in the wind, shared the rumour with Cambon, who passed it on to other French figures (CT, Delcassé to Millerand, 27 December 94, AE , série “Guerre 94–98,” no. 534; letter, Bertie to Grey, 26 December 94, Bertie Papers, PRO , WO /800/66 no. 08). 43 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:6 (diary entry of 28 December [94]); letter, Asquith to Kitchener, 28 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/76 WR /8; cf. Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 30 December 94, in which Wilson reported Sir John’s observation “that K & Asquith were angry” with the French. For want of having consulted French sources and Anglo-French diplomatic archives, Keith Jeffery, Wilson’s most recent biographer, writes: “There is actually not much evidence that Wilson systematically ‘intrigued’ either against Murray or on behalf of himself” (Jeffery, Wilson, 43). 44 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 29 December 94; letter, Cambon to Kitchener, 30 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49. See Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:6. 45 Letter, Bertie to Grey, 26 December 94, Bertie Papers, PRO , WO /800/66 no. 08; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 28 December 94. 46 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 29 December 94. 47 Letter, French to Kitchener, 29 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /6. 48 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 27, 28 December 94; cf. letter, Bertie to Grey, 28 December 94, PRO , Grey Papers, FO /800/55A /302–3.

Notes to pages 93–5

259

49 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:65 (diary entry of 3 December [94]). On 28 December 94, Churchill wrote Sir John French recommending Haig for the post (letter, Churchill to French, 28 December 94, in Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :335). 50 CT 46, Joffre to Foch, 5 January 95, 9:30 a.m., AG , 6N 676, “Ordres et instructions relatifs aux opérations,” dos. no. 25, doc. no. 2259. 5 CT 8867, Foch to Staff, Chantilly, 5 January 95, at 3:0 p.m., AG , 6N 905, no. 2. 52 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 5 January 95, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 25. 53 Letter, CT 466, Commander-in-Chief to War, 6 January 95, AG , 6N 676, “Ordres et instructions relatifs aux opérations,” dos. no. 25, doc. no. 2283 bis. 54 See letter, Millerand to Kitchener, 2 March 95, Millerand Papers, BN , box 20; 5682, Commander-in-Chief to Minister of War, 30 July 95, Fond Buat, AG , 6N 7, dos: “Correspondance relative á la nouvelle formule de commandement des forces alliée sur le front occidental.” 55 See Wilson Diaries, vol. 6, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 July 95. 56 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 2 January 95. 57 Millerand’s handwritten account of his trip to London, 2 January 95, BN , Millerand Papers, box 20. On 0 January 95, Asquith noted in his diary that he thought both Kitchener and Churchill “agree to advise French to take Haig in place of Murray” (Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:65). 58 Letter, French to Kitchener, 23 January 95, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/50 WA /70; letter, Lambton to Kitchener, 25 January 95, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/50 WA /7. 59 Letter, French to Kitchener, 25 January 95, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/50 WA /72. Nine months later, however, when Kitchener inquired about the possibility of Murray’s assuming a command in France, as Sir John had advised for a later date, Sir John was again of the opinion that “his health would not stand the strain” (letters, Murray to Kitchener, 2 July 95, Kitchener to French, 4 September 95, French to Kitchener, 4 September 95, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/50 WA /0, 23, 26; cf. French, 94, 08, who cites the breakdown of Murray’s health as the sole reason for his recall). 60 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:69 (diary entry of 26 January [95]); Haig, Private Papers, 26 January [95], 85. 6 Joffre, Mémoires, :422. 62 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 26 January 95, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 30. 63 Haig, Private Papers, 3 January [95], 85; HGW (95), :363. Clark (The Donkeys, 3) erroneously claims that Wilson retained his position as subchief of the General Staff. 64 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 26 January 95, “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. 30. 65 Haig, Private Papers, 26 January [95], 85.

260

Notes to pages 95–9

66 See Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 20, 2 February 95; Clark, The Donkeys, 32. 67 See DeWeerd, “Churchill, Lloyd George, Clemenceau,” 298–9. 68 Clive Diaries, II /I , KCMA , 3 January, 8 February 95. 69 See Clark, The Donkeys, 3. 70 Ibid. See Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 95 passim. 7 There is no hint in the documents of Joffre having been involved in the events leading to Sir John’s recall at the end of 95. 72 Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 05–7, 4–20. 73 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 9 November 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. . For an English translation, see Foch, Memoirs, 80–3. Foch expected the Germans to withdraw to a more defensible line. 74 Weygand, Mémoires, :209. 75 Letter, Foch to Joffre, 9 November 94, AG , “Correspondance Foch (0 October 94 – 2 January 96),” no. . 76 Tactical innovation, under tight control at GQG , proceeded with some circumspection (see Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 20–4). 77 Berthelot Diary, :238–9, 20, 2, 22 November 94; T, Joffre to Foch, 20 November 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 67; CT, Foch to Joffre, 20 November 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 68. 78 Letters, French to Kitchener, , 3 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/ 49 WA /5–2. 79 Kitchener to Grey for transmission to Buchanan, British Ambassador in Russia, 4 October 94, cited in Keith E. Neilson, “Kitchener, Russia, and British Strategy, 94–95” (unpublished paper courtesy of the author, 979), 3. See above for Kitchener’s continued fear on  November of a German landing in Great Britain. 80 Joffre, Mémoires, 2:–2. 8 Letters, French to Kitchener, , 3 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/ 49 WA /5–2. 82 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 7 December 94; cf. CT 530, Joffre to Foch, 7 December 94, AFGG , II A (II), no. 266; AFGG , II , 243; letter, Yarde Buller to Kitchener, 0 December 94, Kitchener Office Papers, PRO , WO / 59/9. 83 Falkenhayn, General Headquarters, 34–5; see Cruttwell, The Great War, 79–92, for an account of the campaign in Poland. 84 Poincaré Papers, “Notes Journalières,” vol. 38, BN , NAF (6029),  January 95. 85 Ibid., 9 January 95. According to Herbillon, Joffre threatened to resign rather than countenance a diversion (Herbillon, Souvenirs, vol. , 9 January 95). 86 See Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, 53–5. 87 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 6–8, 0 December 94; cf. Cassar, Kitchener, 26.

Notes to pages 99–20

26

88 CT 228/g, Guerre to Joffre, 9 December 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 29. Joffre simply deferred discussion of the question until after the planned attack (no. 2234, Joffre to Minister of War, 0 December 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 303). 89 Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 8 December 94. 90 Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 45. For an account of this operation, see HGW (95), :3–22. 9 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:60 (diary entry of 22 December [94]). 92 Cassar, Kitchener, 26–2; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 9 December 94. 93 Letters, Churchill to Asquith, 7 December 94; Asquith to Churchill, 7 December 94, Asquith Papers, 3, Bodleian Library, pp. 234–5. 94 Letter, Kitchener to Churchill, 8 December 94 (not sent), Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :33–4; letter, Kitchener to French, 8 [December 94], French Papers, IWM , 75/46/. 95 Letter, Asquith to Churchill, 8 December 94, Asquith Papers, 3, Bodleian Library, pp. 237–8. 96 Letter, Churchill to Kitchener, 9 December 94, Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :34–5. 97 On 8 December, Asquith wrote to Venetia Stanley: “I wrote to Winston as we agreed adding what you suggested about the possibility of concerting naval & military actions here at home. He has just been to see me, very sore & angry with K, upon whom he poured a kettle-full of opprobrious epithets. Of course he acquiesced in the decision, and will not go to Dunkirk till to-morrow, if even he goes then …” (letter, Asquith to Stanley, “Fr. aft. 8 Dec’ 4[i],” Asquith, Letters to Venetia, 329. 98 Neilson, “Kitchener, Russia, and British Strategy, 94–95,” 5–6. 99 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:63 (diary entry of 27 December [94]). 00 Letter, French to Kitchener, 28 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /60; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 27 December 94; CT 6967, Joffre to Foch, 28 December 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 49. The extension of the BEF to the sea was dependent on a scheme to incorporate the Belgian army into the BEF, which the Belgian king rejected (letter, French to Kitchener, 28 December 94, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/49 WA /60; Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 28, 3 December 94, 2 January 95.) Sir John then asked for an additional 50 battalions from Kitchener, but these were rejected in the War Council of 3 January, knocking out Sir John’s hope of an offensive along the Belgian coast (Wilson Diaries, vol. 5, IWM , DS /misc/80, 2, 6 January 95.) 0 “Memorandum [of the 3rd Bureau] relative to the relief of the VIII th Army by the English Army,” 2 December 94, enclosed with no. 5499, Joffre to Foch, 2 December 94, AFGG , II A (I), no. 426. 02 See memorandum, Churchill to Asquith, 29 December 94, in Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :343; cf. Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:62–3 (diary entries of 29, 3 December [94]).

262

Notes to pages 202–3

03 See Cassar, Kitchener, 268; Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 44–5; Cruttwell, The Great War, 32–3. 04 Lowe and Dockrill, Mirage of Power, 2:xii. 05 Letter, Fisher to Churchill, 9 January 95, letter, Churchill to Fisher and Oliver, 20 January 95, in Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :399–400, 432–3; Cassar, The French and the Dardanelles, 5–9. 06 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:6–2 (diary entry of 29 December [94]); see Lieutenant-Colonel Hankey, memorandum, 28 December 94; Winston S. Churchill to H.H. Asquith, 29 December 94, in Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :337–45. 07 Cassar, Kitchener, 260. 08 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:62 (diary entry of 29 December [94]). 09 Ibid., 64 (diary entry of  January [95]); David Lloyd George, memorandum, 3 December 94, in Gilbert, Churchill, 3, Companion, :350–6. 0 Asquith, Memories and Reflections, 2:62, 64 (diary entries of 29, 3 December [94],  January [95]).  Cassar, Kitchener, 268. 2 Letter, Kitchener to French, 2 January 95, Kitchener Papers, PRO , 30 57/50 WA /64. 3 For Allied political-military relations in 95, see Cassar, The French and the Dardanelles and Kitchener, 266–330; King, Generals and Politicians, 67–88; Guinn, British Strategy and Politics, 48–8.

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index

Page numbers in italics refer to photographs aerial reconnaissance (British), 07 affaire des fiches, 28 Agadir crisis (9), 27, 3, 34, 35 Aisne, 99–0, 03, 05; Battle of, 68; and relocation of bef, 2–2, 49– 50, 53–4, 209 Albert I of Belgium, 69; Foch meets with (6 Oct), 40–, 57; French ministerial visit with (2 Nov), 78 Algeria, 0, ; in French grand strategy, 75; troops from, 79 Allenby, Edmund, 53, 80 Allied conferences, 94 Alsace, 80, 8, 00 Alsace-Lorraine, 4 Amiens, 98, 99, 00, 0; as staging area for bef, 82, 84, 85, 86, 87–8 André, Louis, 28 Anglo-French coalition, recent analysis of, xiv–xv Anglo-French conjoining of troops, 63, 66, 72, 75; division-by-division engagement (Antwerp), 28– 30, 52, 53–4, 59, 66 Anglo-French lack of command arrangements, 39, 70, 29, 37, 75,

85, 20–; and prewar relationship, 26–7. See also defence policy (Britain); defence policy (France) Annales school of history, xiii Antwerp, xvi; Anglo-French clash over, 29–33, 34–5, 37–8, 208; Anglo-French failure at, 38–40; in Belgian defence plan, 22; British Cabinet and navy strategy for, 68, 25; British political repercussions, 38–40; evacuation of, 33, 35; German bombardment of (94), 24, 9, 23; Millerand on the citadel, 52. See also Belgium Ardennes offensive, 37, 78, 80–, 93, 95, 232n25; defeat, 97 Army Council (Britain). See Imperial General Staff (Britain) Asquith, Herbert H., 63; blamed French for Antwerp, 39; competition over Belgium, 44; on crisis of communication with French, 09; defence of Channel, 24–5; French language, 7; and Irish Question, 35–6, 57–8; Joffre’s request to replace Sir John, 74–5; lack of

286

formal commitment to France, 9, 76; and navy strategy, 7; new war strategy (end 94), 86–7, 202; at outbreak of war, 59, 60; War Council, 8–2; and Wilson, 32, 73, 75, 9, 226n07. See also government (Britain) Austrian mobilization against Serbia, 78 Balfour, Arthur, 87 Balkans: crisis (908–09), 5; and peripheral Anglo-French strategy, 84–5, 98–9, 20–2 Balkan Wars (92–3), 6 Bar-le-Duc, 37 Battle of Guise (29 Aug), 04, 05; Anglo-French cooperation, 06–7, 209 Battle of Le Cateau, 00, 0–6, 209, 2; a foolhardy adventure, 02 Battle of the Aisne. See Aisne Battle of the Falklands, 85 Battle of the Frontiers (94), 5, 54–5; bad French planning for, 2; French and German forces compared, 95; Joffre strategy after defeat at, 99–0; lack of Allied coordination, 96–9 Battle of the Marne, 6, 0, 55; and British participation, 209; British press coverage of, 88; communication of Allies in, 08, 2–4, 7–8; and French offensive doctrine, 30; Joffre as Victor of, 22; Joffre orders attack, 4–5; Joffre’s appeal to Sir John at Melun, 5–7, 209; Kitchener’s role in, 09, 2; renewal of French leadership and, 57; revisions on date of attack, 5; Seine plan, 08, –2, 3–4; troops by rail, 79 Battle of the Somme, xvi, 68

Index

Battle of Ypres (first), 6, 2; British losses at, 8; conjoining of Allied troops, 66, 72; as equal between French and British, 83; German offensive as first step in, 59; importance of holding, 72; and promise of New Armies, 208 Becker, Jean-Jacques, 48 Belfort, 37 Belgium: Anglo-French competition over, 43–6, 48, 59, 28n95, 220n5, 246n23; Anglo-French disagreement over, 20, 32; in British defence policy, 9–20, 2–4, 33, 34– 5, 99; and British support of war, 72, 76–7; contribution to Marne, 26; and France attack toward Bruges, 58–60; French Command relationship with, 99; French defence of, 78–9; in French defence policy, 24, 25; French launch across, 74; French plans for, 28n95; French relationship with government, 78, 247n39; French request to command army, 40; French surprise at German invasion, 80; neutrality of, 2–4, 36, 58–9, 76; planning for German attack through, 37, 39, 43; in Plan xvi , 36; in Plan xvii , 22; predictions of German sweep of, 93, 220n5, 227n23; request for help, 26–7; retreat of army, 37, 42–3, 57; suspicious of Entente cordiale, 34. See also Antwerp Belin, Emile, 53–4, 80, 5 Berlin-Baghdad railway, 6 Berthelot, Henri, 00, 0; Antwerp strategy, 80, 29–30, 3; bef move north, 52; and British need for relief (Ypres), 8; dismissed from gqg , 87–8, 203; and German wireless code, 07; Joffre orders attack (Marne), 5; opinion of

Index

British, 4, 87, 04, 74, 87–8; power struggle with Third Bureau, 54–5; relationship with Belgians, 78; relationship with British counterparts, 53, 93; and Seine plan, 3; and size of British force, 85; structure of High Command, 53–5. See also High Command (France) Bertie, Francis, 08 Bismarckian system, 4 Björkö talks (905), 5 “blue water school,” 7, 68, 20, 24, 99, 20 Boer War, 4, 7, 60 Bond, Brian, 98 Bottomley, Horatio, 67 Boulanger Affair, 28 Boulogne, 39, 98, 9, 24, 30, 3, 35; British proposal of entrenched camp at, 55, 59–60 Bray-sur-Seine consultation, 4, 5 Briand, Aristide, 84, 98 British army. See British Expeditionary Force (bef) British Cabinet: and Balkans, 85; British Command in agreement with, 22; in clash of strategies over Antwerp, 3–3, 38; navy strategy for Antwerp, 68, 25; retained power over British Command, 45, 59–60, 08–9, –2; sea power as strategy for Western Front deadlock (end 94), 20–2. See also government (Britain) British Command: Belgium and Anglo-French competition, 40–6; Cabinet, in agreement with, 22; Cabinet retained power, 45, 59–60, 08–9, –2; civil-military relations and Murray, 95–6; conflict, internal, 80; conflict in relationship with French (Aisne),

287

2–2; conflict with French after Le Cateau, 03; conflict with French strategy, 47–8; conflict with French strategy (fielding bef), 90–, 97–8; continental defence commitment, 75–6; continental defence commitment changes, 204; cooperation with French after Guise, 06–7; crisis of communication with French, 08–9, –2, 85; crisis over request to move bef north, 49–50, 208; on deploying bef to protect Channel, 22–3; Foch and, 50–4, 52–3, 62–3; French Command relationship with, 70; Front strategy (end 94), 98; Joffre-Sir John meeting (26 Aug), 00–, 03, 209; (29 Aug), 05, 209; (5 Sept), 5–7, 209; (5 Oct), 29, 209; (2 Oct), 59, 209; Joffre’s request to replace Sir John, 73–4; Le Cateau and, 02–6; Lille march and dynamics of, 55, 57–8; Marne and communication, 7–8; Marne preparation, 3–4; Murray’s recall, 89–96; officer shortage, 57, 58, 80, 8; opinion of French, 4–2; reinforcements request to French, 76; relationship with French lacking structure, 39–40, 75; Sir John’s relationship with, 57–8, 62–3; Ypres, appeal for relief after, 79–8; Ypres and French troops under, 64; Ypres and Sir John, 62–3; Ypres length of battle line, 63, 25n83. See also French, John (Sir John); Kitchener, Horatio Herbert British Empire: and British defence policy, 6–7, 2; conventions with Russia (907), 5; defended by the navy, 4; and revised war strategy (end 94), 203; war strategy to

288

defend, 207; wartime resources from, , 2, 2, 22, 23, 58, 6 British Expeditionary Force (bef): in 9 plans, 33; and Admiralty flying wing, 6; and Anglo-French relationship, 92; Cabinet power over, 59; competition with New Armies, 68; concern for safety of, 82, 84–5, 06; continental deployment as last resort, 76; deployment discussions (9–3), 34–5; deployment on Continent of, 5, 9, 2; divided between offensive and defensive, 30; extension to the sea, 26n00; French assumption of mobilization of, 8; French concern of arrival date, 79; French friction about deployment of, 74; French relief at deployment of, 90; French request for division-by-division engagement, 28–30, 52, 53, 55; Joffre and, 3; Kitchener’s relationship with, 62, 68; Kitchener’s instructions for, 69–70; planning concentration on French left (93), 39; plan to move north of, 2–3, 5–4, 208; in Plan xvii , 37; press reports of, 67; to be reorganized into two armies, 9; safe line of retreat for, 69–70, 98, 04–5, 57, 59; timing of mobilization consequences, 80–, 84; as vulnerable to German forces, 87, 98; War Councils to deploy, 8–5. See also New Armies (Britain) British grand strategy: clash with French over Antwerp, 208; in direct conflict with French, 203; European war only one component of, 207 British press, 88, 225n94, 256n5 Buller, Yarde, 76, 88 Burns, John, 59

Index

Caillaux, Joseph, 8, 46–7; British fear of, 42 Calais, 24–5, 30, 3, 40, 43, 44, 55; German drive on, 42, 74, 83; importance to French of, 45, 59 Cambon, Paul, 5, 67; appeals to British interests, 76; on British non-commitment, 76; on British press, 88, 225n94, 256n5; on replacement of Murray, 90, 92; and request for Sir John’s recall, 60, 72 Cambrai–Le Cateau line, 02 Campbell-Bannerman, Henry, 5 Cassel-Béthune line, 54 Castelnau, Édouard de Curières de, 29, 40 Catholicism, 28 Champagne attack, 98 Channel: and attack on Antwerp, 23, 32–3, 208; and British defence strategy, 9–20, 22, 99; and British forces on French left wing, 32–3; British naval defence of French ports, 76; Churchill’s defence of, 24–5; and French control of Belgium, 46; French failure to defend, 24, 68 Chantilly meeting (Joffre and Sir John), 20 Charleroi, 95, 97 Cherbourg, 33, 98 Churchill, Winston S.: Antwerp clash of strategies, 3–2; Antwerp evacuation, 33; Antwerp failure, 38–40; bef deployment, 34; and “blue water school,” 24, 99; Channel defence, 22–3, 24–5, 27; concentration of power, 59; on crisis of communication with French, 09; as First Lord of the Admiralty, 9; on imperial interests, 6; and Kitchener, 6–2, 200, 26n97; Lille

Index

march, 55; and Murray, 93; on War Council, 87; on Western Front strategy, 202 class: in British military hierarchy, 32; and British opinion of French officers, 75; of French and British officers, 40–; in French military hierarchy, 28 colonialism. See British Empire; French Empire Committee of Imperial Defence (cid), 7, 9; army and naval conflicting strategies, 34; on defining relationship with French, 39; relationship with Kitchener, 60, 6; War Council superseding, 86–7 Compiègne, 05, 64 Congress of Vienna, 2 Conseil supérieur de la défense nationale (Superior Council of National Defence), 22, 28–9; 92 meetings of,  Conseil supérieur de la guerre (War Board), 27, 28 continental defence, Britain’s commitment to, 35, 75–6, 20, 75–6; change in, 204; continental deployment of bef, 5, 9, 2, 76; as limited, 207–8; and the navy, 34; and New Armies, 208; as primary focus, xiii Corbett, Julian, 7 Courtrai, 3, 37, 42, 54, 59, 6–3 Dallas, A.G., 27 d’Amade, Albert, 00, 02 Dardanelles, xvi, 87, 202, 204 de Broqueville, Charles, 23, 253 December (94) offensive, 9, 200– Defence of the Realm Act (Britain 94), 60 defence policy (Britain): army in, 7; becomes Entente military plan-

289

ning, 26–7; Belgium in, 9–20, 2–4, 24–5, 33, 99; in context of imperial defence, 6–7; and English Channel, 20, 9–20, 22; forced to cooperate with French, 20; French attempts to engage, 9; of isolation, 4; navy in, 7, 9–2; in transition prior to war, 2, 3–4, 20–. See also government (Britain) defence policy (France): becomes Entente military planning, 26–7; Belgium in, 2–4, 25; and differences with Britain, 9–20; drawing British in, 2; long-term value of alliances of, 3–6; navy’s role in, 9–2; offensive strategy, 5, 30. See also government (France) Delcassé, Théophile, 6, 8, 5; on British non-commitment to France, 76; on replacement of Murray, 93 democracy: in Britain at outbreak of war, 59; character of French, 45–6; French deputies at outbreak of war, 48–9; French government moves to Bordeaux, 52; and outbreak of war, 44–5, 72. See also government (Britain); government (France) Deprez, General, 53 deserters, 00 d’Esperey, Louis Franchet, 2–3, 7–8, 20 Dixmude, 37, 43 Douai plains, 22 Doughty, Robert A., xiv Dreadnought Revolution, 0, 5 Dreyfus Affair, 28 Dubail, Auguste, 5 Dunkirk, 24–5, 3, 239–40n26; and British, French, Belgian feud, 44–5; conference over Sir John’s command, 72–4 du Picq, Charles Ardant, 27

290

d’Urbal, Victor, 62, 80, 9 Duroselle, Jean-Baptiste, 8 “easterner-westerner” strategic debate, xiii, 203 East Prussia, 29, 75, 99 Egypt, 8, 4, 85 Entente cordiale: after 9 Moroccan crisis, 26–7; attempts to solidify (9), 35; as basis of wartime cooperation, 3, 42, 208–9; Belgian suspicions of, 23, 34; as focus of debate, xiii–xiv; French dependence on, 2; German challenge of, 5; limits to, 9; and naval arrangements, , 32; and Russia, 5; signing of (904), 8, 4 Entente military planning: defence policy becomes, 26–7; role of domestic politics in, 42–3; shortcomings of, 43 Etienne, Eugène, 49 Ewart, Spencer, 35, 58 Falkenhayn, Erich von, 23, 97 Ferdinand, Franz, 47, 58 Fère-en-Tardenois, 22, 29 Fisher, John, 87 Flanders, 9–2, 96–7 Foch, Ferdinand, 2, 3, 27, 67, 70; as Allied commander-in-chief, 75; as Allied coordinator, 50–4; in Antwerp strategy, 34; Belgium and France attack toward Bruges, 58–60; commanders decorated by George V, 90–; command style, 5; competition over Belgium, 4–4, 45–6, 48, 246n23; expectation of a short war, 78; on fighting with British, 66, 72; invested with a kcb , 9; and King Albert, 78; knowledge of English language,

Index

7; Lille and Sir John, 58; Lille march strategy, 54, 55, 57–8; and Murray, 90–; opinion of British, 4, 20; and Sir John, 58, 83; Sir John and Joffre, 73–4; Sir John suggests retreat (Ypres), 65–6; and trench warfare, 96–7; and Wilson, 40; Ypres analysis, 83; Ypres and support of British, 63–4. See also High Command (France) French, David, xiii, 42, 62 French, John (Sir John), 9, 58, 65, 67; Antwerp and Joffre, 28–9, 35; Antwerp clash over strategies, 30–2; Belgium and Anglo-French competition, 43–4, 59; command style, 69–7, 74; crisis of communication with French, 08–9; decision making latitude of, xv–xvi; on deploying bef to protect Channel, 22–3; on deployment of the bef, 34–5, 82, 84, 88; and Foch, 5–2, 52–4, 65–6; and French counterparts, 40, 92–4, 94–5; on French reinforcements, 64–5; frontier defeats, 96, 97–8; and Guise, 05–6; Haig replaces, 7, 77; Joffre, first meeting with, 89–90, 209; Joffre and strategy meeting (Dec 94), 20; and Joffre relationship, 47; on Joffre’s Antwerp strategy, 28–9, 35; Joffre’s appeal to at Melun, 5–7, 209; Joffre’s request to replace, 59–60, 73–4; and Kitchener (Antwerp failure), 39–40; and Kitchener relationship, 6–2, 69, –2, 29; lack of knowledge of French language, 7, 92, 94; and Lanrezac relationship, 00–, 2, 75; and Le Cateau, 02–6; and Lille failure, 57–8, 59–60; and Lille march, 54–5,

Index

57–8; and Marne, 7–8; Murray and Wilson, 63–4; and Murray’s recall, 90–6; need for officers, 68, 80; opinion of French Command, 89, 06; Poincaré, assessment of, 92; and Robertson relationship, 96; Robertson to replace Murray, 94–6; on split command, 29, 37, 40; on strategic reappraisal (end 94), 99–20; three-cornered power struggle, 70; underestimating capacity of troops, 05; at Ypres, influences on, 63; Ypres and need for relief, 79–80; Ypres and renewed confidence, 6–2; Ypres and retreat, 65–6; Ypres and support from Foch, 63–4. See also British Command French and German forces compared, 95 French army. See High Command (France) French Cabinet. See government (France) French Command. See High Command (France) French Empire: Franco-Italian accords, 8, 9; rivals in, 8; wartime resources from, 9–0, 2, 3 French Foreign Legion, 0 French General Staff. See High Command (France) French government: adjust to long war, 204; Anglo-French military relations, 205; Antwerp clash of strategies, 3, 38; appeals to British interests, 76; and Belgian relationship, 26–7, 247n39; and Britain joining war on, 77; and military relationship, 84–5, 209; and poor war results (end 94), 85–6; and replacement of Murray,

29

94; role in Joffre-Sir John relationship, 72–4; strategic review of war (end of 94), 98–9, 204–5. See also defence policy (France); democracy French grand strategy: as adapting to British, 209; allies’ role in, 77, 208–9; and Belgium, 28n95; dependence on British of, 8, 20; in direct conflict with British, 203; and frontier battles, 96–9; schedule d, 80; and trench warfare, 96–7; value of alliances of, 3–6; after Ypres, 84–5 French left wing: after Battle of Le Cateau, 03; after defeat at the frontiers, 99–00; and bef deployment, 84, 87–90; British interests in, 32–3; dangers for British in, 34; and German invasion of Belgium, 74, 79; Joffre strengthening for, 79. See also Battle of the Frontiers (94) Galbert, Captain, 5 Galicia, 6 Gallieni, Joseph, 29, 2; claimed Marne victory, 5; communication with British, 7–8; preparation for Marne, 3–4 Gallipoli, 202, 203 Gamelin, Maurice, 54, 55, 00; on Berthelot’s dismissal from gqg , 87; Joffre orders attack (Marne), 5; opinion of British, 4 George V, 76, 68, 69; exchange of decorations, 8, 90– German Command: attack on Antwerp, 23; compared to French, 57; early 95 strategy, 97–8 German Naval Law (92), 0, 5–6, 7, 35 German reserve units, 30, 00; French intelligence of, 37

292

Germany: breakdown in intelligence of, 07; Britain declares war on, 77; decision to build navy by, 4–5; in East Prussia, 6; France withdraws from border (July 94), 76, 78; French ten-kilometre no-trespass zone, 46, 47, 78, 209; frontier battles victory, 95; growing strength of defensive of, 58; Le Cateau strategy, 03; seeking British neutrality, 35; threatening Channel ports, 58–9; troop numbers for attack on Antwerp, 27; underestimated by Allies, 00, 05; Yser bridgehead, 6; Yser offensive, 79; Yser retreat, 43 Gheluvelt, 65 government (Britain): adjusts to long war, 204; and Antwerp defence, 27; civil-military relations and Murray, 95–6; commitment to continental defence, 76–7, 204; and joint command relations, 205; pull of global strategy (end 94), 203; response to war losses (end 94), 86–7; strategic review of war (end 94), 99–203, 204–5; strategy to free Channel ports (end 94), 99–200. See also Asquith, Herbert H.; British Cabinet; defence policy (Britain); politics, domestic (Britain) government (France): Cabinet and poor war results (end 94), 85–6; Cabinet power to military, 45, 48–9, 86; easterners’ disagreement with military, 85. See also defence policy (France); Poincaré, Raymond; politics, domestic (France); War Ministry (France)) Grandmaison, Louis Loyseau de , 27 Grand quartier général (gqg ), 53, 97; Anglo-French division-by-division

Index

engagement, 28–30, 52, 53–4, 59, 66; atmosphere at, 56, 89, 93; and Belgium, 32, 4, 57; Berthelot’s dismissal from, 87; internal disputes of, 87–8; Marne preparation, 2–4; response to British appeal for relief, 79–8; Third Bureau, 53–5, 80, 87, 00, 4, 72, 87. See also High Command (France) Great Retreat, 55, 56, 57, 92 Greenhalgh, Elizabeth, xiv Grey, Edward (Sir), 202; and Antwerp strategy, 3; on Britain’s lack of commitment to war, 73, 76; on control of the seas, 6; crisis of communication with French, 08–9; defence of Channel, 24; on entering the war, 58; and Murray’s recall, 94; relationship with Kitchener, 6; on War Council, 87 Guesde, Jules, 5 Haig, Douglas, 67, 7; and French counterparts, 40; French troops under command of, 64; and Le Cateau, 02, 04; at march on Lille, 58; and Murray’s recall, 93, 94; Sir John replacement, 7, 77 Haldane, Richard, , 6; 92 talks with Germany, 35; reforms to army, 7 Hamilton, Ian, 23, 49, 73, 20 Hankey, Maurice, 87, 202 Hay-Pauncefote Treaty (90), 4 Herbillon, Emile, 54 Hesse, André, 49 High Command (France): Agadir crisis, 27; Amiens as British choice, 87–8; Anglo-French front (end 94), 99–200; Antwerp and Churchill’s mission, 32; Antwerp clash of strategies, 30–2; on bef plan to move north, 22, 209;

Index

Belgian army and command of, 40; and Belgian relations, 99; Belgium and Anglo-French competition, 40–6, 28n95, 220n5; Belgium defence, 78–9; Britain and initial perceptions, 90; Britain and lack of command structure, 39–40, 75; Britain and unified command, 39, 94; on Britain joining war, 77, 80–; and British Command changes, 89–96; British command distrust, 50; British delays, 85–6; British force size, 85–6; on British independence, 93–4; British reinforcements request, 76; and British relations, 52, 55; and British stereotypes, 88, 89; British stereotypes (as slow), 55, 87, 9, 94, 50, 74, 2; Cabinet delegated power to, 45, 48–9, 86 (see also government (France)); Channel ports defence, 24–5; conflict in relationship with British, 9–2, 97–8, 85; conflict in relationship with British (Aisne), 2–2; conflict with British after Le Cateau, 03; conflict with British over Belgium, 27; conflict with British strategy, 47–8; conflict with government over Belgium, 26–7; cooperation with British after Guise, 06; crisis of communication with British, 06–7, 08–9, –2; on deserters, 00; and Flanders, 9–2; and German wireless code, 07; and government support, 52–3; Joffre restructuring, 30–; and King Albert, 78; Lille and failure of British, 5; Lille failure and Sir John, 59–60; mandate of power given to, 48–52, 78; manpower shortage of, 3; Marne and Joffre orders attack, 4–5; Marne communication issues, 7–8;

293

number of active troops, 3; and Plan xvii , 36; and poor war results (end 94), 85–6; readjustments at end of 94, 87–9; renewal of French leadership, 57; republicanizing of, 27–8; and reserve units, 30; sea power as underappreciated, 32; Sir John-Joffre meeting (26 Aug), 00–, 03, 209; structure of, 53–4; Ypres and lack of troops, 8. See also Berthelot, Henri; Foch, Ferdinand; Grand quartier général (gqg ); Joffre, Joseph J.-C. historical reinterpretations, xiii–xv Hooge Castle, 65 Horn, Martin, xiv Howard, Michael, xiii Huguet, Victor, 00; British and failed communication, 83–4, 86; British and French strategy, 88; and British counterparts, 40; on British personality, 4; knowledge of English language, 7; and Le Cateau, 03, 04; Lille failure and Sir John, 58 imperial defence: as primary focus, xiii Imperial General Staff (Britain), 7, 9, 34, 60–; Army Council, 7, 60, 6 income tax (France), 46 industrial and economic mobilization, 9–0,  Irish Question, 35–6, 57–8, 59, 84, 73, 226n07 Italy, 8, 9, 75 Japan, 4, 5 Jaurès, Jean, 48 Jaurès Socialists, 28, 47 Jevons, Brian A., 52 Joffre, Joseph J.-C., 66, 67, 70; and Agadir crisis, 27; Antwerp and conflict with government, 33–4;

294

Antwerp and division-by-division engagement, 28–30, 52; Antwerp and Sir John, 35; Antwerp clash of strategies, 30–2; Antwerp failure, 39; appeal to political channels by, 08–9, 50, 52, 90, 209; bef expectations, 30–; on bef move north, 23; and Belgian neutrality, 22; Belgium and Anglo-French competition, 44–5; Berthelot dismissed, 87–8, 203; and British ambiguities, 36–7; British and staff opinion of, 4; British army relations, 40; on British at Ypres, 8; and British deployment, 32–3; on British indecision to commit, 77, 86; British move to Dunkirk, 25; on British participation, 94, 209; on British personnel issues, 49, 59–60, 73–4, 90–6, 20; on British split command, 37–8; British troops forward, 86; character strengths and weaknesses, 29–30; civil and military relations and, 28; command style, 55–7, 20; conflict with government, 33–4, 84–5, 86; crisis of communication with British, 08–9, –2, 60; and Foch, 8, 20; and French allies, 9; and frontiers defeat, 99–0; and Gamelin, 55–6; on German border restrictions, 78; and King Albert, 78; Kitchener’s deferral to, 89; lack of knowledge of English language, 7; Lanrezac replaced, 2, 20; on Le Cateau, 03–6; mandate of power with war, xv–xvi, 49–52, 78; on Murray’s replacement, 90–6, 20; offensive (mid-Dec 94), 200; offensive strategy, 5; offensive strategy (95), 20; and outbreak of war, 47; renewal of French leadership, 57; and Robertson, 95; and Russian

Index

visit, 6; Sir John, first meeting with, 89–90, 209; Sir John at Melun, 5–7, 209; Sir John meeting (26 Aug), 00–; Sir John meeting (Dec. 94), 20; and Sir John relationship, 93–4, 03–4, 47, 49, 209; on Sir John’s recall, 59–60, 73–4, 20; structure of High Command, 53–4; Third Bureau advice, 54–5; Western Front strategy (end 94), 98–9; and Wilson relationship, 33, 40. See also High Command (France) Kennedy, Paul, xiii Kitchener, Horatio Herbert, 64; Antwerp and French failure, 34–5, 39, 48; Antwerp and French strategy, 29; Antwerp and order to Sir John, 27; Antwerp clash of strategies, 30–, 34–5; on Antwerp defence, 27; bef, change in instructions to, 75–6, 208, 253n8; bef, instructions to, 69–70, 84–5, 98, 06, –2, 207–8; on bef deployment, 34, 83–5; bef relationship, 62, –2; Belgium and Anglo-French competition, 44; Channel and deploying bef, 23; on Channel defence, 24–5; and Churchill relationship, 6–2, 200; on coastal strategy (end 94), 99–200; command style, 60–; concentration of power, 59; creating mass army, 67–8; on crisis of communication with French, 09, ; as defensive-minded, 30; French and negotiations, 52; and French military assessment, 34, 42, 83; French strategic demands, deferral to, 88–9, 9; Joffre and communication lines, 0; and Joffre relationship, 69; knowledge of French language, 7; and the

Index

Marne, 7–8; on Murray’s replacement, 90–4; predictions for the war, 62, 67, 83, 75–6; Russians in east (end 94), 97; as secretary of state for war, 60–, 83; Sir John and French request to replace, 72–5; and Sir John relationship, 49; on split command, 37–8; on trench warfare, 202; on War Council, 87. See also British Command Landsdowne, Marquess of, 4 language skills: British knowledge of French, 7–2; British lack of French, 92, 94; and command relations, 2 Lanrezac, Charles, 57; and British relationship, 94–5; in frontier battles, 96–8; on German attack of Belgium, 93; and Guise, 05; and Le Cateau, 04, 05; opinion of British, 4; replaced, 2; and Sir John relationship, 00–, 2, 75 Law, Andrew Bonar, 59 Le Havre, 33, 39, 98 Liberal Party (Britain), 6, 9; on intervention (9), 35; at outbreak of war, 58, 59 Libya, 8 Liège, 22, 99 Lille, 40, 47; failure of march on, 57–8, 92, 208, 20; strategy for march on, 54–6, 57–8 Lloyd George, David: on crisis of communication with French, 09; on imperial interests, 6; and Joffre relationship, 30; on new war strategy (end 94), 202; on War Council, 87 Lodz, 85, 200 Loos, xvi, 205 Lorraine, 37, 97, 06 losses (Britain): as of 28 August, 04; Battle of Le Cateau, 03; Battle of

295

Mons, 98, 03; at Battle of Ypres (first), 8; government response to (end 94), 86–7; navy losses at Antwerp, 38–40; at Western Front (Dec 94), 20 Lowe, C.J., 202 Luxembourg, 22, 78–9 Lys, 42, 58 MacDonald, Ramsay, 59 Macdonogh, George M.W., 7 MacMahon, Patrice (Sedan 870), 49 MacMahon crisis (877), 45 Mahan, A.T., 7 Mangin, Charles,  Marne. See Battle of the Marne Maubeuge, 22, 82, 93, 97 Maubeuge-Hirson-Busigny triangle, 89 Maubeuge–Le Cateau–Hirson area, 33, 39 Maubeuge-Philippeville-Givet line, 97 Maubeuge-Rocroy line, 97 Maud’huy, Louis de, 34, 5, 9; decorated by George V, 9 Maunoury, Michel, 2 Mediterranean: British imperial interests in, 7; French superiority in, 0–, 2, 4 Melun-Juvisy line,  Melun meeting (5 Sept 94), 5–7, 209 Messimy, Adolphe, 27, 29; on British non-commitment to France, 76; and outbreak of war, 47; and power of High Command, 49–50, 5; the stress of war, 46 Messines, 64, 9, 97, 99 Metz-Thionville region, 37 Mézières, 37 Michel, Victor, 27

296

Millerand, Alexandre, 5–2, 52–3; Antwerp and French failure, 34–5; on Antwerp strategy, 29; on crisis of communication with English, 09, ; Foch appointment, 5; on Joffre request to replace Sir John, 72; Joffre’s Western Front strategy (end 94), 98; on Murray’s replacement, 90, 94 Mons, 96–8, 99, 92 Morley, John, 59 Moroccan crisis: (905), 9, 26; (9), 8, 5, 9, 26 Morocco, 8, 4; troops from, 79 Muller, Captain, 5 Munich Crisis (938), 20 munitions shortage: Britain, 77–8; Britain (95), 59; France, 52, 98 Murray, Archibald, 00; on bef deployment, 88; and fellow officers’ relations, 70; and Foch-Wilson connection, 52; and Le Cateau, 02; Marne preparation, 3; recall of, 89–96, 203–4; on Sir John at Ypres, 62–3; and Sir John relationship, 63, 80; Wilson intrigues to have replaced, 74 Namur, 22, 97, 99 Neilson, Keith, xiii, xvii Netherlands, 82 New Armies (Britain), xvi; change in strategy for, 20–2; in competition with bef, 68; to France (95), 205; initiation into trench warfare, 68; Kitchener’s plans for, 3; Kitchener’s recruiting for, 67–8; in Kitchener’s strategy, 84; location for the, 76; promised to Continent (95), 208; and Turkey, 202. See also British Expeditionary Force (bef)

Index

Nicholas II (Russia), 6, 7, 75 Nieuport, 43 Nivelle, Robert, 89 “northern flank” strategy, xiv Nudant, General, 88 Ostend, 24, 30, 62 Otte, Thomas G., 6 pacifism, 35, 58, 59 Panama Canal, 4 Panouse, Arthus de la, 40, 85, 88 Paris: and the Seine plan, 08, –2 Passchendaele, 40 Pau, Paul, 29, 32; in Antwerp strategy, 34, 37–8 Pedroncini, Guy (ref), xiii Pellé, Maurice, 53, 55, 5; replaces Bertholet, 88 Penelon, Colonel, 54, 59 Percival, E.M., 95 Philpott, William James, xiv, 9 Plan xvi : compared to Plan xvii , 36; integration of British in, 33; variant i , 5, 36; variant of (92), 22, 29 Plan xvii , 9, 38; Algeria and Italy in, 75; Belgium in, 22, 37; and the British, 36–40; British concentration on French left, 39; and offensive strategy, 5, 37 Poincaré, Raymond, 6, 7, 8, 22, 63, 68; on Antwerp strategy, 29; Belgium and Anglo-French competition, 44; and British alliance, 35; and British ambiguities, 36–7; crisis of communication with English, 08– 9, 60; and Foch appointment, 5; and George V, 76; government and command in harmony, 209; and Haldane, ; and Joffre relationship, 86; lack of knowledge of English language, 7; and mandatory

Index

military service, 3; and outbreak of war, 47–8; on power of High Command, 50–; on presidential role, 45–6; Sir John and request for recall, 60, 72–4; and Sir John assessment, 92; strategic review of war (end of 94), 84, 98. See also government (France) politics, domestic (Britain): and Agadir crisis, 3; and Antwerp failure, 38–40; Belgium and support of war, 72, 76–7; and conflict with war strategies, 207–8, 2–2; and Dardanelles strategy, 202; and Entente military planning, 42–3; and interventionist policy, 35, 75–6, 20; Irish Question (94), 35–6, 59; and Le Cateau defeat, 03–4; long-term effect of war on, 77; at outbreak of Great War, 44–5, 57–8; recruiting campaign, 76; and Sir John’s command, 73–4; support of war effort, 58–9, 67–8, 72. See also government (Britain) politics, domestic (France): Agadir and nationalism, 27; and Belgium, 4–6; British fear of, 42; on British indecision, 76; civil-military relations, 27–9; and conflict with war strategies, 207–8, 2–2; and Entente military planning, 42–3; and Foch appointment, 5; and High Command, 52, 09, ; longterm effect of war on, 77; and Moroccan crisis (9), 26; nationalism, 27, 3, 72; and outbreak of war, 44–5, 46–7, 47–8; and power to High Command, 49, 78. See also government (France) Pont, Colonel, 54, 80, 5 Poperinghe, 34–5 population of France and Germany, 3

297

Prince of Wales, 69 Race to the Sea, xvi, 2, 25, 45, 78, 8, 84, 2 Radicals (Britain), 75, 76; pacifists, 58 Radicals (France), 29, 3, 42; anticlerical radicals, 28 railway: and bef move north, 52; and Belgian frontier, 37; BerlinBaghdad, 6; and frontiers defeat, 00; in Russia, 5; for troop deployment, 79, 07; used in Battle of the Marne, 8 Ramscapelle, 43 Rawlinson, Henry, 29, 32, 57; evacuation of Antwerp, 33, 34, 35, 42; and split command, 38, 40, 244n92 Ribot, Alexandre, 5, 72 Robertson, William, 7; command style, 95; replaces Murray, 93–6, 203–4; suggested to replace Murray, 92, 93 Rouen, 33, 39 Royal Navy (British): Admiralty flying wing, 6; after Falklands battle, 85; and Antwerp losses, 38–40; in Antwerp strategy, 25, 3–2, 33, 35; and continental intervention strategy, 34; in defence of Channel, 24–5; defence of empire by, 4, 6–7; defence of French ports, 76, 77; in defence policy, 9–2, 98; and deployment of the bef, 34, 68, 82; dominance of, 207; and prewar defence of France, ; race with Germany, 5–6 Russia: alliance, 2; French expectations of, 78–9; German pressure on (early 95), 97–8; and loss of Lodz, 85, 200; offensive, 05, 07;

298

role in French grand strategy, 4–6, 8–9, 74, 77, 98–9; short of munitions, 200; and timing of British forces, 80, 8 Russian front, 3 Russo-Japanese War (904–05), 4, 5 St Nazaire, 24 St Omer–Hazebrouck area, 28 St Quentin, 00–, 03 St Quentin–Cambrai–Arras area, 33 St Quentin–Handsoyon, 0 Salonika, xvi, 84, 204 Sarrail, Maurice, 3 Schlieffen Plan, 38, 05 Seeley, J.E.B., 35, 58 Seine plan. See under Battle of the Marne Selves, Justin de, 2 Sembat, Marcel, 5 Serbia, 85, 98–9 Smith-Dorrien, Horace, 0–2 Socialists (France), 28, 3; criticism of Joffre, 5; Independent, 3, 46; Jaurès Socialists, 28, 47, 48; and outbreak of war, 47–8; Radical, 86 Sordet, General, 02 Soutou, Georges-Henri, xiv Spears, Edward, 96, 97, 98 stereotypes: of British as slow, 55, 87, 9, 94, 50, 74, 2; influence on Allied command relations, 88, 89 submarine bases, 9, 99 ten-kilometre no-trespass zone, 46, 47, 78, 209 Territorial Force (Britain), 67 Third Bureau. See under Grand quartier général (gqg ) Third Republic, 27, 29, 45; and outbreak of war, 48 Thourout, 6 Three-Year Law (France), 6, 3, 46

Index

Treaty of London (839), 2 trench warfare, 46; adaptation of British to, 202; adaptation of French to, 96–7; from Alps to North Sea, 78–9; at Battle of Ypres, 6; and British re-evaluation, 22; British request to shorten line (Ypres), 8, 87–8; and conflict over allocation, 89; German concentration on, 98; New Armies initiation into, 68; and realization of long war, 67, 84 Triple Alliance, 5, 8, 9, 5 Turkey, 85, 86, 20–2 Unionist Party (Britain), 6 Union sacrée, 48, 5, 72 United States, 4 Valenciennes-Maubeuge line, 97, 98 Valois group, 42 Verdun-Metz axis, 95 Viviani, René, 6, 3; on foreign policy, 46; lack of knowledge of English language, 7; and outbreak of war, 47–8, 50–; strategic review of war (end of 94), 84, 98 Vlamertinghe, 65 von Bülow, Karl, 96, 8 von Kluck, Alexander, 97, 00, 05, 2–3, 8; at Le Cateau, 0 von Moltke, Helmuth, 56 von Spee, Admiral, 85 Vosges, 78, 8 Wallach, Jehuda L., xiv Walmer Castle meetings, 44, 9, 200, 257n35 War Council (Britain), 227n24, 228n32; set up end of 94, 86–7, 204 War Ministry (France): bureaucracy of, 30; government scrutiny of

Index

(end 94), 86; and power of High Command, 5–2. See also government (France) Warneton, 9, 9, 97 War Office (Britain): and decision to deploy bef, 82–5; Kitchener and, 6, 83; at outbreak of war, 58 War of Movement, 84, 85–6, 87, 204, 209, 22 Western Front: British response to deadlock, 99–203; deadlock on, 84; December (94) British losses, 20; French and British strategy at odds, 203, 204–5; French response to deadlock, 97–8; German defensive strategy on, 98; map,  Sept 94, 0 Weygand, Maxime, 72 Wilhelm, Kaiser, 6 Wilson, Henry, 2, 3, 9, 00; and Asquith relationship, 226n07; on bef (9) deployment, 34; on bef mobilization, 8; on bef to protect Channel, 23; and Belgian army, 42; change of role of, 203–4; on

299

concentration on French left, 39, 88; and fellow officers’ relationships, 70; and Foch relationship, 52–3; and French counterparts’ relationships, 32–3, 40, 43, 53, 70, 73; and Irish Question, 35–6, 58; and Joffre’s request to replace Sir John, 73–4; knowledge of French language, 7; in Le Cateau, 02, 05; and Lille march, 55; in Marne preparation, 3, 4; and Murray, 80; Murray and replacement intrigues, 74, 89–96, 258n42; on Sir John and Lille failure, 58; on Sir John at Ypres, 62; and Sir John relationship, 63; and Sir John’s replacement, 59; strengths and weaknesses of, 32 wireless code (German), 07 Wolfe-Murray, James, 87 Ypres. See Battle of Ypres (first) Zeebrugge, 32, 33