Knocking down the Cenotaph

An omnibus had crashed into and half knocked down the Cenotaph. Wyndham carried his mind back through the years. It had been for this end that the heroes of the Great War had died.

This is from the Earl of Halsbury’s 1944 (published in 1926), a ‘Future War’ novel written as part of his campaign warning of the possibly apocalyptic effects of the gas bombing of civilians.
I’ve reviewed the book elsewhere,  but thought I’d draw attention here to the episode quoted above. In 1944 a surprise Russian attack has caused chaos, and drivers suddenly afflicted by gas are creating chaos as their vehicles swerve out of control. Read More »


On the University of Birmingham’s website there is an interesting essay by Michael Snape on the role and reputation of Army chaplains in the First World War. It attempts to defend them from the accusation of being distant and ineffectual figures who kept away from the front line. It is well worth reading and partly, but not, I’d say, completely convincing.
Much of Professor Snape’s evidence comes from fiction and memoirs. Read More »

The Love of an Unknown Soldier


I have recently been given the chance to look at a fascinating book, The Love of an Unknown Soldier: Found in a Dugout, first published in London in September 1918, by John Lane, The Bodley Head. (The book’s Canadian edition can be viewed online at the Internet Archive .)
In an introductory explanation, Lane explains: Read More »

‘The spate of war books and plays which all are dreading…’

Thanks to Mary Grover for sending me this clipping from the Sheffield Telegraph, September 1939.
Their sardonic regular columnist P. G. Bond is foretelling that among the horrors of war will be a spate of war literature. Interestingly, he assumes that this will be just like the books and plays that came out of the previous war: Read More »

Causes of the First World War (by Dennis Wheatley)


I’m always interested in novelists’ versions of the beginning of the war, and none is more challenging to conventional historians’  ideas than that of Dennis Wheatley in The Devil Rides Out (1934).  The wise and experienced Duc de Richleau is explaining to his companions in adventure the power of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse:

“War, Plague, Famine and Death. We all know what happened last time those four terrible entities were unleashed to cloud the brains of statesmen and rulers.”
“You’re referring to the Great War I take it,” Rex said soberly.
“Of course, and every adept knows that it started because one of the most terrible Satanists who ever lived found one of the secret gateways through which to release the four horsemen.”
“I thought the Germans got a bit above themselves,” Rex hazarded, “although it seems that lots of other folks were pretty well as much to blame.”
“You fool!” De Richleau suddenly swung upon him. “Germany did not make the War. It came out of Russia. It was Russia who instigated the murder at Sarajevo, Russia who backed Serbia to resist Austria’s demands, Russia who mobilised first and Russia who invaded Germany. The monk Rasputin was the Evil genius behind it all. He was the greatest Black Magician that the world has known for centuries. It was he who found one of the gateways through which to let forth the four horsemen that they might wallow in blood and destruction – and I know the Talisman of Set to be another. Europe is ripe now for any trouble and if they are loosened again, it will be final Armageddon. […] We’ve got to kill Mocata before he can secure the Talisman and prevent his plunging the world into another war.”

Read More »

‘Never beaten in the field’?


In A.G. Macdonell’s dark but lively  satire, Lords and Masters (1936), forceful young Veronica Hanson has just returned from Nuremberg, a convinced and enthusiastic Nazi. She explains recent history to her father:

‘Anyway, my point is that in the last war the whole world combined couldn’t beat the German armies in the field -’
‘Is that what they say nowadays in Deutschland?’ interrupted her father.
Veronica opened her dark-green eyes very wide.
‘That’s what they say everywhere. I mean, everyone knows that. It’s simply a matter of record.’
‘That the German armies were never beaten in the field?’ Read More »

Duff Cooper at the War


Alfred Duff Cooper is best known as the politician who became Minister of Information in the Second World War – but his diaries of the First World War make excellent reading for anyone interested in stories of the upper class at war.
A young man of talent and connections, until 1917 he was employed, and, it would seem, needed, at the Foreign Office, but it became obvious that the F.O. was likely to be ‘combed out’, and that he, as the youngest of the permanent unmarried staff, would be allowed to go. The thought fills him, he says, with exhilaration:

I always wished to go to the war though less now than I did at first. I envy the experience and adventure that everyone else has had. I am not afraid of death though I love life and should hate to lose it. I don’t think I should make a good officer.

Read More »

Vera Brittain, novelist


‘And you say,’ the Judge continued slowly, ‘that these abnormal conditions are not uncommon as the result of shell-shock?’
‘That is so, My Lord. If every criminal case in our prisons could be traced back to its origins as exhaustively as this one has been traced, we should probably find war shock, or war anxiety, at the root of many.’

Vera Brittain’s 1945 novel Account Rendered takes the promising theme of the link between war and insanity. The central character, Francis Keynsham Halkin, is a promising composer who enlists towards the end of the Great War. Read More »

The York National Book Fair

I hadn’t been to an event like this for a couple of years, so enjoyed my visit to York Racecourse on Friday, to what is billed as Britain’s largest Antiquarian book fair.

I didn’t buy much, though. The fair is aimed at book collectors, and I’m more of a book amasser, whose books pile up uncontrollably. I’m a reader, and never unduly concerned about fine bindings or complete dust jackets. My book-buying policy generally is to go for the cheapest copy on that doesn’t sound utterly revolting. Read More »

In No Man’s Land

From the diary of Duff Cooper:

November 11th, 1916.

Dined at 16 Lower Berkeley Street. After dinner, the conversation turning on sodomy, Blueie [Harold Baker] told us of a case where a man was accused of having committed it in No Man’s Land, i.e. between the trenches during an attack, taking advantage of a shell hole. This story was shouted to Sir John [Horner] who heard it unmoved and only grunted, ‘He must have been a handy fellow.’