D.H. Lawrence: Subordination to the Cold Machine

SPECIAL ORDER OF THE DAYBy FIELD-MARSHAL SIR DOUGLAS HAIGK.T., G.C.B., G.C.V.O., K.C.I.E.Commander-in-Chief, British Armies in FranceTo ALL RANKS OF THE BRITISH ARMY IN FRANCE AND FLANDERSThree weeks ago to-day the enemy began his terrific attacks against us on a fifty-mile front.  His objects are to separate us from the French, to take the Channel Ports and destroy the British Army.In spite of throwing already 106 Divisions into the battle and enduring the most reckless sacrifice of human life, he has as yet made little progress towards his goals.We owe this to the determined fighting and self-sacrifice of our troops.  Words fail me to express the admiration which I feel for the splendid resistance offered by all ranks of our Army under the most trying circumstances.Many amongst us now are tired.  To those I would say that Victory will belong to the side which holds out the longest.  The French Army is moving rapidly and in great force to our support.There is no other course open to us but to fight it out.  Every position must be held to the last man: there must be no retirement.  With our backs to the wall and believing in the justice of our cause each one of us must fight on to the end.  The safety of our homes and the Freedom of mankind alike depend upon the conduct of each one of us at this critical moment.(Signed) D. Haig F.M.Commander-in-ChiefBritish Armies in FranceGeneral HeadquartersTuesday, April 11th, 1918

Speech by British Prime Minister David Lloyd George, June 1917

It is a satisfaction for Britain in these terrible times that no share of the responsibility for these events rests on her.She is not the Jonah in this storm.  The part taken by our country in this conflict, in its origin, and in its conduct, has been as honourable and chivalrous as any part ever taken in any country in any operation.We might imagine from declarations which were made by the Germans, aye! and even by a few people in this country, who are constantly referring to our German comrades, that this terrible war was wantonly and wickedly provoked by England - never Scotland - never Wales - and never Ireland.Wantonly provoked by England to increase her possessions, and to destroy the influence, the power, and the prosperity of a dangerous rival.There never was a more foolish travesty of the actual facts.  It happened three years ago, or less, but there have been so many bewildering events crowded into those intervening years that some people might have forgotten, perhaps, some of the essential facts, and it is essential that we should now and again restate them, not merely to refute the calumniators of our native land, but in order to sustain the hearts of her people by the unswerving conviction that no part of the guilt of this terrible bloodshed rests on the conscience of their native land.What are the main facts?  There were six countries which entered the war at the beginning.  Britain was last, and not the first.Before she entered the war Britain made every effort to avoid it; begged, supplicated, and entreated that there should be no conflict.

I was a member of the Cabinet at the time, and I remember the earnest endeavours we made to persuade Germany and Austria not to precipitate Europe into this welter of blood.  We begged them to summon a European conference to consider.Had that conference met arguments against provoking such a catastrophe were so overwhelming that there would never have been a war.  Germany knew that, so she rejected the conference, although Austria was prepared to accept it.  She suddenly declared war, and yet we are the people who wantonly provoked this war, in order to attack Germany.We begged Germany not to attack Belgium, and produced a treaty, signed by the King of Prussia, as well as the King of England, pledging himself to protect Belgium against an invader, and we said, "If you invade Belgium we shall have no alternative but to defend it."The enemy invaded Belgium, and now they say, "Why, forsooth, you, England, provoked this war."It is not quite the story of the wolf and the lamb.  I will tell you why - because Germany expected to find a lamb and found a lion.

First-hand account of a gas attack

First a shell blew one door in and the other near me. The candles went out, and groped for our gas-helmets in the dark. Splinters of metal were making sparks as they fell through just above us, and the din was quite indescribable. Soon amongst the high-explosive shell falling all around we heard the unmistakable plop, plop as gas-shells fell mixed with the others, and the burnt-potato or onion smell warned us it was time to put on our gas-helmets.

One poor chap couldn’t find his helmet; another had his torn across his face by a flying piece of shrapnel. We waited apprehensively for a direct hit any moment, but luckily none came and the barrage lifted back to the front line and also to the artillery lines. We then all staggered out to find our battle positions, trying as best we could to see through helmet eyepieces and the dense fog.

We were making very slow progress when Sergeant-Major Alex Smith did a very brave thing. He pulled off his gas-helmet, fully aware of the grave risk, and led us through the thick gas to our allotted posts. I was quite aghast at Smith’s selfless act, deliberately inviting a cruel death. We witnessed it graphically in our reserve line – the terrible sight of gassed men caught by the missed gas and high-explosive shell-fire. They were carried past on stretchers in what seemed an endless procession, each man frothing at the mouth and blowing bubbles. It was a frightful and unnerving sight.

Captain Geoffrey Lawrence\

S i e g f r i e d S a s s o o n : D e c l a ra t i o n a g a i n s t t h e Wa r

I am making this statement as an act of wilful defiance of

military authority, because I believe that the War is being

deliberately prolonged by those who have the power to end it .

I am a soldier, convinced that I am acting on behalf of

soldiers. I believe that this War, on which I entered as a war

of defence and liberation, has now become a war of aggression

and conquest . I believe that the purpose for which I and my

fellow soldiers entered upon this war should have been so

clearly stated as to have made it impossible to change them,

and that , had this been done, the objects which actuated us

would now be attainable by negotiation. I have seen and

endured the sufferings of the troops, and I can no longer be a

party to prolong these sufferings for ends which I believe to

be evil and unjust . I am not protesting against the conduct of

the war, but against the political errors and insincerities for

which the fighting men are being sacrificed. On behalf of

those who are suffering now I make this protest against the

deception which is being practised on them; also I believe

that I may help to destroy the callous complacency with which

the majority of those at home regard the contrivance of

agonies which they do not, and which they have not sufficient

imagination to realize.

Wil fred Owen’s Let ters

To Susan Owen4 January 1917

Address. 2nd Manchester Regt. B.E.F.

My own dear Mother,

I have joined the Regiment, who are just at the end of six weeks' rest.

I will not describe the awful vicissitudes of the journey here. I arrived at Folkestone, and put up at the best hotel. It was a place of luxury — inconceivable now — carpets as deep as the mud here — golden flunkeys; pages who must have been melted into their clothes, and expanded since; even the porters had clean hands. Even the dogs that licked up the crumbs had clean teeth.

Since I set foot on Calais quays I have not had dry feet.

No one knew anything about us on this side, and we might have taken weeks to get here, and must have, but for fighting our way here.

I spent something like a pound in getting my baggage carried from trains to trains.

At the Base, as I said, it was not so bad. We were in the camp of Sir Percy Cunynghame, who had bagged for his Mess the Luke of Connaught's chef.

After those two days, we were let down, gently, into the real thing, Mud.

It has penetrated now into that Sanctuary my sleeping bag, and that holy of holies my pyjamas. For I sleep on a stone floor and the servant squashed mud on all my belongings; I suppose by way of baptism. We are 3 officers in this 'Room', the rest of the house is occupied by servants and the band; the roughest set of knaves I have ever been herded with. Even now their vile language is shaking the flimsy door between the rooms.

I chose a servant for myself yesterday, not for his profile, nor yet his clean hands, but for his excellence in bayonet work. For the servant is always at the side of his officers in the charge and is therefore worth a dozen nurses. Alas, he of the Bayonet is in the Bombing Section and it is against Regulations to employ such as a servant. I makeshift with another.

Everything is makeshift. The English seem to have fallen into the French unhappy-go-lucky non-system. There are scarcely any houses here. The men lie in Barns.

Our Mess Room is also an Ante and Orderly Room. We eat & drink out of old tins, some of which show traces of ancient enamel. We are never dry, and never 'off duty'.

On all the officers' faces there is a harassed look that I have never seen before, and which in England, never will be seen — out of jails. The men are just as Bairnsfather has them — expressionless lumps. We feel the weight of them hanging on us. I have found not a few of the old Fleetwood Musketry party here. They seemed glad to see me, as far as the set doggedness of their features would admit.

I censored hundreds of letters yesterday, and the hope of peace was in every one. The Daily Mail map which appeared about Jan. 2 will be of extreme interest to you.

We were stranded in a certain town one night and I saved the party of us by collaring an Orderly in the streets and making him take us to a Sergeants Mess. We were famishing, and a mug of beer did me more good than any meal I ever munched. The place was like a bit of Blighty, all hung with English Greetings and Mistletoe.

As I could I collected accoutrement, some here, some there, and almost am complete; Steel Helmets, & Gas; improved Box Respirator, and cetera.

The badge of the Regt. is some red tabs on the shoulder thus  . I scarcely know any of the officers. The senior are old regulars. The younger are, several, Artists! In my room is an Artist of the same school as I passed. He is also a fine water-colour sketcher. I may have time to write again tomorrow. I have not of course had anything from you.

I am perfectly well and strong, but unthinkably dirty and squalid.I scarcely dare to wash.Pass on as much of this happy news as may interest people.The favourite song of the men is

'The Roses round the doorMakes me love Mother more. '

They sing this everlastingly.I don't disagree.

Your very own W.E.O. x

CL, pp. 421–423

To Susan Owen25 April 1917

A Coy., My Cellar

My own dearest Mother,

Immediately after I sent my last letter, more than a fortnight ago, we were rushed up into the Line. Twice in one day we went over the top, gaining both our objectives. Our A Company led the Attack, and of course lost a certain number of men. I had some extraordinary escapes from shells & bullets. Fortunately there was no bayonet work, since the Hun ran before we got up to his trench. You will find mention of our fight in the Communiqué; the place happens to be the very village which Father named in his last letter! Never before has the Battalion encountered such intense shelling as rained on us as we advanced in the open. The Colonel sent round this message the next day: 'I was filled with admiration at the conduct of the Battalion under the heavy shell-fire.... The leadership of officers was excellent, and the conduct of the men beyond praise.' The reward we got for all this was to remain in the Line 12 days. For twelve days I did not wash my face, nor take off my boots, nor sleep a deep sleep. For twelve days we lay in holes, where at any moment a shell might put us out. I think the worst incident was one wet night when we lay up against a railwav embankment. A big shell lit on the top of the bank, just 2 yards from my head. Before I awoke, I was blown in the air right away from the bank! I passed most of the following days in a railway Cutting, in a hole just big enough to lie in, and covered with corrugated iron. My brother officer of B Coy., 2/Lt. Gaukroger lay opposite in a similar hole. But he was covered with earth, and no relief will ever relieve him, nor will his Rest be a 9 days' Rest. I think that the terribly long time we stayed unrelieved was unavoidable; yet it makes us feel bitterly towards those in England who might relieve us, and will not.

We are now doing what is called a Rest, but we rise at 6.15 and work without break until about 10p.m. for there is always a Pow- Wow for officers after dinner. And if I have not written yesterday, it is because I must have kept hundreds of letters uncensored, and enquiries about Missing Men unanswered [remainder missing]