Haig

MILITARY PROFILES
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Dennis E. Showalter, Ph.D.
Colorado College

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 Haig
The Evolution of a Commander

Andrew A. Wiest

Potomac Books, Inc.

Washington, D.C.
Copyright © 2005 by Potomac Books
Published in the United States by Potomac Books, Inc. (formerly Brassey’s,
Inc.). All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in
the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wiest, Andrew A.
Haig : the evolution of a commander / Andrew A. Wiest.— 1st ed.
p. cm.—(Military profiles)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 1‒57488‒683‒5 (acid-free paper)—ISBN 1‒57488‒684‒3
(pbk. : acid-free paper)
1. Haig, Douglas, Sir, 1861‒1928. 2. Generals—Great Britain—
Biography. 3. World War, 1914‒1918—Campaigns. I. Title.
II. Series.

DA69.3H3W54 2005
940.4'0092—dc22 2005009810
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper that meets the
American National Standards Institute z39-48 Standard.
Potomac Books, Inc.
22841 Quicksilver Drive
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first edition
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
 Contents

List of Maps vii

Preface ix
Chronology xvii

Chapter 1 The Military Education of Douglas Haig 3

Chapter 2 A Corps Commander Rises to Prominence 12
Chapter 3 Commander of the BEF 23
Chapter 4 The Death of a Generation? The Battle of
the Somme 40
Chapter 5 Battles in the Mud: The Year of Passchendaele 66
Chapter 6 1918: The Year of Victory 88
Chapter 7 Conclusion 112

Notes 119
Bibliographic Note 127
Index 131
About the Author 139
 Maps

The Western Front, 1915 31

The Somme 53
British Offensives in Flanders, 1917 80
The British Advance to Victory, 1918 103
 Preface

A cursory tour of the “military history” shelves of any major

bookstore in the United States reveals a continued national fas-
cination with World War II. It was a time in which giants strode
the world stage—players of both mythic good and terrible evil.
It was a war of sweeping drama in which the fate of the world
seemed to hinge on single decisions or indeed the actions of in-
dividual soldiers. It was the war of the “greatest generation” and
the “band of brothers.” Interested readers, though, must search
diligently to find the location of books concerning World War I,
often tucked away behind more salable tomes. In the mind of
the book-buying American public the Great War pales in com-
parison to its younger sibling. World War I was slow moving,
and, though it was tragic, it was rather too dull to seize the
American imagination. The protagonists of the conflict seem
bumbling and out of their depth rather than either heroic or
evil. Perhaps the lack of written attention is due to the state of
communications technology that existed at the time of the re-
spective conflicts. Film footage of the Great War seems herky-
jerky and almost comic as soldiers silently rush by—reminding
the viewer perhaps of Charlie Chaplin. For whatever reason,
though, World War I has receded into the realm of the nearly
forgotten distant past—a murky realm of myths and half-truths.
Americans can be forgiven their relative ignorance of the Great
War, for it was hardly an American war at all—with U.S. soldiers
entering combat only near the end of the conflict. For Europeans,
though, the war and its agonies formed the most critical series of
x preface

events of the twentieth century. In the case of Britain the Great

War was the cause of more sacrifice and death than World War II
and was the only occasion in history that the island nation chose
to raise a mass army to face the leading continental power in land
combat. Though bookshelves in London carry a wider assort-
ment of Great War titles, the British public has developed its
own, rather unique, mythological dogma regarding World War I
and its consequences. To most Britons the Great War represents
the nadir of the Edwardian military. The chief commanders of
the conflict were hidebound relics of a bygone age—turn-of-the-
century gentlemen amateurs, trained in the army of the Raj and
unable to come to grips with the first truly modern war. British
soldiers, volunteers and the flower of their generation, fought
heroically at the behest of their unthinking leaders and were
needlessly sacrificed in the soulless trenches and bottomless mud
of Flanders. Even through five years of combat the British high
command apparently learned nothing—achieving final, and
questionable, victory through luck alone.
Within the field of military history, though, the nature of the
Great War is the subject of continuing, often acrimonious, debate.
Usually staid historians sometimes very nearly come to blows in
discussions involving World War I. The historian protagonists of
the argument represent two diametrically opposing viewpoints.
There exists a powerful traditional school of thought concerning
World War I that informs the public perception of the conflict.
Born in part during a postwar publication flurry of memoirs and
biographies, the traditionalist school came of age in the wake of
World War II and flowered fully in the Vietnam era.1 At least in
part informed by the events of their own time, traditionalist his-
torians contend that the British high command was little better
than a collection of murderers—sending their men to their doom
in endless lines. At the furthest extreme, the polemic title of John
Laffin’s British Butchers and Bunglers of World War One does not
even require the reader to open the book to discern its contents.
A new group of revisionist historians, however, has emerged to
challenge the traditionalist view. While not totally exonerating
 preface xi

the British high command of its grievous errors, the revisionist

school has endeavored to look beneath the surface veneer of
British failure and has discovered a rich new vein of historical en-
quiry. The revisionists, led by the late John Terraine, along with
Gary Sheffield and Paddy Griffith, agree that the British army
and its command structure were at best flawed instruments at the
outset of the Great War, leading to the apparent disasters of the
Somme and Passchendaele. However, far from learning nothing
from their mistakes, the British army experienced a steep “learn-
ing curve” in the first years of the conflict. As a result, by 1918 the
British Expeditionary Force (BEF) was the most potent army in
the field, even laying waste to the vaunted German army in a se-
ries of nearly forgotten battles termed “The Hundred Days.”
Thus, unlike nearly any other subject area, there exists a great
divide in historical perceptions of World War I. To most, World
War I represents needless slaughter at the hands of murderous
commanders. Within the field of Great War history, though,
the revisionists presently hold sway and contend that the com-
manders of the BEF achieved the greatest single military victory
ever in British history and wrought a sea change in modern mil-
itary thought. As might be expected with such stark, opposing
viewpoints attacks across the historical divide have been nu-
merous and vitriolic. Thus a great storm swirls around World
War I history, a storm that quite naturally has centered on the
person of the commander in chief of the BEF: Sir Douglas
Haig.
Though many of his decisions and actions were controversial
during his tenure at the head of the BEF, after the Great War
Haig became a revered, almost fatherly figure, to the British
public. His death in 1928 sparked a national wave of mourning,
and his funeral attracted as many mourners as did that of Win-
ston Churchill some thirty-five years later.2 In the intervening
years, though, the public perception of Haig has altered, trans-
forming the field marshal into a murderous, semi-barbaric fig-
ure. Indeed, public pronouncements concerning Haig now drip
with venom usually reserved for only the worst war criminals.
xii preface

On the occasion of the eightieth anniversary of the armistice a

national British newspaper, the Express, ran a story on Haig un-
der the headline, “He led a million men to their deaths,” and
later went on to assert that the men had died needlessly as the
sole result of his orders. The paper even launched a campaign to
remove Haig’s statue from Whitehall because its close proximity
to the monument to Britain’s war dead, the Cenotaph, sullied
the memory of the glorious fallen.3 Perhaps, though, the best in-
dicator of the public perception of Haig can be seen in his por-
trayal in the satirical British television series Blackadder Goes
Forth. The series pillories British commanders as inept at best
and insane at worst—sacrificing the lives of their men for inches
of tortured ground. Haig appears only in a short clip in which he
sweeps toy soldiers from a model of the western front into a
dustpan and tosses them away without a second thought.
In the historical profession more ink has probably been
spilled over Haig than over all of the other commanders of
World War I combined. Though almost unknown to many in
the United States, a historical debate has raged in the United
Kingdom over Haig and his leadership of Britain’s greatest-ever
military effort. Though many of the initial books dealing with
Haig were sympathetic biographies written by compatriots, the
mood of Great War literature quickly changed. The traditional
school has quite successfully portrayed Haig as a chronically
mistaken, overly ambitious man who, surrounded by syco-
phants, consistently believed that God was leading his hand.
The frightening combination of Haig’s personal traits led to un-
mitigated disaster. Failing to understand the war, Haig contin-
ued to order senseless assaults, and his toadies in General
Headquarters (GHQ) were too weak to stand against his wishes.
Though the bodies piled higher Haig, who never visited the
front to witness the horror of the trenches, stubbornly stuck to
his misguided plans, certain of God’s favor. In the end only the
selfless sacrifice of the brave British soldiery, America’s belated
entry into the conflict, and Germany’s internal collapse allowed
a befuddled Haig to achieve a measure of victory. Historian De-
 preface xiii

nis Winter even contends that Haig’s deleterious effect on the

war did not end in 1918. Supposedly Haig even went so far as to
falsify his own diary in an attempt to exonerate himself from his
crimes against his nation, thus forever skewing the field of Great
War history.4
The revisionist field of Great War history began in many ways
with John Terraine’s 1963 publication of Douglas Haig: The Edu-
cated Soldier. While paying very close attention to Haig, Terraine
devoted much of his work to the nature of the war that sur-
rounded the BEF. What emerged was not a caricature of an over-
matched yet overconfident butcher,5 but a portrait of a thoughtful
man who struggled against the insoluble problems posed by
trench warfare in the early twentieth century. Taking the challenge
issued by Terraine, revisionist historians began to unravel the mys-
teries of the Great War, contending that the BEF not only met but
surmounted the awesome challenge and in so doing altered the
nature of future combat. Much of the succeeding revisionist work
also centers on Haig, but the conclusions regarding his role in the
evolution of the BEF are often at odds. Some revisionists claim
that Haig and GHQ were needless impediments to innovation
and that the changes in the BEF and its method of war took place
in spite of Haig’s interference. Others, while acknowledging
Haig’s mistakes, contend that he learned the craft of a commander
in chief well and was indeed the source of much of the innovation
to be found in the BEF.
It is quite safe to say that Sir Douglas Haig is the most con-
troversial figure in British military history. Haig far outstrips his
nearest competitor, Field Marshal Sir Bernard Montgomery, the
flawed victor of El Alamein in World War II. Though “Monty”
certainly has his detractors, none have gone so far as to suggest
the destruction of his statue in front of the Ministry of Defence
in Whitehall. The passion engendered by the continuing argu-
ments over the career of Sir Douglas Haig, though, know no
such bounds. To most of the public Haig is a villain—the man
who needlessly caused the death of an entire generation of
Britain’s best and brightest. To the traditionalist historians Haig
xiv preface

is at worst a “butcher” or a “donkey.” At his best Haig is an arro-

gant, self-serving general who was unable to realize that he was
out of his depth during the Great War. On the other hand the
most extreme revisionists claim that Haig was a truly great com-
mander, who helped to alter the very nature of modern warfare.
Others, though they recognize Haig’s flaws, agree that revolu-
tionary changes were made under his tenure as commander in
chief of the BEF. The gulf between the differing historical views
on Sir Douglas Haig is truly great, and indeed no other com-
mander in history is the subject of such a wide disparity of opin-
ion. Haig could be anything from the savior of Britain to the
butcher of the BEF.
Though fascinating, the historiographical battles over Haig’s
command have done a disservice to the history of the Great War.
So much attention has been lavished on Haig that other, more
fruitful, areas of Great War research have been ignored. The his-
torical team of Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson has even called
for something of a moratorium on books devoted to Haig, for
attention fixated on him has in their view helped “to preserve
historical writing about the Great War in its ridiculously pro-
tracted adolescence.”6 Even so, Haig remains central to the story
of the transformation of the BEF in the Great War, and to the
story of the war itself. In recent years Great War history has
moved out of its extended adolescence and toward maturity.
Seminal works, by both traditionalists and revisionists, have ap-
peared, fundamentally altering the historical perceptions of
World War I and its place in history. However, these works have
made little impression upon the public mindset regarding the
war, and they have received little notice outside a small circle of
historians in the United States. It is, then, the purpose of the
present study to chronicle and assess the career of Sir Douglas
Haig in the light of the important historical work of the past few
years. Not intended to be an exhaustive study, the present work
introduces readers both to Haig and to the new history sur-
rounding his war. Haig’s life will serve as a focus—a lens through
which to view the transformation of the Great War.
 preface xv

During my years of study of the Great War I have accumu-

lated several historical debts that should be repaid in part at this
point. I first and foremost owe much to my mentor Bentley
Brinkerhoff Gilbert for placing me on and then guiding me
down the road of study of the Great War. Later in my career, as
part of the British Studies Program at the University of Southern
Mississippi, I had the chance to return to London each year to
renew acquaintance with many of the most influential scholars
in the field—affectionately dubbed the “World War I Mafia.” At
the risk of slighting some of my friends I will single a few out for
thanks for their continued help: the late John Terraine, Brian
Bond, Pete Simkins, Chris McCarthy, Paddy Griffith, Sean
McKnight, Niall Barr, and Paul Harris. Special thanks are due to
my friend and colleague Gary Sheffield, who kindly read and of-
fered thoughtful comment on the book in manuscript form. I
also wish to thank the War Studies Department at Royal Mili-
tary Academy Sandhurst and Matt Midlane, the late John Pim-
lott, and Duncan Anderson for my teaching stint there, which
also served as one of the most intense learning experiences of my
life. Thanks are also due to the British Commission for Military
History for allowing a Yank to join and for serving as such a
wonderful sounding board for the field of Great War history.
This book would not have been possible without the continued
support of the History Department at the University of South-
ern Mississippi and its chair (and my basketball tormentor)
Charles Bolton. It is the generosity of the department that made
the pictures in this book possible. I would also like to thank
Skeeter Dixon and Don Green from the Department of Geogra-
phy at the University of Southern Mississippi for kindly produc-
ing the maps for this volume. I would also like to thank our
departmental secretary Shelia Smith for helping me through this
project and for being my friend. Finally, I dedicate this book to
my loving wife Jill and our beautiful children Abigail and
Luke—all of whom cheerfully put up with being abandoned
while I bang away on the computer.
 Chronology

1861 Douglas Haig born in Edinburgh, June 19.

1883 Enters the Royal Military College Sandhurst.
1885 Joins the Seventh (Queen’s Own) Hussars and sees
service in India.
1896 Enters Staff College.
1898 Seconded to the Egyptian Army and sees service in
the Sudan Campaign.
1899 Serves under Sir John French as Staff Officer in the
Cavalry Division in the Boer War.
1901 Appointed commander of the Seventeenth Lancers.
1903 Appointed Inspector General of Cavalry in India
1905 Marries Dorothy Vivian.
1906 Appointed Director of Military Training at the War
Office.
1909 Returns to India as Chief of the General Staff.
1911 Takes over the Aldershot Command.
1914 British declaration of war, Battle of Mons, August.
First Battle of Ypres, October–November. Takes
command of First Army, December.
1915 Battle of Neuve Chapelle, March. Battle of Aubers
Ridge, Battle of Festubert, May. Battle of Loos,
September. Takes over as commander in chief of
the British Expeditionary Force, December.
1916 Battle of Verdun, February–December. Opening of
the Battle of the Somme, July 1. First battlefield use
of the tank, September 15. Close of the Battle of the
Somme, November.
xviii chronology

1917 Calais Conference, February. Opening of the Battle

of Arras, April. Failure of the Nivelle Offensive and
French Army Mutiny, April–May. Battle of
Messines, June. Third Battle of Ypres begins, July
31. Plumer takes over command of the second phase
of the Third Battle of Ypres, August. Passchendaele
falls, the Third Battle of Ypres ends, November. Bat-
tle of Cambrai, November–December.
1918 German offensive opens on the western front,
Allied creation of a Supreme Command, March.
Battle of Amiens, August. The Hundred Days, Au-
gust–November. Armistice, November.
1919 Takes command of the Home Forces, April. Haig is
created an Earl, August.
1920 Haig retires from active military life.
1921 Formation of the British Legion.
1928 Haig dies, January 29.
Haig
 Chapter 1

The Military Education of

Douglas Haig

D o u g l a s h a i g was born in Edinburgh,

Scotland, on June 19, 1861, the son of John and Rachel Haig
who prospered in the whiskey industry and claimed distant
relation to the gentility of the main family line. The youngest
son of nine surviving children, Douglas Haig was little influ-
enced by his father, who died in 1878. Instead his mother and
his sister Henrietta were the prime forces of his young life. The
Haig household was strict and regimented, instilling a true
sense of discipline in the lad, but also leading him toward a his-
tory of personal isolation. Seemingly everything around
Douglas Haig served as a reminder of duty and place, includ-
ing his toy drum with the inscription, “Douglas Haig—some-
times a good boy.”1 A rather indifferent student, Haig first
attended school at Clifton and then went on to Brasenose
College, Oxford. University life, though, failed to seize the
imagination of young Haig, who paid scant attention to his
studies. Haig did, however, become increasingly engaged in the
university social life of the era, taking on the trappings of a
Victorian gentleman.2 In part because of an intense shyness
3
4 haig

and a singular lack of communication ability, though, Haig

made few lasting friends and remained intentionally aloof and
alone. Until the end of his days Haig would remain ill at ease
in public and inept in speaking to all but his very few close
associates, and as a result he would be branded as snobbish and
secretive by those who were better suited to life in the public
eye. In later years some historians would interpret Haig’s
reserved behavior and difficulty in public speaking as symp-
toms of either a scheming individuality or sheer idiocy.
After a short and undistinguished stay at Oxford, in 1883 Haig
took his sister Henrietta’s advice and embarked on a career in the
military by entering the Royal Military College Sandhurst.
Though he was older than most of his classmates, Haig was
quite determined to succeed in his chosen career path. When
asked to join in on an evening gambling session Haig remarked,
“It’s all very well for you fellows, you are going into the Army to
play at soldiering, I am going in it as a profession and I am go-
ing to do well in it.”3 Graduating first in the order of merit Haig
received a commission in the Seventh Hussars. A fine rider and
polo player, Haig would forever be associated with the cavalry,
and before the Great War he would be one of the staunchest de-
fenders of the cavalry’s utility in modern war. The charge that
Haig remained fixated by the cavalry even after its usefulness had
passed remains a central tenet of the traditionalist school of
thought regarding Britain and the Great War.4
After a brief stint with the Seventh Hussars in India, Haig re-
turned to Britain and worked further to codify cavalry tech-
nique. Very ambitious and sure of his own abilities, Haig then
entered Staff College, which represented the fast track to pro-
motion. As he had at Sandhurst, Haig excelled, remaining wed-
ded to his studies and aloof from most of his contemporaries.
Haig’s tenure at Staff College was critical to the formulation of
his understanding of the nature of modern war. He learned well
that a major conflict would consist of four phases: maneuver,
first clash of battle, a wearing-out fight of varying duration, and
finally a decisive blow followed by exploitation. Haig, along with
 m i l i t a r y e d u c at i o n o f d o u g l a s h a i g 5

the commanders of every combatant nation, certainly expected

this model to hold true at the outset of the Great War. Haig also
learned that wars would be mobile and that superior morale, not
superior firepower, would bring victory to forces that were rather
evenly matched. Several historians, led by Tim Travers, argue
that Haig learned his lessons so well that he never deviated from
their path during World War I as he vainly searched for a deci-
sive battle and an exploitation opportunity for his beloved cav-
alry.5
After Staff College Haig saw brief action in the Sudan before
moving on to more significant service in the Boer War. In the
difficult struggle that would point out so many of Britain’s mili-
tary failings, General Sir John French served as commander of
the British Cavalry Division in South Africa, and Haig served as
his chief staff officer. Haig landed the plum position shortly af-
ter having lent French 2,500 pounds to avoid bankruptcy.
Though some see the timing of the two events as no coincidence
and believe that Haig was able to use the debt as leverage for an
entire decade,6 the two officers remained rather close and de-
voted to the cause of the cavalry. Shortly after arriving in Cape
Colony French and Haig took part in the confused Battle of
Elandslaagte. In the campaigning that followed Haig played his
role well, but he longed for his own command. He received his
chance in early 1902 by leading a mobile column engaged in
chasing the elusive Boers, and later took over command of the
Seventeenth Lancers.
His battlefield experiences in South Africa proved formative
for Haig. The British military, lacking a true general staff system,
had initially performed poorly. Realizing the need for change,
Haig would, in time, become a leading reformer. Haig also
learned of the value of machine guns in combat, commenting
often on their indispensability and of the need for more such
weapons. His appreciation of the machine gun is important, for
it is a leading tenet of the traditionalist school that Haig misun-
derstood and undervalued its use and centrality to the Great
War.7 Haig, though, remained mostly concerned with the future
6 haig

of his beloved cavalry, because some leading figures, including

Lord Roberts, contended that the British experience in South
Africa indicated that cavalry would best be used in combat as
mounted infantry. However, Haig’s continuing experience
caused him to believe that cavalry could persevere in its more
traditional roles of fighting on horseback and exploitation. Even
so Haig remained quite certain to train cavalry under his com-
mand for both mounted and dismounted combat. As a result the
British cavalry was the best such force in the field in the Great
War and was able to play an important dual combat role.8
Haig, now a leading cavalry theorist, returned to Edinburgh
for a brief stint in regimental command, and became aide de
camp to King Edward VII. From this point on Haig would en-
joy a rather close relationship with Edward and his successor
King George V. Certainly Haig had made the proper social con-
nections for advancement, connections he would work hard to
cultivate and broaden. His record having caught the attention of
General Sir Horatio Kitchener, the commander in chief in India,
Haig soon departed Britain to take over the post of Inspector
General of Cavalry in India, charged with the training and mod-
ernization of the cavalry of the subcontinent.
Perhaps the most meaningful event in Haig’s life during this
time was personal, not military. On leave in Britain in 1905,
Haig met Dorothy Vivian, one of Queen Alexandra’s maids of
honor. Haig had never spared much time for social niceties or re-
lations with women. However, at age forty-four he found him-
self quite taken with Dorothy Vivian. Their courtship was
something of a whirlwind—engaged within a week and married
in Buckingham Palace within a month of their first meeting.
The circumstances of the wedding were so rushed that some his-
torians argue that the marriage was only a practical and quite
calculated social move for the ambitious officer. Haig’s closest as-
sociates, though, contend that the marriage brought him com-
pleteness and provided the aloof loner with an important and
trusted confidant.9 Haig’s own diary entries indicate a consider-
able warmth of feeling for his wife and support the conclusion
 m i l i t a r y e d u c at i o n o f d o u g l a s h a i g 7

that their marriage was truly a lasting union of deep devotion.

While Haig served abroad in India, momentous events were
taking place in Britain. The poor performance of the military
during the Boer War caused Britain to pause and take stock of
the organization of its armed forces. Beginning with the investi-
gation of the Esher Committee into the nature of the War Of-
fice, it quickly became apparent that the organization of the
British military was far behind the times, and needed an imme-
diate and drastic overhaul. Matters came to a head in 1906 with
the election victory of the reform-minded Liberal Party. As a re-
sult, Richard Haldane took over as the new Secretary of State for
War with a mandate to modernize the British military. Though
the nature of a modernized military quickly became apparent to
Haldane, he needed aid in translating his ambitious schemes
into reality. In April 1906 Haldane recalled Haig from India to
the War Office as Director of Military Training. In that post
Haig would have considerable influence over arguably the great-
est series of military reforms in British history.
With Haig serving as his “right-hand man” Haldane first
went about the construction of the British Expeditionary Force
(BEF). The War Office concluded that in time of continental
war Britain would send a force of six infantry divisions and one
cavalry division to France, a total of 120,000 men. Haig and oth-
ers at the War Office worked out the eventual composition of
the BEF, even down to the railway timetables for its journey to
the continent. Next Haldane moved on to the more difficult is-
sue of enlarging the British army and making it part of the na-
tion as a whole, a concept rather foreign to Britons more used to
a small military that functioned in many ways as a colonial
police force. In essence the scheme called for a total of fourteen
volunteer territorial divisions to replace the rather motley collec-
tions of militia and yeomanry units in the country. The territo-
rial divisions would be trained and staffed on the pattern of the
Regular Army, replacing regular units in home defense. Only
this innovation would make it possible for Britain to send the
BEF to the continent at the outset of war.
8 haig

Finally, under Haldane the British military moved toward the

implementation of a modern General Staff. With his valuable
experience Haig once again proved important in the develop-
ment of the Imperial General Staff, the military body that would
find itself charged with prosecuting the Great War. Indeed the
creation of the BEF, the Territorial Force, and the Imperial Gen-
eral Staff proved critical to Britain’s ability to even play any role
in the Great War, much less a decisive role. In the main, credit
for these important innovations must fall to Haldane. However,
Haig also played a critical role in the process, proving to be a
forward-thinking military figure. Though others would work to
perfect the new system, Haig was instrumental in its earliest in-
ception and thus instrumental to Britain’s military success. In to-
tal Haig served at the War Office for four years, a compressed
period of innovation and construction. Haldane remarked that,
“Haig had a first-rate General Staff mind. When he arrived in
London he grasped the situation completely and gave invaluable
guidance in the fashioning of both Regular first line and the Ter-
ritorial second line.”10
Marked as one of the rising young stars of the British army, in
1909 Haig departed the War Office and returned to India as
Chief of the General Staff. His role now centered on taking the
Haldane reforms and transforming them into physical reality in
the chaotic Indian command system. Haig again achieved con-
siderable success, paring down the staff system in India into a
more workable model. In addition he worked hard to prepare
forces on the subcontinent for service in a possible war in Eu-
rope, and he educated his staff officers regarding possible scenar-
ios of battle against German forces in France. His actions not
only suggest that Haig had discerned the opponent in the next
conflict, but also that the conflict would be long enough to re-
quire the use of Indian forces in Europe. Such thinking was
anathema to most military men of the time, who argued that the
coming conflict would be short and decisive. In addition there
was a powerful inertia against using Indian forces outside the
subcontinent. Even so, Haig had made certain that Indian forces
 m i l i t a r y e d u c at i o n o f d o u g l a s h a i g 9

were ready, and indeed an Indian Corps came to Britain’s call in

late 1914, helping to make good the horrific losses of the BEF.
Haig learned much from his continued staff work in India.
His summary of the tactical exercise of 1911 deserves special at-
tention as indicative of his military thinking as war neared. He
stated:
No plan of operations can with any safety include more than the
first collision with the enemy’s force. . . . Plans aiming far beyond
the strategical deployment and first collision have been submitted.
Such speculations may become harmful if they are allowed to ham-
per the judgment as the campaign progresses, and to impede initia-
tive. Commanders in war have been known to become so imbued
with an idea as never to think of any other contingency; and what
we wish for we like to hope and believe.
Haig also remarked on the supposed lack of a British battle doc-
trine. While the Germans preached envelopment and the French
spoke of penetration, Britain seemed to have no sure plan in case
of war. Haig argued that such a statement of doctrine would be
too limiting and artificial and that the British system was more
supple, allowing for a myriad of reactions to a given situation.11
Thus in many ways the state of Haig’s military thinking upon
the outbreak of war is rather difficult to assess. Without doubt
he believed both that the offensive was the stronger form of war
and that decisive battle was possible, though the tiny BEF would
play but a small role in such a confrontation. Haig also certainly
believed that the war would follow a set pattern that would re-
sult in cavalry aiding in exploitation of a decisive victory. How-
ever, Haig was not mindless in his support of the so-called “Cult
of the Offensive” that so dominated the militaries of both France
and Germany. He argued that the newly modernized BEF had to
remain unfettered in its thinking and doctrine, ready to seize
and act upon any opportunity that appeared as the coming war
unfolded. Thus Haig’s thinking was a rather odd mixture of the
traditional and the modern. Like the other leading figures of
World War I, Haig would find the continuing transition to
modern war, though, rather difficult.
10 haig

In 1911 Haldane recalled Haig from India to take over the

prestigious Aldershot Command. In his new position Haig com-
manded the First and Second Infantry Divisions and the First
Cavalry Brigade—the only true army corps in the British Em-
pire. As an outsider from India Haig experienced some initial
difficulties in leading the most important command in Britain,
especially since he was only fifty and had been selected for the
position over several more senior generals. Haig’s main role now
centered around the training of what would become I Corps of
the BEF. In that task he succeeded admirably. Though at the
outset of war the BEF was small, it was quite possibly the best
trained army in the field, able to fend off much larger German
forces at both Mons and First Ypres. Haig’s work under Haldane
and now at Aldershot was, thus, critical first to the avoidance of
disaster and then to achieving ultimate victory.
Haig’s time at Aldershot brought out both the best and worst
of his character. Though he remained quite reserved, contempo-
raries noticed a mellowing in Haig’s character at this point, and
he was able to elicit the unquestioning support of his officers and
men. However, Haig again proved unable to master the political
aspects of command, and his inability to communicate re-
mained quite apparent. It was so bad that one of his subordi-
nates later referred to Haig as, “the most inarticulate man I have
ever met.”12 Shy and bumbling in public, Haig earned the ire of
professional politicians who he in turn viewed as both meddle-
some and tiresome. In the main his relations with politicians
would remain sour throughout the Great War and would con-
tribute to a costly series of clashes—most notably with David
Lloyd George.
By the time war clouds began to gather in 1914 Haig had very
nearly reached the pinnacle of British command. His views were,
in the main, standard for most of his generation. War had a def-
inite nature and would conform to a series of set rules. On this
point historians agree—Douglas Haig entered the Great War, as
did all other commanders, expecting to fight a conflict that con-
formed to past norms. However, World War I would in fact be-
 m i l i t a r y e d u c at i o n o f d o u g l a s h a i g 11

come the first modern, industrialized, total war. As such the con-
flict would shatter all accepted rules of warfare, leaving out-
matched commanders forced to improvise and extemporize a
new doctrine. It is on this point that historians differ. Did Dou-
glas Haig succeed in facing the new challenge and help to alter
war as he had helped to alter the British military? Or was Dou-
glas Haig an inarticulate and repressive obstacle to innovation
who succeeded only by accident?
 Chapter 2

A Corps Commander Rises to

Prominence

W hile haig was in command at Alder-

shot momentous events inexorably drew a distracted Great
Britain toward the cataclysm of World War I. At home Britain
struggled through a period of constitutional crisis and reform,
leading to the eventual passage of a controversial Home Rule
Bill for Ireland. The issue that had so plagued Britain for years,
though, was not destined for such an easy solution. In Ireland
civil war threatened as forces both in the Protestant North and
in the Catholic South armed to fight over the impending imple-
mentation of home rule. The crisis quickly escalated and led to
a confused series of events in 1914 known as the Curragh
Mutiny, in which several leading military figures indicated that
they would not obey a governmental order to coerce Ulster. For
his part Haig remained studiously neutral during the crisis, but
the possibility of civil war in Ireland did much to distract the
government of Herbert Asquith, the Prime Minister, at a pivotal
time in world history—so much so that the events drawing
12
a corps commander rises to prominence 13

Europe to war did not become the subject of governmental

focus until July, nearly a month after the assassination of
Austrian Archduke Francis Ferdinand in Sarajevo.
In the years since the ascension of Kaiser Wilhelm II to the
throne of the German Empire in 1888, a series of German diplo-
matic blunders had slowly driven Britain into the arms of its
hereditary enemy France. By 1904, in part because of an escalat-
ing naval race with Germany, the British and French had signed
the Entente Cordiale. An ensuing series of German and French
clashes over Morocco then served to harden the friendly agree-
ment into a de facto military alliance, though the British govern-
ment continued to treasure the illusion of choice in the matter of
war. By 1914, though, even the majority of the more pacifistic
members of the Asquith government had come to the conclusion
that Britain would have to aid France in the case of any German
invasion. Nearly all politicians and military men alike believed
that alone France would certainly lose such a conflict, as in 1870,
leading to a German domination of the continent of Europe and
a consequent threat to the very existence of the British Empire.
British fears became reality upon the German invasion of
France. Having long feared the coming of war, the continental
powers each stood ready, confident and secure in their detailed
military planning. The French relied on Plan 17, a direct and
rather unsubtle assault into Alsace-Lorraine. On the other hand,
Germany’s vaunted Schlieffen Plan called for an encirclement of
the French forces in Alsace-Lorraine prosecuted by armies
wheeling into France from the north. Though ingenious, the
German plan proved logistically unsound and made it impossi-
ble to win the ultimate victory. Britain, however, had under-
taken nothing more than a series of staff talks regarding possible
military actions to aid France in case of war. Thus Britain was in
many ways in the worst possible situation, committed to war but
with no true military plan for the conflict. As a result, as the
Asquith government moved to declare war upon Germany it
also called together Asquith’s leading military advisors, including
Haig, to extemporize a plan for war.
14 haig

The scheme that had resulted from the staff talks, largely de-
veloped by General Henry Wilson, called for the BEF to rush to
France and detrain at Maubeuge. After forming up the BEF
would then join the left (northern) flank of the French lines
near the city of Mons in Belgium. While the French attained
glorious victory further south adhering to the dictates of Plan
17, the BEF would be relegated to the rather mundane duty of
serving as a flank guard. The existence of such a plan, though,
came as a surprise to many within the British military. Field
Marshal Sir John French, elevated to command of the BEF, ad-
vocated altering the plan and landing the BEF on the coast at
Antwerp to cooperate with the Belgians in threatening the Ger-
man right flank. Though operations on the Belgian coast would
always remain something of a fixation for French,1 his plan was
rejected, but with war at hand British planning remarkably re-
mained undecided.
When it came Haig’s turn to speak, he came out against the
Antwerp scheme, questioning the ability of the tiny BEF to sur-
vive virtually alone against sustained German assault in such a
situation. Haig then went on to make several points to the as-
sembled military and political leaders, which deserve to be
quoted at length to demonstrate his military thinking at the
dawn of the Great War.
1st That Great Britain and Germany would be fighting for their ex-
istence. Therefore the war was bound to be a long war, and neither
would acknowledge defeat after a short struggle . . . I held that we
must organise our resources for a war of several years. 2nd Great
Britain must at once take in hand the creation of an Army. I men-
tioned one million as the number to aim at immediately, remarking
that that was the strength originally proposed for the Territorial
Force by Lord Haldane. Above all, we ought to aim at having a
strong and effective force when we came to discuss peace at a Con-
ference of the Great Powers. 3rd We only had a small number of
trained officers and N.C.O.s. These must be economised. The need
for efficient instructors would become at once apparent. I urged
that a considerable proportion of officers and N.C.O.s should be
withdrawn forthwith from the Expeditionary Force. . . . Lastly, my
a corps commander rises to prominence 15

advice was to send as strong an Expeditionary Force as possible, and

as soon as possible, to join the French Forces and to arrange to in-
crease that force as rapidly as possible.2
Thus it becomes apparent that Haig’s advice was critical in the
decision for the BEF to stand on the French left flank, where its
presence would play a crucial role in the coming struggle. Also,
while most military leaders in Europe prophesied a short, deci-
sive conflict, Haig realized that the war would quite likely be
long and difficult. Long enough indeed for Britain to raise and
equip a mass army for the first time in its history.
Within days the structure of the British wartime military was
set, with the irascible Field Marshal Sir Kitchener installed as
Secretary of State for War, French as the commander in chief of
the BEF and Haig as commander of I Corps. Kitchener affirmed
the plan to stand on the French left flank, and more importantly
chose to create a new volunteer army rather than rely upon the
proven territorial scheme. Both decisions caused Haig great
worry. Haig believed that the creation of the so-called “Kitch-
ener Army” would result in grave training deficiencies, leaving
the units at a distinct disadvantage against their German foes.
Regarding the military plan, Haig hoped that the tiny BEF
would not be wasted in battle before it had a chance even to ab-
sorb its reserve components.
Of greatest importance, though, was the troubled command
dynamic that quickly beset the BEF. The relationship between
French and Kitchener was strained and contentious from the
start.3 French was quite concerned that Kitchener, the most fa-
mous soldier in the Empire, would attempt to assert his own
personal command over the BEF. For his part Kitchener had
grave doubts concerning French’s ability and temperament. The
doubts and suspicions that existed between the two men placed
great strain on the leadership structure of the BEF, and would be
exacerbated in times of trouble.
Though thrilled to find himself in command of I Corps, and
determined to do his duty as a loyal subordinate, Haig also had
doubts concerning French’s command abilities. On August 11,
16 haig

on the occasion of a royal inspection of the Aldershot Com-

mand, King George V asked Haig his opinion of French:
I told him at once, as I felt it my duty to do so, that from my expe-
rience with Sir John in the South African War, he was certain to do
his utmost loyally to carry out any orders which the Government
might give him. I had grave doubts, however, whether either his
temper was sufficiently even or his military knowledge sufficiently
thorough to enable him to discharge properly the very difficult du-
ties which will devolve upon him during the coming operations
with Allies on the Continent. In my own heart, I know that French
is quite unfit for this great command at this time of crisis in our Na-
tion’s history. But I thought it sufficient to tell the King that I had
“doubts” about the selection.4
Though some historians contend that Haig schemed from
the beginning to supplant French as commander in chief of the
BEF, such was not the case. In a diary entry two days later Haig
outlined his intention to “behave as I did in the South African
War, namely to be thoroughly loyal and do my duty as a subor-
dinate should, trying all the time to see Sir John’s good qualities
and not his weak ones.”5 Though an open break was something
beyond Haig’s moral code and Haig remained loyal to French
for the time being, he also retained close ties to the King and to
Kitchener—ties he would later use as the continued strain of war
brought the command structure of the BEF to the breaking
point.
As the BEF made its way to the continent, with Haig’s arrival
taking place on August 16, the vast French and German military
machines moved forward with their respective war plans. Gen-
eral Joseph Joffre, the French commander in chief, prosecuted an
invasion of Alsace-Lorraine, but his First and Second Armies
faced unexpectedly stiff resistance and gained little ground. In-
deed, the Germans, under the command of General Hemluth
von Moltke, had altered the Schlieffen Plan to account for a
stronger defense against the French attack. Further north, a
weakened but still formidable German force of some sixty divi-
sions launched their great attempt at envelopment and first
a corps commander rises to prominence 17

steamrolled through Belgium. Fatefully, the British forces, form-

ing up near Maubeuge for an advance to Mons, would stand
squarely in the path of the mighty German advance.
As French efforts to advance in the south failed, intelligence
began to trickle in regarding the massive nature of the German
offensive in the north. Haig heard the rumors and wondered if
the tiny BEF was advancing to its doom. He was quite correct to
be concerned, for on August 23 the German First Army, under
the command of General Alexander von Kluck, slammed into
the BEF outside Mons. Severely outnumbered, the BEF fought
well, holding off the German advance and avoiding disaster. The
battle was, in the main, prosecuted by II Corps under the com-
mand of General Horace Smith-Dorrien, who had been given
the command by Kitchener over French’s objections, further
straining their fragile relationship.
With both flanks exposed following a French withdrawal, the
BEF extricated itself from battle and began a harrowing retreat
of its own, lasting for thirteen days and traversing nearly two
hundred miles under great strain and pressure from the un-
remitting German advance. The situation was so muddled dur-
ing the retreat from Mons that Haig once nearly drove into the
German lines, and on the night of the twenty-fifth was unchar-
acteristically unnerved by a German advance into the British bil-
let area at Landrecies. Even so, Haig remained in firm control,
and the BEF succeeded in executing one of the most difficult of
all military maneuvers—a retreat under fire.
Though it was once again II Corps that faced the brunt of the
German offensive, fighting a second sharp engagement at Le
Cateau, the retreat placed an almost unbearable strain on the en-
tire BEF. The situation was so bad that on August 30, French
proposed to take the BEF out of the line to refit. Only pressure
from both Kitchener and Joffre forced French to relent and
served to sustain his flagging morale.6 Though Haig’s spirit char-
acteristically remained rather more resilient, the epic retreat also
had an important effect on his thinking. Neither French nor
Haig had ever entirely trusted the abilities or the intentions of
18 haig

their French allies. As French actions consistently left his flank

exposed and disrupted his own logistic plans for retreat, Haig’s
annoyance grew ever greater. He even described the French as,
“so unreliable. One cannot believe a word they say as a rule.”7
Haig realized that the French in many ways controlled the Allied
war effort, and he would make every effort to conform to their
designs. However, he first and foremost remained loyal to
Britain and the BEF. The subtle interplay between the forces
competing for Haig’s loyalty, the need to cooperate with the
French, and his overarching dedication to the BEF remained a
central theme for the remainder of the conflict. On many occa-
sions Haig would subsume his own planning for the greater
good of the Alliance, but he always retained a healthy suspicion
of French motives and abilities.
While the BEF was in retreat the realities of the Great War
would begin to assert themselves in earnest. Finally realizing that
his beloved Plan 17 had come to ruin, Joffre only belatedly re-
acted to the massive German advance in the north. Though the
situation was critical, Joffre exhibited a surety of purpose and a
confidence that would also come to epitomize the personality of
Douglas Haig. Unperturbed by impending disaster, Joffre
shifted his forces northward in an effort to halt the German
advance before it reached Paris. It was a gargantuan and compli-
cated task, but Joffre was able to rely on lateral rail communica-
tions to make good his move, while the Germans could only
advance at the speed of marching soldiers. In what would be-
come one of the driving strategic realities of the Great War, Jof-
fre’s shift northward demonstrated that defenders could always
react, moving troops laterally more quickly than attackers could
advance. Even before the onset of trench warfare the great Ger-
man advance of 1914 fell victim to the realities of the time, for
the advantage in World War I would forever lie with the de-
fender.
By September 5, the German offensive had lost much of its
momentum, in part because of logistical difficulties and poor
leadership. As a result the German armies were forced to wheel to
a corps commander rises to prominence 19

the east of Paris, offering their vulnerable flank to the gathering

Allied forces. Joffre seized his chance and ordered an attack, hav-
ing to press a now quite reluctant Field Marshal French to com-
mit the BEF to the scheme. The resultant Battle of the Marne, in
which the BEF played an important role, was a close-run and
rather confused affair that ended when Moltke in effect lost
command of his forces, leading to a German retreat from the
gates of Paris to defensive positions on the Aisne River. During
the struggle French’s optimism returned and he dared hope again
for a quick and decisive victory over the retreating Germans.
Haig was also momentarily swept up in the enthusiasm, even
questioning his own belief in a long war.8 However, as I Corps
gained contact with the German defenses along the Aisne, Haig
quickly realized that the nature of the war had changed. In a brief
struggle Haig’s force failed to dent the rather sketchy German de-
fensive network. To Haig, a devotee of mobile warfare, the static,
positional battle along the Aisne was confusing in nature. He was
not alone, for the resulting fighting was anathema to both the
Germans and the Allies, who desperately attempted to maintain
a war of movement by a series of outflanking movements toward
the north—but a war of attrition had already begun.9
In the period rather inappropriately known as the “race to the
sea,” both French and German forces moved north at relatively
the same speed in vain attempts to locate an open flank. Soon
combatant forces reached the English Channel, with control of
the Belgian ports of Ostende and Zeebrugge falling to the Ger-
mans. Though unexpected at the time, German control over the
ports and the resultant threat to British shipping and control of
the Channel would become central to British wartime thinking
and strategy. French, who had regained his confidence and was
quite attracted to the idea of operations along the coast in coop-
eration with the Royal Navy, fully supported the Allied north-
ward movement. Joffre, however, remained skeptical of British
intentions, believing that location near the coast would only
make a BEF retreat to Britain more likely if disaster once again
ensued.10
20 haig

As events to the north ran their course Haig’s I Corps disen-

gaged from battle on the Aisne and made its way into the Allied
line near the Belgian city of Ypres. Fired by optimism and be-
lieving that the German forces to its front were weak and disor-
ganized, French ordered the BEF to advance from Ypres to
capture Bruges. French indeed hoped that the BEF would now
play its great role in the decisive battle that would turn the tide
of war. Though Haig greeted the orders with optimism, infor-
mation from his controversial intelligence chief, Brigadier Gen-
eral John Charteris, indicated that the Germans were present
near Ypres in much greater numbers than French had antici-
pated.11 In fact General Erich von Falkenhayen, who had sup-
planted Moltke as commander in chief, had shifted a great
weight of German forces to the area in an effort to break
through the Allied lines and drive to the coast, hoping to make
the BEF quit the war. Thus as British forces moved to the of-
fensive, they ran headlong into the advancing German armies,
with the Germans enjoying a local superiority in troop strength
of five to one.
On October 19, the twin attacks crashed together outside
Ypres. Haig soon realized that the Germans were greatly superior
in numbers, and were not retreating as expected, but were in-
stead launching a very dangerous attack. French, though, re-
mained confused regarding the reality of the situation for several
days—committing additional forces to a fruitless offensive when
he should have been concentrating on desperate defensive meas-
ures. After a series of disorganized encounter battles Falken-
hayen seized the initiative on October 31, by launching a major
effort to shatter the British lines near Gheluvelt along the famed
Menin Road. The bulk of the offensive broke against Haig’s I
Corps, and the resulting situation quickly developed into one of
the most important moments of the entire war. The strength of
the German assault forced the British cavalry off of the strategic
Messines Ridge, cavalry forces that had been operating effec-
tively as mounted infantry. However, the most critical moment
of the battle came near Gheluvelt.
a corps commander rises to prominence 21

With fairly little subtlety the massed German force rushed the
lines of the British First Division. Concentrated defensive fire
caused the Germans fearsome losses, but still Gheluvelt fell and
the lines of the First Division very nearly shattered. As the fluid
situation ebbed and flowed, Haig enjoyed only intermittent con-
tact with his frontline troops. Dissatisfied amid the confusion
and realizing that the situation was dire Haig decided to ride to
the front in an effort to gather information and to rally his
forces. Unbeknownst to him, at the same time a counterattack
by the Second Worcesters had reclaimed the situation and con-
vinced Falkenhayen that victory was beyond his grasp that day.
Thus Haig’s decision to move forward was not critical to the bat-
tle, but serves to testify to his personal bravery. The battle had
been a very close-run thing, and in reality the BEF had come
very close to disaster, averted when Falkenhayen misinterpreted
the situation and failed to press home his advantage. Some his-
torians claim that the near German victory was formative to
Haig’s World War I experience. Had Falkenhayn only persevered
he might have achieved success. As a result, in similar situations
Haig would choose to persevere long after the hope of victory
had passed.12
After a comparative lull in the fighting, during which the
rates of attrition and exertion remained high, on November 11
the Germans launched their final major attempt to break the Al-
lied positions. Though much of the fighting again fell to Haig’s
depleted I Corps, French forces continued to play a major role in
the battle and indeed the decisive role in the overall struggle.
Haig, however, remained concerned regarding French planning
and fighting ability, contending that their commanders still ex-
hibited a propensity to retreat, leaving British forces vulnerable.
He evidenced his frustrations in a diary entry stating that the
French should, “treat us fairly! Because ever since we landed in
France they seem ready to drain the last drop of blood out of the
British force!”13
The weight of the German attack concentrated again in the
area around the Menin Road. Though the Germans nearly
22 haig

achieved a decisive success, the BEF held firm, finally repulsing

the German advance with heavy losses. Though the fighting lin-
gered, in tandem with the French the BEF had won a victory in
the First Battle of Ypres, but at a high cost. In fact the BEF that
had crossed to France at the beginning of the war had ceased to
exist. The First Battle of Ypres alone had cost Britain 50,000 ca-
sualties. Haig’s I Corps, with a normal establishment of 18,000
men, had been reduced to 68 officers and 2,776 other ranks. The
BEF was a spent force, and would be replaced in the line by the
burgeoning numbers of the Kitchener Army and other units
called in from around the globe. In the wake of First Ypres,
Haig’s I Corps left the line to refit, and Haig, now promoted to
full general, went on a short leave in Britain. In France and Flan-
ders both opposing forces began to dig in for the winter. The war
of movement, the conflict that Haig knew so well and was pre-
pared to fight, had come to a conclusion. The hell of trench war-
fare was about to begin.
 Chapter 3

Commander of the BEF

A s both combatant forces began to dig in

during the winter of 1914–1915 the nature of World War I
changed fundamentally. Instead of the mobile and decisive war-
fare that Haig had been taught to expect at Staff College and
had prepared for ever since, the Great War settled down into a
trench stalemate that seemingly defied solution. Though the
trench systems of 1915 were rudimentary, they would soon be
transformed into defensive networks miles in depth, protected
by massive belts of barbed wire, studded with daunting strong
points, and bristling with defensive firepower. The vexing prob-
lem seemed rather simple in nature. What was the best way to
evict defending forces from their trench networks, thus reinstat-
ing a war of movement and making decisive victory possible?
Trench warfare in actuality proved to be a riddle with a very
difficult solution, for everything in the Great War favored the
defender. Once dug in, defending forces could use the defensive
prowess of newly developed machine guns and quick-firing ar-
tillery pieces to call down a “storm of steel,” capable of obliterat-
ing an army caught in the open waste of no-man’s-land. These
23
24 haig

same weapons systems that so dominated the Great War,

though, were of little use to attackers. Machine guns were ini-
tially far too heavy and cumbersome for offensive purposes. Ar-
tillery, though quite deadly, was being used for the first time in
an exclusive “indirect fire” mode. In essence the gunners were
firing at targets they could not see—sometimes up to fifteen
miles distant. Though the artillery would make quantum leaps
in ability during the Great War, it was at first hopelessly inaccu-
rate, making the destruction of enemy trenches and strong
points virtually impossible. In fact artillery was so inaccurate
that if a gun fired one hundred shells at an unseen trench, only
two would register direct hits, and, taking production problems
into consideration, chances were that one of the direct hits
would be a dud.1 Infantry, with their bayonets and rifles, were of
little use against an entrenched foe, unable either to cut through
barbed wire unaided or to seize enemy strong points alone. Thus
the state of weaponry during the Great War tilted the delicate
balance of warfare toward the defender.
Finally, attacking forces in the Great War lacked two all-
important things: communications and a weapon of exploita-
tion. Before World War I commanders had been able to see their
battlefield and control it through the use of runners. Robert E.
Lee, for instance, could often see almost the entire battlefield
and was able to issue instructions to his forces with relative ease.
The Industrial Revolution, however, changed that. Battlefields
were now vast, often covering hundreds of miles. Communica-
tions technology, though, had not kept pace. World War II com-
manders could rely on radio communications to control their
forces, but commanders in the Great War did not have that lux-
ury, for their radios were primitive and cumbersome. In World
War I once attacking forces left their trenches, commanders vir-
tually lost all contact with their men, and thus all control of the
battle.2
Civil War and Napoleonic generals had a weapon upon which
to rely that afforded the chance to convert victory into a rout:
Haig’s beloved cavalry. On the western front, though, cavalry
 commander of the bef 25

would prove to be of limited use, even more vulnerable than in-

fantry when caught in the open. After World War I generals
could rely on the speed of armor to win lightning-quick victories
over defending forces. Thus the Great War was the single mod-
ern war that lacked a weapon of exploitation, that could use
speed to transform a tactical victory into a strategic advance—
the very goal taught so well in staff colleges across Europe.
On the offensive, then, Great War generals were at a tremen-
dous disadvantage in weaponry. Battles could not effectively be
commanded because of lack of communications, and armies
could only advance as fast as their feet allowed. Defenders,
though, suffered fewer communication woes. Able to make use
of telegraph and telephone communications and rail transport
far behind the lines, defenders always knew more about the bat-
tle than attackers and could rush reinforcements to the scene to
stem any possible breakthrough. The technological realities of
the turn of the century thus dictated a defensive war. Defenders
could outshoot, out-think, and outmaneuver attackers.3
Haig and the other commanders of the Great War were, in
many ways, nineteenth century military leaders thrust into the
first industrial, total war of the twentieth century. Militarily
raised on the primacy of the offensive and the central impor-
tance of morale, Haig now found himself in a war dominated by
firepower and the defensive. Thus Haig faced one of the most
daunting problems provided by modern military history. Lack-
ing the proper weaponry and communications, how should the
BEF, in tandem with the French, endeavor to overcome the de-
fensive prowess of the German trench system in an effort to
achieve victory? The current nature of weaponry and communi-
cations stood against the notion of attack. Indeed many histori-
ans claim that Haig’s own training and temperament also
mitigated against the innovation needed to find a solution to
trench warfare.4 Seemingly against all odds, though, during the
coming years of the Great War, eventually the BEF would adapt
to the realities of trench warfare, making use of difficult on-the-
job military training, increasing military professionalism, and
26 haig

advances in technology to solve the riddle of trench warfare and

thus lay the foundations of truly modern war. Historians,
though, remain divided as to whether Douglas Haig played an
indispensable role in the improvement of the British military or
whether he was a deterrent to change and thus caused the need-
less loss of thousands of lives.
At the close of 1914 French had reorganized the BEF into two
armies, with Haig in command of First Army, which comprised
I Corps, IV Corps, and the Indian Corps. While the French
mustered rather sporadic assaults against the German salient in
central France during the winter, the BEF was refitting and pon-
dering its strategic options. French and Haig were certain of one
thing: that the war, though difficult, would only be won in the
western front, and that any diversion of resources to other the-
aters of war was misguided. In early 1915 French supported the
idea of a British attack along the Belgian coast aimed at turning
the Germans out of Ostende and Zeebrugge, an idea that would
also strike Haig’s fancy and remain part of his strategic thinking
for the remainder of the conflict. Joffre predictably argued
against such a course of action, instead supporting a combined
Franco-British offensive designed to drive the Germans from
France.
French, though he had some support from Kitchener, also
met considerable resistance for his planning within the British
government. Beginning what is known as the “Easterner-West-
erner Debate,” several British politicians, notably David Lloyd
George, favored using the strength of the British fleet to strike at
less stalwart foes than Germany. The debate would rage
throughout the Great War, with varying results, and with Haig a
constant advocate of the necessity of defeating the Germans on
the western front. In this instance, though, French lost the argu-
ment, resulting in men and matériel being diverted from the
western front for offensive action first in the Dardanelles and
later at Gallipoli aimed against the Ottoman Empire.5 French
now found his forces stretched thin and as a result had to aban-
don independent offensive action in favor of closer cooperation
 commander of the bef 27

with the French military. The rather haphazard method of Allied

strategic and tactical planning would remain a glaring deficiency
until the onset of a truly unified system of coalition warfare in
1918.
Joffre’s plan for combined action called first for a Franco-
British assault on the Aubers Ridge, which would serve as a di-
version before the main French assault in Champagne. French
agreed to the idea and placed the planning for the battle in the
hands of Haig, who chose to attack in the area around Neuve
Chapelle. A complication quickly developed when Joffre an-
nounced the cancellation of the French portion of the fighting at
Neuve Chapelle, but French decided to go ahead with the
planned offensive on his own. The resulting Battle of Neuve
Chapelle was the first major British offensive of the Great War
and was formative to Haig’s military development. It was to be
his first true test of command, and it set precedents and trends
he would follow for the remainder of the conflict.
In early February 1915, Haig turned planning of the proposed
offensive at Neuve Chapelle over to General Sir Henry Rawlin-
son, Commander of IV Corps. The fact that Haig hoped that
planning for the offensive would take only ten days serves as an-
other indicator that he, like the other commanders of his time,
still had much to learn about the realities of combat in the Great
War. Rawlinson also demonstrated that he too had much to
learn by dawdling over his planning and then finally producing
a rather complicated and unworkable scheme for a dual assault
on Neuve Chapelle. Haig overruled his subordinate and sug-
gested an assault carried out in a more “simple common sense
way.”6 Rawlinson adjusted his planning accordingly, and chose
to rely upon a massive artillery barrage to subdue the rather rudi-
mentary German defenses around Neuve Chapelle. Since in-
fantry could have but little effect on entrenched defenders,
artillery was obviously the way forward in the Great War.
Though opinions varied, Rawlinson and Haig decided to rely at
this juncture on a bombardment of short duration in an effort to
retain the element of surprise. To their credit Rawlinson and
28 haig

Haig managed to gather 340 artillery pieces, the weaponry of

four divisions plus heavier guns drawn from Britain, for the of-
fensive. The number, though dwarfed by artillery amassed later
in the conflict, represented one gun for every six yards of enemy
trench in the area of the assault. Though the weight of shell was
prodigious, the artillery, unable accurately to strike what it could
not see, faced a stern test. In essence the fortunes of the entire
battle rested with the artillery, which had to crush the German
wire, destroy German strong points, hinder German reinforce-
ment, and silence the defending German artillery. The task was
simply too vast.
Rawlinson planned for his infantry to advance in column for-
mations in the wake of the crushing artillery barrage and to seize
the wreckage of Neuve Chapelle. Haig, however, wanted more
and again altered Rawlinson’s plan, instructing that:
The advance to be made is not a minor operation. It must be un-
derstood that we are embarking on a serious offensive movement
with the object of breaking the German line and consequently our
advance is to be pushed vigorously. Very likely an operation of con-
siderable magnitude may result.
The idea is not to capture a trench here, or a trench there, but to
carry the operation right through; in a sense surprise the Germans,
carry them right off their legs, push forward to the Aubers . . . ridge
with as little delay as possible and exploit the success thus gained by
pushing forward mounted troops forthwith.7
Given his training and belief system, at this point in the war
it is to be expected that Haig hoped for great things, even from
a rather limited offensive. After hearing his chief ’s scheme,
Rawlinson, whether out of duty or out of conviction, quickly
became a convert to the desire to aim for greater goals. Though
Haig was not alone in his desires or his belief in the possibility of
a breakthrough offensive it was at this point that one of the fun-
damental arguments of the Great War was born. Should offen-
sives aim for distant objectives or more limited goals? In
hindsight it is easy to realize that overly ambitious offensives in
World War I would come to grief. However, neither Haig nor
 commander of the bef 29

Rawlinson could have realized the changed nature of war in the

buildup to Neuve Chapelle. The most important question,
though, is what would these men and others like them across the
western front learn from their mistakes?
Haig’s offensive at Neuve Chapelle finally rolled forward on
March 10, following a thirty-five-minute bombardment. The
British Seventh and Eighth Divisions, along with the Indian
Corps—numbering some twelve thousand men—attacked, fac-
ing only two thousand German defenders in a forward trench
backed by concrete machine gun strong points. Though Rawlin-
son’s forces held the initial advantage, he realized that it would
not hold long, for he estimated that the Germans could rush six-
teen thousand reinforcements to the battle area within two
days—necessitating Haig’s desire for a quick advance. Initially
the attack went quite well, the stunned Germans offering little
resistance as Neuve Chapelle itself fell by mid-morning. How-
ever, in the center of the line the Twenty-third Brigade and the
Indian Corps to the south had rather slower going in part be-
cause of poor artillery preparation. Thus the opening phase of
the offensive was rather a mixed bag.
Due to poor communications, though, Rawlinson knew little
of what transpired, and Haig even less. Reliant upon runners,
the news that Rawlinson received regarding his advancing forces
was often incorrect and always out of date. In the most famous
example, when Rawlinson finally received notice of the stranded
Twenty-third Brigade he altered his planning to aid in its ad-
vance. By the time his orders were carried out, though, a re-
newed bombardment had enabled the Twenty-third to gain its
objectives. At the same time further south elements of the
Twenty-fifth Brigade had driven through the main German de-
fenses and halted while awaiting reinforcements and orders. Be-
cause he learned too late that success beckoned in the south, the
opportunity for a possible breakthrough in the area had passed
before Rawlinson could react. Thus because of the communica-
tions problems Rawlinson had, he would continue to misuse his
reserve forces during Neuve Chapelle. That the Twenty-fifth
30 haig

Brigade had seemingly very nearly achieved a breakthrough

would be critical to Haig’s conclusions regarding the battle. It
seemed that the formula for success had worked, but the system
had failed. In actuality, though, a breakthrough had never really
beckoned, for the Germans had already rushed reinforcements
to the scene and stood ready to face a renewed assault.8
On the afternoon of March 10 Rawlinson finally gathered his
reinforcements together to leapfrog through his advanced lines
toward Aubers Ridge, but the resulting attack was a confused
failure. Having no time to register their weapons on the new
German defenses, the covering artillery bombardment was short
and ineffective, even raining down on the newly won British
lines. On the following day the British struck again, but now
faced considerable German reinforcements in a maze of newly
constructed and unobserved defensive positions. The covering
artillery bombardment lasted only fifteen minutes and was
hopelessly inaccurate. The artillery had had a great deal of time
to prepare for the first day’s assault, locating German trenches
and strong points and preregistering fire. On the second day,
though, many of the artillery pieces had been moved and there
had been no preregistration. In fact it was not known where
many of the new German defenses were located. Thus the ar-
tillery fired blind, and failed to destroy the German wire or to si-
lence the growing German defensive fire. Predictably the attack
came to grief, with many men being shot down as soon as they
exited their own trenches. On the third day of the battle the
Germans mounted a stiff counterattack, only to be mown down
in their turn, with a subsequent British attack again gaining but
little. Realizing that the initiative had been lost, Haig and Rawl-
inson brought the Battle of Neuve Chapelle to a close after only
three days. The British had penetrated the German lines to a
depth of 1,000 meters and captured Neuve Chapelle at a cost of
twelve thousand casualties while inflicting a similar number of
losses on the Germans.
In retrospect the results of Neuve Chapelle point out many of
the weaknesses of the offensive in the Great War. Having
32 haig

achieved surprise and under the cover of a meticulous bombard-

ment, British forces were able to advance with relative ease
against the first line of German defenses. Very quickly, though,
the realities of the Great War had conspired to dash British
hopes. Rawlinson had been unable effectively to command the
battle because of poor communications. The Germans had been
able to react with great speed to the threat, tipping the balance
against the British. Thus the attack had very quickly lost its mo-
mentum, even while the main weapon of the attacker, artillery,
had become less and less effective due to the fluidity of the bat-
tlefield situation. The realities of the Great War would place a
definite life span on offensive actions, allowing attackers to break
in to the enemy defensive systems, but never to break through.
Again, though, these lessons are part of historical hindsight, a
blessing not granted to Haig and Rawlinson, who were left to
learn their own lessons from the battle.
As it happens, Rawlinson and Haig drew quite different con-
clusions from Neuve Chapelle. For his part Rawlinson focused
on the power of well-sited artillery to allow the infantry access to
the German frontline trenches. As a result Rawlinson became
one of the first and most important proponents of “bite and
hold” tactics.
What we want to do now is what I call ‘bite and hold’. Bite off a
piece of the enemy’s line, like Neuve Chapelle, and hold it against
counter attack. The bite can be made without much loss, and, if we
choose the right place & make every preparation to put it quickly in
a state of defence there ought to be no difficulty in holding it
against the enemy’s counter attacks & inflicting on him at least
twice the loss we have suffered in making the bite.9

The drawback to Rawlinson’s plan, of course, was that it would

require a vast number of such bites to make a significant dent in
the German lines, resulting in an unthinkable war of attrition.
Haig, though, remained more optimistic, focusing on the
seeming missed opportunity afforded on the first day of the of-
fensive. Believing that if the command malfunctions of the day
 commander of the bef 33

could be mastered breakthrough was still possible, Haig looked

to make good the mistakes of Neuve Chapelle and still believed
in decisive battle.10 Haig was certainly not alone in his thinking,
for most of the leading commanders of the Great War, from Jof-
fre to Ludendorff, retained a similar adherence to the idea of
breakthrough and a restoration of a war of movement. Thus,
though some important lessons had been learned from Neuve
Chapelle, the “learning curve” had only just begun.
Spurred onward by their recent success, though they had
differing interpretations of its meaning, French, Haig, and
Rawlinson all favored a renewal of the British offensive on
Aubers Ridge, again as part of a plan to divert forces from a
proposed French offensive further south. Falkenhayen, though,
preempted Allied planning by launching a second German of-
fensive in Flanders. The Second Battle of Ypres, marked by the
first major use of poison gas in the Great War, involved mainly
the Second Army under the command of Smith-Dorrien, leav-
ing Haig to work on his proposed offensive, but the continued
diversion of military resources to the war against the Ottoman
Empire and a growing and controversial shortage of artillery
shells played havoc with Haig’s planning. He had hoped to re-
new the offensive with greater strength than before, hoping
also to achieve greater goals. However, by May Haig realized
that his strength was too limited to achieve a great result, and
he adjusted his planning accordingly, aiming at more limited
objectives.11
When the IV Corps moved forward into the Battle of Aubers
Ridge on May 9, though, the results were even less than Haig
had expected. Though the weight of the artillery barrage at
Aubers Ridge was similar to that of Neuve Chapelle, it had to
cover a much more dense German defensive system, thus dilut-
ing its effectiveness. In essence, then, the all-important bom-
bardment at Aubers Ridge was only one-fifth the intensity of
that at Neuve Chapelle.12 Faced with much stronger German de-
fensive works, including a triple line of trenches, and covered by
a much weaker and inaccurate barrage, the assault at Aubers
34 haig

Ridge gained very little ground. Though initially hoping to re-

verse the failure, Haig—much to his credit—called off the of-
fensive immediately.
The failure of the barrage, owing in part to technical reasons
such as wear on artillery barrels and weather conditions, gave
Haig pause. It seemed that there remained several problems in-
herent in the attack that had yet to be solved before decisive bat-
tle could be waged. As a result, though the French, who were
attacking further south at Vimy Ridge, asked for an immediate
continuation of the British offensive, Haig pressed French for
permission to wait. Haig informed his chief that:
The defences on our front are so carefully and so strongly made, and
mutual support with machine-guns so complete, that in order to
demolish them a long methodical bombardment will be necessary
by heavy artillery (guns and howitzers) before Infantry are sent for-
ward to attack. . . . Accurate observations of each shot will be
arranged so as to make sure of flattening out the enemy’s ‘strong
points’ of support, before the Infantry is launched.13

Haig instead favored a much more methodical assault aimed at

overwhelming the system of German strong points.14 Thus,
though Haig still contended that a breakthrough was possible,
he believed that it could only be achieved through a preponder-
ance of artillery fire and a great weight of infantry. When those
conditions did not exist he was quite satisfied with and able to
prosecute battles that were more limited in nature, adhering to
Rawlinson’s “bite and hold” technique.
Six days later the First Army again attacked, beginning the
Battle of Festubert. The ten-day offensive was successful in many
areas, penetrating the German lines to a depth of 1,000 meters at
a cost of sixteen thousand casualties. Though predictably the
greatest gains of the offensive came in its earliest moments, the
overall results were much more like those of Neuve Chapelle and
helped to restore the confidence of both Haig and French in de-
cisive victory. A following minor offensive at Givenchy in June
did nothing to alter Haig’s enthusiasm. Following the battle a
 commander of the bef 35

period of relative inactivity set in for nearly three months as

French began to plan for the next major British offensive. How-
ever, during the lull in the fighting a storm broke upon the po-
litical scene that would lead to Haig taking command of the
BEF.
French, who was under great pressure to achieve dramatic re-
sults on the western front, blamed much of his continued failure
on a growing and critical lack of artillery shells. The leadership
of the BEF had reached the conclusion that weight of artillery
fire was of paramount importance to a successful advance, and
French blamed Kitchener for the shortage that was so debilitat-
ing to his success. Fearing for his command, French leaked the
story of the shell shortage, telling war correspondent Charles Re-
pington that it was “a fatal bar to our success.”15 The resultant
“shell scandal” caused great controversy and helped to hasten the
fall of the Asquith regime and the formation of a coalition
wartime government. Kitchener, though his prestige was weak-
ened, remained in office, and his already strained relations with
and confidence in French suffered greatly. Though Haig avoided
direct involvement in the controversy his connections to both
Kitchener and to the King remained close and intact. At the
same time Haig grew ever more certain that the mercurial, and
now more vulnerable, French was not the proper man to com-
mand the BEF.
Joffre remained convinced of the usefulness of one further
great combined offensive in the west before the close of the year.
Though Haig advocated yet another operation in the area of
Aubers Ridge, Joffre pressed for an assault at the conjunction of
the French and British armies near the town of Loos. After sur-
veying the area Haig commented that the ground to be covered
was quite difficult, including many coal slag heaps. For this rea-
son he and French both initially advocated a more limited as-
sault—in Haig’s words, “to be made chiefly with artillery and I
am not to launch a large force of infantry to the attack of objec-
tives which are so strongly held as to result only in the sacrifice
of many lives.” Joffre, aided by Kitchener, instead pushed for a
36 haig

greater British commitment, and French “decided that we must

act with all our energy, and do our utmost to help the French,
even though, by so doing, we suffered very heavy losses indeed.” 16
Thus Haig and Rawlinson came to plan the Battle of Loos. Both
men, vacillating between the options of bite and hold and the at-
tempt at a breakthrough, made ready for an offensive designed
to overthrow the powerful German defenses in the area and ad-
vance to depth.
With relatively little interference from Haig, Rawlinson drew
up the tactical plan of advance. Once again reliant on artillery
support and preparation, IV Corps, which now contained many
untried Kitchener Army units, made ready to assault Loos and
Hill 70 before breaking into and through the second line of Ger-
man defenses in the area. Despite careful planning, though, the
artillery preparation was less than perfect. Using 251 artillery
pieces, IV Corps enjoyed artillery cover of only one-fifth as
strong as that at Neuve Chapelle. Again the difficulties were
caused by shell shortages and stronger and more numerous Ger-
man defensive positions. In some areas where the artillery fire
was adequate, great gains would accrue. However, in others the
wire would not even be cut, leading to disaster.17
For his part Haig spent much of his time leading up to the bat-
tle dealing with the question of reserves. Haig had learned with
the supposed missed opportunity at Neuve Chapelle that ade-
quate reserves had to be on hand very close to the front lines,
ready to make use of any fleeting opportunity to seize the initia-
tive. The scope of the coming offensive, however, left IV Corps
without an organic reserve force. Thus the main reserves for the
battle—the Twenty-first, Twenty-fourth, and the Guards Divi-
sions—remained under the control of French himself. Haig
pressed for the ability to place the reserves as close to the line as
deemed possible. However, French demurred and Haig began the
Battle of Loos with his reserve formations, in his mind, too far
back from the front to make a critical difference in the battle.18
On September 25, after a four-day artillery barrage and the
first major British use of poison gas, Rawlinson’s leading divisions
 commander of the bef 37

launched their assault. On the right flank the Forty-seventh Di-

vision achieved its initial goals and served as a flank guard. Fur-
ther to the left, the First Division met with serious resistance and
faced a great deal of uncut barbed wire; it advanced only rather
slowly. Again communication difficulties served to muddle the
situation, costing Rawlinson valuable time in sorting out the dif-
ficulties on the left flank. In the center, though, a great opportu-
nity seemed to beckon. The Fifteenth Division, though it
suffered heavy initial losses, broke through the German frontline
trench and quickly seized the tactically important Hill 70. At this
point Haig hoped to throw the reserves into the battle, but they
were located too far behind the line to do any good. The oppor-
tunity to break through the German lines had vanished, in Haig’s
mind, as a result of French’s continued mismanagement.19
As at Neuve Chapelle, though, there remains considerable
doubt as to whether any opportunity beckoned at all. The ex-
hausted men on Hill 70 now faced an intact German second line
trench, with very little in the way of artillery support. In addi-
tion the Germans were predictably rushing reinforcements to
the scene. Again, in historical hindsight it is clear that the timely
arrival of the reserves would not have achieved a great victory.
However, to Haig the circumstantial evidence of Loos indicated
that, like Neuve Chapelle, a breakthrough had beckoned.
Chagrined that the opportunity had been lost, but un-
daunted, Haig committed the reserve forces to battle on the sec-
ond day of the offensive. With minimal artillery support the
Twenty-first and Twenty-fourth Divisions assaulted the intact
and recently reinforced German lines to the east of Hill 70 with
disastrous results. Though the tempo of the battle then slowed
considerably, the French, still attacking further south, required a
continuation of the British offensive to draw off German re-
serves. Thus the Battle of Loos lingered on until October 16,
eventually achieving meager additional gains at the cost of over
fifty thousand casualties.
The failure to achieve victory at Loos had capped a poor year
for the BEF. Despite a heavy loss of life, victory had not been
38 haig

forthcoming and elements of the government and the popular

press clamored for a change of Britain’s wartime leadership. In
London Kitchener received much of the blame, while French
was the obvious villain of the piece on the battlefront. Haig and
other leading officers had also come to the conclusion that
French was now too great a liability to the war effort. For Haig
much of his growing discontent with French centered around
the controversial role of the reserve forces at Loos. French and
Kitchener were both ready for a fall, and Haig had just disagree-
ments with both men. While he did undoubtedly play a role in
their demise, it seems fairly certain that Haig did not play that
role in an attempt to gain higher position. Haig was rightly con-
cerned that the highest level of leadership of the British military
had failed in its assigned duties.
In the coming political turmoil Haig corresponded in the
main with both Kitchener himself and with the King. Haig also
corresponded with General Sir William Robertson, then serving
as French’s chief of staff, who was in London at the behest of the
government and who was himself on the brink of a career break-
through. In October Haig made his position abundantly clear to
King George V, who bluntly asked Haig his opinion of French:
I told him that I thought the time to have removed French was af-
ter the Retreat, because he had so mismanaged matters, and shown
in the handling of the small Expeditionary Force in the Field a great
ignorance of the essential principles of war. Since then, during the
trench warfare, the Army had grown larger and I thought at first
there was no great scope for French to go wrong. I have therefore
done my utmost to stop criticisms and make matters run smoothly.
But French’s handling of the reserves in the last battle, his obstinacy,
and conceit, showed his incapacity, and it seemed to me impossible
for anyone to prevent him doing the same things again. I therefore
thought strongly, that, for the sake of the Empire, French ought to
be removed.20
Though Haig’s actions were not central to the issue, the mili-
tary regime and uneasy alliance between Kitchener and French
came crashing down in December 1915. Kitchener remained in
 commander of the bef 39

office as Secretary of State for War, but had his executive powers
greatly reduced. Instead Robertson took over as chief of a revi-
talized Imperial General Staff and would serve in that capacity as
the principal military advisor to the government. French was rel-
egated to leading the Home Forces in Britain, and Haig took
French’s place as commander in chief of the burgeoning British
Expeditionary Force.
Thus Haig, partly through ability and partly through political
connections, had risen to the most important military command
in British history. As the principal architect of many of the ma-
jor battles of the BEF in 1915 Haig undoubtedly had the most
applicable experience of any possible candidate for the job. In his
new position Haig would draw upon the lessons that he had
learned in the difficult battles of 1915 to point him toward vic-
tory in subsequent, much larger, offensives under his command.
Though he had learned that attrition and methodical advance
had their place in battle, something much more substantial
seemed possible if only the BEF could overcome problems of
communication, use of reserves, and artillery performance. In
the words of historian Paddy Griffith:
One point that is often missed about these small and unsuccessful
battles of 1915 is that several of them could show at least a few mo-
ments when the infantry actually came very close to complete vic-
tory. At both Neuve Chapelle and Loos some of the assaulting
divisions experienced the heady sensation of walking calmly across
No Man’s Land in their regulation waves, without undue interfer-
ence from the enemy. . . . Admittedly such successes had a lot to do
with the state of the German defences, the cleverness of BEF
staffwork and the intensity of the artillery preparation; but to many
infantry commanders it must have seemed as though there had been
no real break from the nineteenth-century experience. In the past it
had generally been possible for massed column attacks to roll over
even the most formidable defences, given the right sort of prepara-
tion: and now in 1915 exactly the same phenomenon seemed to be
repeated.21
 Chapter 4

The Death of a Generation?

The Battle of the Somme

T he task facing Haig upon his assumption of the

command of the BEF was daunting in a strategic sense, but also
in a purely practical sense. Britain’s army had historically always
been rather small, but during the Great War, because of an
influx of volunteers, the BEF mushroomed in size, becoming
the largest army Britain had ever, or would ever, put into the
field. At the beginning of the conflict the BEF numbered
120,000 men, but by December 1915 the tiny force had risen to
a strength of 986,000, to 1.5 million by July 1916, and above 1.8
million throughout the remainder of the war. Haig and his staff
did well in dealing with the gargantuan and unforeseen task of
supply and control of such a large military force. The adminis-
tration of “discipline, promotion, leave, movements of units,
bath-houses, mail, supplies of boots, whale-oil, plum and apple
jam, barbed wire, planks for roads and trenches, forage and fod-
der, placed an administrative burden on the staff beyond any-
thing imagined before 1914.” Though certainly not all of the
40
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 41

day-to-day managerial drudgery of the BEF fell to Haig, he was

“thus principal director of Britain’s newest and greatest corpo-
rate enterprise, comparable in size to the administration of the
largest city in the Kingdom (with the sole exception of London),
the governance of which was the more delicate since it was based
within a jealous and suspicious foreign state.”1 Though the BEF
certainly made mistakes in its logistical prosecution of the Great
War, levels of supply remained consistently high and the mili-
tary machine in general ran smoothly. Under the crushing bur-
den of the war the morale of the British soldiery also remained
stable, in large part because of close officer-man relations but
also to the care taken by high command.2 Thus, that the BEF
alone of the armies that entered the war in 1914 did not suffer
from a major mutiny is in part a testament to a forgotten, often
behind-the-scenes, aspect of the leadership of Douglas Haig.
The over-quick expansion of the BEF also posed other signif-
icant problems of command, for the rank and file of the Kitch-
ener armies pouring into France had until only recently been
civilians. Their training had been rather rudimentary, as Haig
had earlier feared, leaving many to wonder whether or not the
new soldiers would be able to stand the stress of battle or prose-
cute complex infantry maneuvers. That Haig realized the defi-
ciencies in the training of his men is obvious. In March 1916
Kitchener warned Haig to husband the strength of the BEF.
Haig responded:
I said that I had never had any intention of attacking with all avail-
able troops except in an emergency to save the French from disaster,
and Paris perhaps from capture. Meantime, I am strengthening the
long line which I have recently taken over, and training the troops.
I have not got an Army in France really, but a collection of divisions
untrained for the Field. The actual fighting Army will be evolved
from them.3

In addition the rapid expansion of the BEF meant that inex-

perienced commanders now found themselves leading much
larger formations. The men who now commanded the five
42 haig

armies that made up the BEF had been at best only divisional
commanders in 1914. Most of the corps commanders had then
only led brigades, and divisional commanders had started the
war commanding battalions.4 In essence, then, the leadership of
the BEF, with the exceptions of Haig and Rawlinson, had never
before led a unit larger than a division into battle. From the
highest to the lowest level the BEF was an untried, amateur force
that required “on the job” training. It was but the beginning of a
long learning process as the BEF transformed into a modern
military capable of prosecuting total war. At times, though, the
learning process would prove very difficult as some commanders
demonstrated that they were incapable of achieving success in
their new positions.
One of Haig’s first actions upon elevation to command of the
BEF was the creation of his own General Headquarters (GHQ)
staff. That his command was not entirely independent quickly
became apparent, for Haig wished to translate his staff wholesale
from the First Army to their new positions at GHQ. However,
Kitchener balked at the appointment of Major General R. H. K.
Butler as chief of staff, and instead the position went to Lieu-
tenant General Launcelot Kiggell, largely on the basis of senior-
ity. Major General J. H. Davidson took over at Operations while
Brigadier General John Charteris assumed control of Intelli-
gence. Though the staff got along well, they were rather weak
and singularly unsuited to stand up to their strong and demand-
ing chief. While historian Gerard De Groot goes too far in refer-
ring to the staff at GHQ as, a “sycophantic . . . circle of
simpering, awestruck admirers,”5 severe problems certainly ex-
isted in the functioning of Haig’s staff. Even John Terraine,
Haig’s leading supporter, contends that Kiggell, “never was, nor
aspired to be, more than a mouthpiece for Haig.”6 Charteris,
though reputed to be brilliant, was perhaps the most controver-
sial of all. Rarely did the Intelligence chief report news that Haig
would find distressing. Instead, Charteris constantly bombarded
Haig with over-optimistic reports of an impending collapse of
German morale. Based often on thin rumors, the reports had the
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 43

effect of building up Haig in times of difficulty, leading him to

believe that the constant application of more pressure would
cause decisive victory.
Haig now had to develop his own style and personality both
as the commander in chief of the BEF and as a leader of men. Se-
rious in his belief, but never overtly spiritual, Haig turned to re-
ligion as the immensity of his present task became clear to him.
Intrigued by the preaching of Reverend Dr. George Duncan,
Haig appointed him de facto chaplain of GHQ, and attended
service regularly. The spiritual messages were heartening, and
Haig became convinced that God helped to guide him through
the shoals and eddies of war. It was this religious surety of pur-
pose that enabled Haig to persevere through horrific battles such
at the Somme and Passchendaele. While some contend that
Haig’s religious belief only served to wrap his mistakes in a dan-
gerous mantle of infallibility, Duncan himself disagrees, stating:
Haig’s faith was essentially practical. There is not the slightest evi-
dence that he ever allowed it to pervert or overrule his military judg-
ment. What it did for him was to give him an unshakable
confidence in victory, a resolute will for victory, and a serenity
which remained unclouded in the darkest hour.7

Haig often falls victim to the charge of being a “Chateau

General,” never leaving GHQ to investigate the conditions of
the battlefront or to meet and congratulate the men who were
fighting so hard for Britain. Born of reminiscences in postwar
memoirs that were polemic in nature, the charges of Haig’s iso-
lation are in the main untrue. Though matters of command ob-
viously kept Haig quite busy, he always took time to ride out to
units stationed close by for inspections. As an example, in a two-
week period in April 1916, Haig visited battalions of the Sixth
Division, XIV Corps H.Q., Canadian and South African units,
an RFC unit, and a sniping school; he also inspected base
camps, hospital wards, recreation facilities, and a military
prison.8 Though Haig did not think it proper for the com-
mander in chief to inspect the trenches during battle, he cer-
44 haig

tainly was evident and active in his efforts to retain personal con-
tact with his burgeoning military force.
Finally, Haig had to adopt a command relationship with his
subordinate army commanders. Again the charge exists that deal-
ings between Haig and his army commanders were singularly
one-sided, with Tim Travers claiming that the “serious gaps in
communication” between Haig and his army commanders were
due in part to a fear among the commanders of questioning
Haig’s authority. There did, however, exist a weekly conference
between Haig and his army commanders, at which strategic and
tactical ideas were discussed. At first the meetings were certainly
rather one-sided affairs. However, as the war went on the meet-
ings became more open and productive. Haig also visited and li-
aised with individual army commanders, especially during the
planning period before important offensives, often exhibiting
startlingly varied approaches to command. Sometimes he would
take a direct part in the planning and prosecution of an offensive,
as in the Somme, and at other times he would remain rather dis-
tant and only offer advice, as in Third Ypres. Haig, though, did
not view the differing command styles as inconsistent. Simply
put, he sometimes believed the planning to be incorrect and
chose to intervene on the tactical level, and sometimes not.9
Even as his command structure and style slowly developed,
Haig turned to ideas of strategy and to the vexing question of
how best to achieve victory in the Great War. Haig’s guiding
principle remained that the war had to be won through the de-
feat of the main German field army on the western front. He was
joined in that conviction by Robertson, now Chief of the Impe-
rial General Staff. Though the two had major differences,
Robertson being more of a supporter of an attritional struggle
rather than a breakthrough attempt, the two men made com-
mon cause against their foes, becoming one of the most impor-
tant and influential military partnerships in British history.
Upon his assumption of office Robertson was quite dismayed at
the disorganized state of governmental relations with the mili-
tary, reporting to Haig in January that the politicians, “have no
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 45

idea how war must be conducted in order to be given a reason-

able chance of success, and they will not allow professionals a
free hand.”10 Most disturbing to Robertson was the fact that sev-
eral leading political figures again pressed for operations in the
east. Robertson had witnessed how the split between Kitchener
and French had lessened the voice of the military in such de-
bates, and was determined to make common cause with Haig.
Though not overawed by Haig, Robertson chose his battles with
the commander of the BEF carefully, often subsuming his own
desires to the greater military good. Thus, though their relation-
ship was far from perfect, Robertson and Haig worked together
to present united opinions on military policy to the govern-
ment.11 Initially their alliance was overwhelming and achieved
great success.
Haig also had to deal with the important question of his rela-
tions with his French allies, and soon received guidance in the
form of a letter of instruction from Kitchener. The letter stated:
The defeat of the enemy by the combined Allied Armies must al-
ways be regarded as the primary object for which the British troops
were originally sent to France, and to achieve that end, the closest
cooperation of French and British as a united Army must be the
governing policy; but I wish you distinctly to understand that your
command is an independent one, and that you will in no case come
under the orders of any Allied General further than the necessary
cooperation with our Allies above referred to.12

The document was thus quite mixed, urging Haig to cooper-

ate with the French but reminding him that his command re-
mained independent and going on to caution Haig against
risking defeat in favor of French policy. For his part Haig would
do his utmost to work in tandem with the French, though he re-
mained skeptical about their ability to prosecute a prolonged
war and assumed that more and more of the fighting would fall
to the BEF. He wrote regarding his conclusions to Kiggell:
In the past there has certainly existed on the part of the French a
feeling that we were not always willing to take our fair share. No
46 haig

doubt that feeling has existed on our side also. There must be a give
and take. The present moment (with the change in command) is
opportune for creating a good impression and paving the way for
smooth negotiations with the French, especially as important mat-
ters in regard to combined operations are pending.13
Thus Haig chose to work closely with the French, and though
relations were not always good, for the time being he chose to
subsume his own operational planning to their strategic design.
Though battles with the politicians and negotiations with the
French loomed, Haig and Robertson had made clear that the de-
cision would come on the western front. But the question re-
mained: What form was the ongoing war to take? Strategically
Haig returned to his Staff College roots, advocating a series of
“wearing out” attacks designed to draw in and destroy German
reserves. He argued that these attacks should take place simulta-
neously and continuously from France straight through to Rus-
sia so that the Germans would not be able to use their interior
lines of communication. Only after the Germans were on their
heels would the Allies shift toward decisive battle on the western
front. Thus Haig supported a series of “bite and hold” attacks
geared toward creating the opportunity for decisive action. Haig,
though, could not foretell the fact that both the German nation
and military would prove resilient, capable of withstanding the
rigors of total war. The opportunity for decisive battle, then,
would not come in months as Haig hoped, but only after years
of attrition.
Unable to pierce the veil of the future at the Chantilly Con-
ference in December 1915, Haig and Joffre agreed to carry out
their series of wearing-out offensives, to be followed by a major
French effort at decisive battle. As part of the attritional process
Joffre made it known that he favored an attack at the junction of
the French and British armies near the River Somme. Haig,
though, returned to the idea of operations along the Belgian
coast in cooperation with the Royal Navy. It was Haig’s opinion
that an assault in the area of the Somme would seize only worth-
less territory, while a successful attack in Flanders would be valu-
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 47

able in a myriad of ways. A minor success there would seize im-

portant high ground, easing the lives of the British defenders of
Ypres while also achieving the attritional goal. However, it was
also an area where a more substantial victory seemed to beckon.
Strategically Flanders represented a major German logistic bot-
tleneck, and Haig believed that seizure of the communications
hub of Roulers, some twenty-five miles distant, could even force
a German evacuation of the valuable Belgian ports of Ostende
and Zeebrugge—achieving one of the main strategic British
goals of the entire war. In addition the German seaborne flank
lay open to the possibility of an amphibious operation designed
to exploit any success.
After receiving Joffre’s reluctant assent, Haig hoped to launch
his assault in the spring. However, on February 21, Falkenhayen
preempted all Allied planning by launching a massive assault on
Verdun. Falkenhayen hoped by this attritional offensive to “bleed
the French army white” at Verdun, forcing an end to the war.
Lasting ten months and causing nearly one million casualties, the
Battle of Verdun is perhaps the signature battle of the Great War.
The German offensive very nearly achieved its goal, leaving the
French military and indeed the French nation battered and weak-
ened. At first Haig did not realize the scope of the assault, but
soon he began to turn his efforts to the aid of his stricken ally.
Though Haig, because of Joffre’s entreaties, was only a recent
convert to the idea of attacking on the Somme, he quickly be-
came fully committed to the offensive. Greatly worried that the
French were being pressed beyond the limits of their endurance
at Verdun, Haig determined that his effort on the Somme had to
be made with the maximum strength. Additionally Haig had
reason for renewed optimism regarding the outcome of the com-
ing assault, for the ongoing fighting at Verdun had also placed
great strains upon the German army, and thus served as the
“wearing down” battle dictated by Allied strategy. As a result
Haig hoped that his Somme offensive would become the deci-
sive battle, which would break the German lines and restore a
war of movement. Intelligence received from Charteris also
48 haig

buoyed Haig’s spirits. Though the German defenses were strong,

Charteris placed great faith in reports of sagging German morale
both on the battlefront and the homefront. Haig did temper his
expectations through a realization that the coming offensive
might only achieve an attritional aim, but he hoped that a sub-
stantial victory might injure German morale even further, possi-
bly resulting in peace as early as the coming winter.14
Haig also had reason for optimism in that the BEF now had
nearly attained the weight of infantry and artillery that he felt
was necessary to achieve a decisive success. In addition he hoped
that many of the command difficulties experienced at Neuve
Chapelle and Loos were a thing of the past, and accordingly
Haig turned over planning for the Somme to his most experi-
enced subordinate, Rawlinson, who now commanded the
Fourth Army. It must be remembered, however, that neither
Haig and Rawlinson, nor their subordinate corps and division
commanders, were properly prepared for what was to come.
Staff College had not looked past a BEF of six divisions, leaving
a poorly trained officer class to make ready for an attack of un-
precedented size.15
Rawlinson quickly discovered that the German defenses in
the area were quite formidable, consisting of two main trench
systems and incorporating several fortified villages including
Fricourt, Thiepval, and Beaumont Hamel. Rawlinson chose to
advocate a methodical, “bite and hold” offensive scheme. He
proposed that after a five-day bombardment the infantry ad-
vance on an attack frontage of 20,000 yards to seize only the
German frontline trench system. After a delay of three days the
attack would be renewed to seize the German second line of de-
fenses. Rawlinson realized that his advocacy of a methodical ad-
vance went against Haig’s thinking and he wrote in his diary: “I
daresay I shall have a tussle with him over the limited objective
for I hear he is inclined to favour the unlimited with the chance
of breaking the German line.”16
Indeed Rawlinson’s draft plan did not receive the support of
GHQ. Haig, favoring a shorter bombardment, instructed Rawl-
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 49

inson to amend his plan and to aim for greater goals, namely the
seizure of both German lines of defense in one operation fol-
lowed by a push eastward toward Combles. In addition Haig in-
structed Rawlinson to extend the front of the attack southward
to the junction with the French army, and to have the cavalry on
hand to exploit any favorable development. Haig realized that
aiming for distant objectives on a broad front entailed great risk
to the BEF, but argued that the time was right and, given the
French predicament at Verdun, the risk was worth taking.
Though not without misgivings, Rawlinson conformed to
Haig’s new design, and the goals for the Somme came to include
an overthrow of both the German first- and second-line trench
systems and an advance toward a newly discovered third line of
defenses. Rawlinson did, however, persevere regarding the na-
ture of the bombardment, which remained scheduled for five
days duration.
The planning for the opening of the offensive at the Somme
is perhaps the most controversial element in the entirety of
Haig’s tenure in command of the BEF, and the disaster that en-
sued still colors perceptions of his career. Strategically, in the
main, Haig was correct. A British assault was indeed required to
take pressure off the French at Verdun. As regards the goals for
the Somme, Haig was certainly over-optimistic, but that failing
can be understood. Germany had already taken severe losses that
seemed to justify optimism. Possessing what he believed to be
overwhelming strength and facing weakened German resistance,
Haig hoped to build on the experience of 1915. Thus Haig’s de-
sire to achieve a breakthrough can be seen as a justifiable, if
tragic, miscalculation based on evidence accumulated through
the near success of Neuve Chapelle and Loos.
Tactically the team of Haig and Rawlinson made a series of
errors, again based in part on an erroneous understanding of les-
sons from previous offensive actions. The infantry was rather
poorly trained and lacked weaponry to facilitate its own advance
at the Somme. Also, though the infantry did not universally ad-
vance to its doom in parade ground lines as is usually surmised,
50 haig

tactics were in the main poor and certainly not uniform. Rawl-
inson, with some seventeen infantry divisions at his disposal, did
not impose a standard upon his subordinates, and thus in some
cases the infantry advanced across no-man’s-land in rushes,
while in others the infantry received specific orders to advance
only at a walk.
As in 1915, though, the bulk of the offensive would fall to the
artillery, an awesome array of weaponry including 1,000 field
guns, 233 howitzers, and 180 counter battery guns. The absolute
numbers, though, are misleading, for the artillery was simply
called upon to do too much with too little, having to destroy en-
emy wire, silence enemy artillery, and crush the entire enemy de-
fensive network. The field guns dealt with enemy barbed wire
and often failed in their task because of faulty ordnance and in-
accurate fire. Though there had been advances in locating enemy
artillery, the counter battery guns failed to subdue the 598 field
guns and 246 howitzers that the Germans were able to bring into
action. Finally, the main task of the offensive, destroying the
German defenders themselves, fell to only 233 howitzers. Mak-
ing matters worse, the German defenses in the area were very
strong, including deep dugouts that were impervious to every-
thing but a direct hit from a heavy caliber shell. Even against
such defenses, a heavy weight of artillery fire, similar to that used
at Neuve Chapelle, would have made seizure of the German
frontline trench possible. Critically, though, Haig’s decision to
attack the German defenses in depth had the effect of diluting
the overall effectiveness of the bombardment. Thus the fault for
the impending disaster must fall to Haig, for it was as a conse-
quence of his decision that “the British command decided to
send its infantry against some of the strongest defenses on the
western front in the wake of a preliminary bombardment ap-
proximately half as intense as that employed against the much
sketchier German defenses at Neuve Chapelle.”17
That Haig still had much to learn about the nature of the
Great War is obvious, yet on the eve of the offensive he remained
confident, noting in his diary:
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 51

With God’s help; I feel hopeful. The men are in splendid spirits.
Several have said that they have never before been so instructed and
informed of the nature of the operation before them. The wire has
never been so well cut, nor the Artillery preparation so thorough. I
have seen personally all the Corps Commanders and one and all are
full of confidence.18
Though it is outside the scope of this study to provide a de-
tailed account of the Somme, the struggle forms a critical
episode in Haig’s conduct of the war, his growth as a com-
mander, and his historical legacy. After a prolonged bombard-
ment lasting seven days, during which a total of 1.5 million shells
were fired at the German lines, on July 1, 1916, British troops
made ready to go “over the top.” Confidence was high, for it
seemed that few Germans could have survived the tumult of the
barrage. However, one million of the shells fired had been shrap-
nel designed only to cut the German wire, leaving only 500,000
shells of heavier caliber to do the bulk of the real work. Given
the inaccuracy of the bombardment and recurring problems
with shell fuses, the total was simply inadequate. Thus many
Germans, though dazed and frightened, were quite alive and
made ready to man their machine guns and to call down their
defensive artillery fire.
After the explosion of a series of mines beneath the German
lines, at 7:30 A.M. the infantry attack began. In the far north, a
diversionary offensive launched by elements of the Third Army
around Gommecourt met with very uneven success and in the
end achieved little, struck by enfilade fire from unattacked Ger-
man defenses. On the left flank of the main assault the VIII
Corps also achieved minimal gain. Indicative of the unequal ap-
plication of modern infantry tactics, though, some units, in-
cluding the Thirty-sixth Ulster Divison, advanced into
no-man’s-land before the barrage had lifted and achieved the
German front lines. However, the Thirty-sixth still lost heavily
and was driven out of most of its gains before nightfall. Other
units, though, did advance in slow-moving lines over great dis-
tances, and are perhaps best represented by the futile attack of
52 haig

the First Newfoundland Regiment. Finding their way forward to

the front lines blocked by men and equipment, the Newfound-
landers clambered out of the trenches and fell victim to German
fire before even reaching their starting point and lost some 91
percent of their attacking force with only a handful of men
reaching the German frontline trenches.19 Thus, though levels of
success differed, in the main the story of the first day of the
Somme north of the Bapaume Road is one of unremitting fail-
ure—thousands were lost, cut down in no-man’s-land, with only
a sliver of captured German trenches near Thiepval to show for
their gallant effort.
South of the Bapaume Road, though, the situation was rather
different, with the XV Corps and the XIII Corps achieving
nearly all of their initial goals including the overthrow of the
German first-line trenches in the area and the seizure of the de-
fended villages of Mametz, Montauban, and Fricourt.20 The rea-
sons for success in the area are many, including better
observation and adjustment of artillery fire, weaker German de-
fenses, and one of the first British uses of the “creeping barrage,”
in which the infantry followed slowly advancing artillery fire
very closely, hoping to reach the German trenches before their
occupants could emerge. The French, cooperating on the south-
ern flank of the British attack and aided by their considerable ex-
perience at Verdun, also achieved the vast majority of their initial
objectives.
As the fortunes of the battle ebbed and flowed the communi-
cations realities of the Great War served only to worsen an al-
ready bad situation. At their respective headquarters Rawlinson
and Haig slowly learned of the progress of the massive battle, but
were in many ways powerless to alter the course of events. Rawl-
inson knew little of the failure in the north, or of the isolated
successes in the area, until it was too late to send aid to units
holding out in the German lines. More regrettably Rawlinson
also knew relatively little of the success in the south. The Ger-
mans in the area were beaten, and local reserves were few.
Through decisive use of reinforcements British forces could have
54 haig

at least taken the important areas around Trones and Mametz

woods, which would be the scene of much bitter fighting in fol-
lowing months.21 However, Rawlinson had not placed his reserve
formations in a position to take advantage of the success, and as
in earlier battles, an opportunity for greater advance was lost. In
the words of historian Gary Sheffield:
We know that by failing to capitalize on the success in the south the
British commanders let an opportunity for a substantial advance go
begging. Rawlinson never believed in Haig’s plan for a break-
through, and this probably influenced his reaction to events on XIII
Corps’ front. To lack any form of immediately deployable opera-
tional reserve was a mistake.22

At the cost of 57,000 casualties, the first day of the Battle of

the Somme had fallen far short of Haig’s considerable goals. The
scale of the setback only slowly dawned upon Haig, who two
days later still believed that the casualties numbered only
40,000. Even when he learned of the true nature of the losses in-
curred Haig never thought of calling off the offensive. After all,
the strategic imperative that had led to the Somme still held
firm, for the French still desperately required a continuation of
the British offensive to lessen pressure on Verdun. Thus the Bat-
tle of the Somme would continue, but the severity of the losses,
a national calamity for Britain, jolted Haig’s optimistic belief in
a breakthrough offensive.
Though follow-up operations continued Haig realized that
the BEF needed a period of recuperation before launching an-
other major offensive. Tension regarding the failure to advance
ran rather high, and led to a heated exchange that helped to sort
out the command relationship between the Western Allies. In a
meeting on July 3, Joffre pressed Haig to continue the attack as
soon as possible and argued that the BEF should strike in the
northern sector of the battlefront toward Thiepval. Haig, how-
ever, advocated building on the successes of the battle through a
further advance in the south toward Longueval with continuing
French aid. Haig’s diary records what happened next:
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 55

At this Joffre exploded in a fit of rage. ‘He could not approve of it.’

He ‘ordered me to attack Thiepval and Pozieres.’ If I attacked
Longueval, I would be beaten, etc., etc. I waited calmly until he had
finished. His breast heaved and his face flushed! . . . When Joffre got
out of breath, I quietly explained what my position is relatively to
him as the ‘Generalissimo.’ I am solely responsible to the British Gov-
ernment for the action of the British Army; and I had approved the
plan.23

Thus Haig chose to delay a resumption of major offensive ac-

tion, and stipulated that the renewed offensive would take place
at the junction of the British and French armies south of the Ba-
paume Road. Haig’s goals this time were far more modest, hop-
ing only to seize the old German second line of trenches on a
rather narrow frontage. Haig did stipulate, though, that Rawlin-
son’s forces had to reach a proper jumping-off point for the com-
ing assault. Mistakenly, Rawlinson turned the task over to his
subordinates, resulting in some forty-six uncoordinated attacks
against various German strong points in the area and some
25,000 additional casualties. Again the losses represent a failure
for the command team of Haig and Rawlinson, for more sizable
assaults with adequate artillery preparation could have achieved
the same results at far less cost.
Rawlinson’s plan for the coming major offensive demon-
strated that both he and Haig had learned much from their ear-
lier failures. The Fourth Army commander suggested that his
forces advance into no-man’s-land at night to facilitate a quick
capture of the German frontline trench system. Haig initially
disagreed with this portion of the plan, contending that tactical
movement by night was as yet beyond the men of Kitchener’s
Army. Rawlinson and his subordinate commanders, though,
pressed their case, and Haig relented. Thus the planning for the
July 14 offensive represented a give-and-take, rather than the dic-
tatorial approach usually ascribed to Haig, indicating that the
commander in chief was also learning his role in modern com-
bat. Sometimes, as before the first day on the Somme, he inter-
vened in the planning of his subordinates; on other occasions he
56 haig

stood aside. In a very important sense, then, Haig’s command

style remained uneven and unpredictable, reflecting his confi-
dence or lack thereof in the abilities of his subordinates.
That Rawlinson and Haig had embarked on a true “learning
curve” is best demonstrated by the artillery plan for the coming
battle. Though they had not developed a detailed formula for ar-
tillery success, and were not thus true scientific practitioners of
modern war, Rawlinson and Haig did much to rectify the criti-
cal artillery deficiencies that had doomed the first day of the
Somme offensive. For the coming attack, the Fourth Army
could rely on support from 1,000 artillery pieces, of which 311
were heavy howitzers. Though there were 500 fewer artillery
pieces than on the first day of the Somme, they were called upon
to do much less. The attack frontage of July 14 was only 6,000
yards as opposed to over 20,000 yards on the first day of the bat-
tle. The supporting German trenches in the area of the assault
amounted to only 12,000 additional yards, where there had been
300,000 additional yards of trenches on the first day of the bat-
tle. In essence, then, the artillery fire accompanying the attack of
July 14 would be five times more intense than that on July 1,
leading to a far greater level of destruction in the German defen-
sive system.24 Thus in the space of just two weeks Haig and
Rawlinson had made significant alterations to their style of at-
tack. Though communication would remain a nagging problem,
both artillery and infantry tactics were much improved, as the
results of the battle would indicate.
The British gained local surprise on July 14, by employing
only a whirlwind bombardment followed five minutes later, at
3:25 A.M., by an infantry assault launched from prearranged po-
sitions in no-man’s-land near the German lines. Everywhere the
attackers met with great success, finding only smashed defensive
works and dazed German soldiers, for the massive artillery bar-
rage had done its job. Along the entire front the III, XV, and XII
Corps reached their final objectives and overthrew what had
been the German second line of defense, seizing Bazentin le Pe-
tit and Trones Wood. Once again a greater victory seemed to
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 57

beckon, and Rawlinson attempted to utilize a cavalry advance to

seize High Wood and the next belt of German defenses known
as the Switch Line. Though the cavalry achieved initial gains, in-
dicating a continued utility in warfare, it failed to achieve a sus-
tained success against the German defenders of High Wood.25
Though surprised, the Germans were using the realities of the
Great War to their advantage by rushing reinforcements to the
scene more quickly than the British could learn of and attempt
to exploit any fleeting success. Nevertheless Rawlinson and Haig
were rightly pleased and heartened by the victory. The BEF, in-
experienced at all levels, had proven that it could defeat the tal-
ented Germans in battle, through the proper use of artillery
support in an advanced all-arms battle.
The massive assaults of July had an immediate effect on Ger-
man strategic thinking. Under Falkenhayen the Germans ad-
hered to the idea of launching counterattacks to seize any lost
ground. The German commander in the area of the Somme,
General Fritz von Below, adhered to the defensive scheme, de-
claring that “the enemy should have to carve his way over heaps
of corpses.” To prosecute such an active defense, the Germans
had to rely on lavish use of manpower and sent a total of forty-
two extra divisions to the Somme area in July and August.
Though in general the German defenders suffered fewer casual-
ties than did their British and French attackers, the Germans lost
their defensive advantage through launching some 330 counter-
attacks during the Battle of the Somme. Certainly Haig can be
criticized for many of his decisions during the battle, but the
vaunted Germans seemingly learned even more slowly, throwing
away thousands of lives to recapture patches of shattered
ground. Quickly the strain of battle began to show, and Falken-
hayen decided on July 11 to suspend major offensive operations
at Verdun. Though the struggle there would continue in the
form of French counterattacks, the Battle of the Somme had
achieved one of its prime strategic aims—pressure on the French
army at Verdun had been relieved.
Though the crisis had eased, the French were very desirous
58 haig

that the British attack continue lest the Germans once again
seize the initiative. Haig also believed that only continuous pres-
sure would eventually force the Germans into a position in
which decisive battle would become possible. As an anxious na-
tion began to realize the very difficult attritional nature of the
Somme, Haig found himself having to defend the continuation
of the offensive to the British government. Haig’s response to the
governmental inquiry is quite revealing. Haig contended that
continued attrition would quickly use up the remaining German
military reserves, and that the
maintenance of a steady offensive pressure will result eventually in
his complete overthrow. Principle on which we should act. Main-
tain our offensive. Our losses in July’s fighting totaled about 120,000
more than they would have been had we not attacked. They cannot
be regarded as sufficient to justify any anxiety as to our ability to
continue the offensive. It is my intention:
(a) To maintain a steady pressure on Somme Battle.
(b) To push my attack strongly whenever and wherever the state
of my preparations and the general situation make success
sufficiently probable to justify me in doing so, but not other
wise.
(c) To secure against counter-attack each advantage gained and
prepare thoroughly for each fresh advance.
Proceeding this, I expect to be able to maintain the offensive well
into the Autumn.26
Receiving continued governmental support, for the next two
months, from July 15 to September 14 (sometimes dubbed the pe-
riod of the forgotten battles) Rawlinson’s Fourth Army and
Gough’s Reserve Army engaged in a continued series of small, of-
ten uncoordinated attacks to seize German defensive works in the
areas near High Wood, Delville Wood, and Guillemont. The pur-
pose of the continued struggle was to maintain pressure on the
Germans through massive artillery attacks while seizing important
defensive positions prior to the next main assault scheduled for
September. During this period, the Fourth Army alone mounted
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 59

some ninety operations, only four of which were launched across

the entire front. In all during this period of “line straightening,”
the Fourth Army suffered 82,000 casualties while advancing only
1,000 yards on a five-mile front. Thus, while capturing less than
the area seized in the more infamous first day of the Somme, the
Fourth Army suffered 40 percent more casualties.27
Though the fighting during July and August was indecisive at
best, Haig’s characteristic stubborn optimism regarding the op-
portunity for decisive battle returned, fueled in part by Char-
teris’s continued reports of sagging German morale on the
battlefield and on the homefront. For his part Joffre, also subject
to fits of great optimism, strongly advocated launching another
major offensive on the scale of July 1, at the nexus of the French
and British armies. Though there was considerable allied dis-
agreement about the timing and goals of the coming campaign,
eventually the effort was set for mid-September as a major ad-
vance in the neighborhood of Flers-Courcelette. Again much of
the planning fell to Rawlinson, who devised a scheme for a lim-
ited advance. Haig, however, hoped for something much greater
and remarked concerning Rawlinson’s plan:
In my opinion he is not making enough of the situation with the
deterioration and all-round loss of morale of the enemy troops. I
think we should make an attack as strong and as violent as possible,
and plan to go as far as possible.28

As with the attack plan for July 1, Haig hoped to break three
lines of German defenses in one continuous operation, to be fol-
lowed by exploitation by five cavalry divisions husbanded be-
hind the front lines. Haig’s alteration of Rawlinson’s plan had
the effect of diluting the all-important covering artillery barrage,
which now included creeping barrages as a matter of course, to a
level of one-half of the intensity of the barrage accompanying
the July 14 attack. Thus, though the BEF was becoming much
better at firing accurate and effective barrages due to a period of
“on-the-job training,” Haig still struggled to find the optimum
balance of artillery fire to accompany any major advance. Haig’s
60 haig

confidence in success, though, was not based on levels of artillery

fire, but on a stubborn and continuing belief that the Germans
were nearing the end of their capability to resist. However, in the
case of the coming attack Haig had an additional reason for op-
timism: the first battlefield use of the tank.
In many ways Winston Churchill was responsible for the early
development of the tank, having recognized the need for an ar-
mored “land ship” to deal with enemy strong points. However,
after Churchill’s fall from grace following the Dardanelles adven-
ture, the development of the tank fell into danger. Churchill, rel-
egated to the western front, in late 1915 sent a variant of his
planning to Haig, who expressed an immediate interest in the
tank, thus ensuring its future as a weapons system. Though tanks
were slow, mechanically unreliable, and only lightly armed, Haig
realized the importance of the new weapon and placed an imme-
diate order for 150 to accompany the initial Somme offensive.29
Haig’s acceptance of the tank, when many other military
leaders failed to appreciate its value, serves as the best proof that
the British commander in chief was not the technophobe of
popular portrayal. Indeed Haig’s intervention at critical junc-
tures was also instrumental in the development of the Royal Fly-
ing Corps, the Lewis light machine gun, the Mills grenade, and
light and heavy trench mortars—all of which would play a ma-
jor role in shifting the balance of warfare back toward the at-
tacker. Perhaps Haig’s advocacy of technology and his tireless
persistence in acquiring the new weapons in abundance played a
greater role in the coming successes of the BEF than his own tac-
tical and strategic growth.
Tank production, though, proved slow, and the new weapon
was not ready for the initial battles on the Somme. Haig, im-
pressed by the prototypes he had seen in action, received word
from Colonel E. D. Swinton, principally responsible for the later
stages of the development of the tank, that at least seventy-five of
the vehicles would be ready for the attack slated for mid-
September. Swinton had earlier warned Haig not to use the
tanks in “driblets,” but to keep their existence secret until they
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 61

could be used in large numbers in a great offensive.30 Given his

perceptions regarding the weakened nature of the German army
on the Somme, Haig judged that seventy-five tanks would be
sufficient to meet Swinton’s requirements.
However, only forty-nine tanks reached France in time for the
offensive, with only thirty-two reaching their eventual starting
points for the assault. Very soon thereafter nine tanks broke down,
and five became ditched, leaving only eighteen effectively in ac-
tion.31 Thus, when British and French forces moved forward to
the attack on September 15, tanks were in effect used only in
“driblets.” Making matters worse, tank tactics were quite obvi-
ously in their infancy. Fearful that the tanks could not negotiate
broken ground, Rawlinson arranged for gaps in the artillery bar-
rage to allow the tanks forward. As a result British infantry, which
outpaced even the few tanks on hand, often faced un-shelled Ger-
man defenses, with predictably disastrous results, and few gains
were made on the British right and left flanks. However, in the
center of the British line, under the cover of a punishing barrage
and accompanied by twelve tanks, British troops made notable
advances, seizing the village of Flers and breaking the German sec-
ond line of defenses. Though great gains had been taken in the
center of the British line, again at high cost, a breakthrough did
not beckon, and the cavalry remained in its billets. Even so the
fighting continued in the area for two weeks as Haig and Rawlin-
son sought to press toward the third line of German trenches.
The success of the few tanks at Flers has brought Haig a tor-
rent of criticism. David Lloyd George outlined the case against
Haig in his War Memoirs:
But the decision to launch the first handful of these machines . . . has
always appeared to me to have been a foolish blunder. . . . We made
the same error as the Germans committed in April, 1915, when by
their initial use of poison gas on a small sector alone, they gave away
the secret of a new and deadly form of attack, which, had it been used
for the first time on a grand scale, might have produced results of a
decisive character. . . . So the great secret was sold for the battered ruin
of a little hamlet on the Somme, which was not worth capturing.32
62 haig

More recent historical accounts, though, vindicate Haig for

his early use of the tank. He had tried to amass as many of the
machines as possible and hoped that their addition to the battle
would result in a favorable decision. The tank was not yet a war-
winning weapon, and even its massed use would not have
achieved total victory on the Somme, as evidenced by later, fuller
uses of armor at Cambrai and Amiens. The tank did, though, re-
quire a battlefield test to assure its worth and continued devel-
opment. Even so, many within the British military considered
the tank a failure; thus Haig’s continued support of the weapons
system remained critical to the further development of armor
and armored theory. Haig followed the mixed debut of the tank
with an order for one thousand more and encouraged the
growth of a new branch of the army to deal with the new
weapons system. Haig was thus far ahead of his time, hoping to
add larger and more independent tank formations to his attack
program for the coming year.33
Fighting on the Somme lingered until mid-November, mak-
ing more use of bite and hold techniques. That Haig chose to
continue the fighting for so long after hope for a major victory
had dimmed is central to the criticism of his command. As the
weather worsened, the Fourth Army and Reserve Army fought
a series of bloody battles along the Ancre River and near the Le
Transloy Ridge, culminating in the seizure of Beaumont
Hamel—one of the initial goals for the first day of the offen-
sive—on November 14, after over four months of fighting. Cer-
tainly Haig’s decision to continue the struggle was due in part
to his stubborn and optimistic nature. He remained true to the
idea of a wearing-out struggle that had to be continuous in na-
ture. He also firmly believed, based in part on Falkenhayen’s
failure at First Ypres, that the time for a decision might be near
and that relaxing pressure on the German lines would be a crit-
ical mistake. Finally, Haig chose to continue the battle at the
behest of the French, who, as the senior alliance partner, con-
tinued to demand attritional offensive action on the western
front.
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 63

The Somme, quite possibly the most important battle ever in

British military history, had come to an end. Though the rate of
losses dropped considerably after the first day of the offensive,
the eventual toll of the battle in death and suffering remained
staggeringly high. British forces suffered 420,000 casualties, and
the French lost 205,000 while together they succeeded in mak-
ing only a dent in the German lines some thirty miles long and
seven miles deep at its deepest point. The legendary futility of
the offensive is best represented by the fact that the BEF had not
succeeded in gaining all of the objectives set for the very first day
of the assault. German losses in the Battle of the Somme remain
quite controversial, but number between 500,000 and 600,000
casualties. The question remains, though, was the battle worth
the effort and extreme sacrifice?
It is popularly accepted today that the Somme was a national
cataclysm for Britain, representing the death of a generation of
the nation’s best and brightest at the behest of an uncaring and
bungling high command. The case is encapsulated in the words
of military correspondent Lovat Fraser:
Our High Command had not advanced beyond the tactics of the
Stone Age. They had not conceived any form of warfare except the
blind fighting of masses of docile men against formidable positions
month after month.34

Recently, though, historians have come to question the typical

assumptions concerning the Somme. This revisionist school of
thought, while not discounting Haig’s many mistakes, has come
to see the Somme as a costly yet pivotal victory for Britain and
an indispensable step in the ongoing learning curve of the BEF.
During late August the Germans had replaced Falkenhayen
with the command team of General Paul von Hindenburg and
his First Quartermaster General Erich Ludendorff. The two men
realized that the twin strains of Verdun and the Somme had
placed an unacceptable burden on the German military system.
Thus Ludendorff chose to recast German defensive tactics in the
west in a fundamental way. First, the Germans abandoned the
64 haig

idea of fighting for every inch of ground, instead choosing to

rely on a more elastic system of defense. Second, the Germans
made plans to withdraw from much of the salient in central
France to a prepared position that became known as the Hin-
denburg Line. In essence Ludendorff questioned the German
ability to withstand another round of attrition and in his own
words backed Haig’s ongoing assumptions when he warned the
German leadership to:
bear in mind that the enemy’s great superiority in men and matériel
would be even more painfully felt in 1917 than in 1916. They had to
face the danger that ‘Somme fighting’ would soon break out at var-
ious points on our fronts, and that even our troops would not be
able to withstand such attacks indefinitely, especially if the enemy
gave us no time to rest and for the accumulation of matériel.35

As a result of the fighting on the Somme, then, the Germans

would not only retreat to the Hindenburg Line, but would also
be willing to gamble on any chance for victory in the war. One
such gamble involved the use of unrestricted submarine warfare,
designed to destroy Britain, but destined to fail and cause Amer-
ican entry into the conflict. Thus the attritional victory of the
Somme should be seen as an essential step along the path to
eventual overall victory in 1918.
What remains is to assess the nature of Haig’s leadership at
the Somme. Certainly the commander in chief expected far too
much from several of his major attacks, hoping to achieve a
breakthrough victory. Haig also demonstrated a variable com-
mand style, sometimes intervening and meddling, and some-
times standing aloof even as mistakes were made. In addition,
Haig allowed the battle to continue for far too long once the
hope for a major advance had passed. Finally, and most dis-
turbingly perhaps, Haig and Rawlinson both often failed to real-
ize the lessons of artillery use during the offensive. Tragically, in
many ways these mistakes can be ascribed to an untried com-
mander in chief, leading a new army into the uncharted waters
of modern war. In the words of Gary Sheffield:
 t h e d e at h o f a g e n e r at i o n ? 65

In retrospect, it was unrealistic to expect the amateur and inexperi-

enced BEF of 1916 to do much more than this, although clearly it
could have performed more effectively at the tactical and opera-
tional levels.36
Thus the Somme was not the great victory that ended the
war. Neither was it, though, the fruitless catastrophe of recent
historical memory. Haig had bungled the offensive badly at
times, but his command gaffes are understandable given an ob-
jective view of the context of his mistakes. Buoyed by a confi-
dence that the Somme had been a success, and spurred by his
religious faith and recurring optimism, Haig now prepared for
another year of warfare. As usual he was convinced that during
the coming year, if the Allies remained on the offensive, the Ger-
man army would reach the end of its tether. That Haig had
taken some of the wrong lessons from the battles of 1915 was ev-
ident. What lessons would he now take from the Somme to aid
in the prosecution of subsequent offensives?
 Chapter 5

Battles in the Mud: The Year of

Passchendaele

I n the wake of the decidedly mixed results of the

Battle of the Somme, during November Haig and Joffre met in
Chantilly and agreed on the need to keep continuous pressure
on the German lines in France and Flanders, and that the first
offensive of the coming year would be, in the main, a British
affair. Haig, though his hope for an immediate decisive battle
had dimmed, decided to use the opportunity to launch his
long-desired attack in Flanders. At the same time events at sea
served to focus the attention of a reluctant government on
Haig’s planning.
With an overstretched merchant fleet, and having lost control
of much of the Belgian coastline, Britain’s wartime supply line
was vulnerable to attack. Making matters much worse, the Ger-
mans were threatening to launch their burgeoning U-boat fleet
on a potentially devastating unrestricted campaign against
British trade. Facing the threat of German attack, Arthur Bal-
four, the First Lord of the Admiralty, responded in November:
66
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 67

Of all the problems which the Admiralty have to consider, no doubt

the most formidable and most embarrassing is that raised by sub-
marine attack on merchant vessels. No conclusive answer has yet
been discovered to this mode of warfare; perhaps no conclusive an-
swer will ever be found.1

Reports from the Admiralty to the Asquith government were

quite gloomy, some even predicting imminent defeat if the Ger-
mans chose to strike with their entire submarine fleet. With no
naval means as yet by which to destroy submarines, on Novem-
ber 21 Asquith decided to advocate a ground assault aimed at
seizing the German submarine bases at Ostende and Zeebrugge
on the Belgian coast. Informing Robertson and Haig that, “the
submarine constitutes by far the most dangerous menace to the
Allies at the present,” Asquith went on to instruct:
There is no operation of war to which the War Committee would
attach greater importance than the successful occupation, or at least
the deprivation to the enemy, of Ostende and especially Zeebrugge.2

Haig took the wishes of his government to Joffre, who in De-

cember agreed that a British offensive in Flanders would form
the first stage in the Allied offensive scheme for the coming
year.
During December, though, discontented with Asquith’s inde-
cisive wartime leadership, a coalition of Liberal, Conservative,
and Labour members took control of the House of Commons
and elevated David Lloyd George to the position of prime min-
ister, posing great problems for Haig. The two men were often at
odds; Lloyd George did not trust Haig in the least, while the
commander in chief thought the new Prime Minister to be
“shifty and unreliable.”3 Most importantly, though, Lloyd
George had always strongly favored shifting Britain’s military
might away from the western front to other, possibly more prof-
itable, theaters of war. As such, Lloyd George’s continuing devo-
tion to the “easterner” school of thought ran contrary to Haig’s
unwavering belief that the might of the German army had to be
destroyed in France and Flanders.
68 haig

The strategic situation became even more muddled as Joffre

fell from military power in France, eventually replaced by Gen-
eral Robert Nivelle, one of the heroes of Verdun. While an ad-
vocate of continued action on the western front, Nivelle favored
his own plan for a massive, decisive assault on the German lines
in central France over Haig’s proposed Flanders scheme. Nivelle,
unlike Haig a glib conversationalist and quite comfortable in the
company of politicians, moved quickly to press his scheme on
the reluctant British Prime Minister. Proposing a massive attack
on a narrow frontage, preceded by the heaviest artillery bom-
bardment in the history of warfare, Nivelle promised a decisive
victory and pledged to call a halt to his offensive within two days
if it showed signs of failure. To Lloyd George the plan was irre-
sistible, for it promised a victory in which the French would pay
the greatest cost.
Lloyd George had fallen under the spell of Nivelle’s charm,
and in writing to his mistress Frances Stevenson made clear his
preference for Nivelle over Haig, stating: “Nivelle has proved
himself to be a Man at Verdun; and when you get a Man against
one who has not proved himself, why, you back the Man!”4 Not
knowing the extent of his fall into disfavor, Haig made ready to
undertake the main British portion of Nivelle’s plan, a diver-
sionary assault near Arras, even as Lloyd George decided that the
time was right to demonstrate his full authority over the military
in matters of strategy and tactics.
Following discussions with the French and with members of
the British War Cabinet, Lloyd George decided to use the occa-
sion of an upcoming conference at Calais regarding transporta-
tion difficulties to make his stand. Oblivious to the secret
machinations, Haig and Robertson attended the February con-
ference, which opened with little fanfare. However, in meetings
on the twenty-sixth Lloyd George dropped his bombshell by un-
veiling plans to restructure the system of command on the west-
ern front. Sir Maurice Hankey, the War Cabinet Secretary,
recalled that the plan:
fairly took my breath away, as it practically demanded the placing of
the British army under Nivelle; the appointment of a British ‘Chief
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 69

of Staff ’ to Nivelle, who had powers practically eliminating Haig as

his Chief of the General Staff, the scheme reducing Haig to a
cypher.5

Thus Lloyd George sought effectively to replace Haig, whom he

did not consider a “clever man,” with Nivelle.
Shocked and doubtless hurt by Lloyd George’s actions, Haig
and Robertson retreated to their lodgings to discuss their op-
tions. Haig recorded their decisions in his diary:
We agreed that we would rather be tried by court-martial than be-
tray the Army by agreeing to its being placed under the French.
Robertson agreed that we must resign rather than be partners in this
transaction. And so we went to bed, thoroughly disgusted with our
Government and the politicians.6

The next day tempers flared, threatening a breakdown of the

conference and the resignation of much of the command struc-
ture of the BEF. Hankey, though, worked hard to defuse the very
tense situation and suggested that Haig be placed under Nivelle’s
direct command only for the duration of the coming offensive.
Reluctantly all agreed to the compromise, and disaster was
averted. Though Lloyd George had failed to supplant or remove
Haig, the results of the conference had strained the already poor
communications and faith between the Prime Minister and the
commander in chief. Thus as the war neared a point of great cri-
sis, relations between the government and the military in Britain
were clouded by mistrust and animosity.
Now subordinate to Nivelle’s planning, Haig made ready for
the BEF’s part in the offensive, calling for a British attack at Arras,
followed by a massive French assault on the Chemin des Dames.
Nivelle hoped that a French breakthrough would dislocate the
German defensive system in central France and restore a war of
movement. Once again, though, the Germans preempted Allied
planning, this time by evacuating the salient they held between
Arras and Soissons and retreating to prepared defensive positions
known as the Hindenburg Line. The move shortened the German
defensive network, allowed for the accumulation of much-needed
reserves, and thoroughly disrupted Nivelle’s planning, convincing
70 haig

Haig that the French plan stood little chance of success. Again he
turned to the idea of an attack further north, in part due to the
worsening of the submarine war. However, Nivelle remained firm
in his resolve, and thus the BEF made ready for a battle that
lacked its full support and was not of its choosing.
The planning for the Battle of Arras, falling mainly to the
First Army under General Sir Henry Horne, and the Third
Army under General Sir Edmund Allenby, demonstrated that
the BEF had learned much in its trials at the Somme. Especially
for the assault against the powerful defenses of the Vimy Ridge,
great care had been taken in the all-important artillery plan of
battle. The exact length of trench to be assailed had been calcu-
lated, and the appropriate artillery assigned to the task at hand.
The attacking infantry, also making use of more advanced tac-
tics, were to be preceded not only by a creeping barrage, but also
by a further barrage of machine gun bullets and light howitzer
shells. In all the moving barrage was 500 yards in depth, and pro-
vided the advancing infantry with a great deal of protection.
Also counter battery work had become more productive due to
scientific advances in gunnery. Observation and communication
had also improved. Finally, though, the application of sheer
numbers told the true story. The attacking forces had gathered
together some 2,827 guns, of which 863 were of heavy caliber.
Thus the artillery barrage that accompanied the Arras attack was
three times as strong as that employed on the first day of the
Somme, in addition to being much more accurate and lethal.7
The infantry moved forward on April 9, to mixed results.
While making only minimal gains on the right flank, in the cen-
ter the Third Army tore a gap in the German lines and advanced
over three miles, the greatest single forward movement since the
onset of trench warfare. The opportunity again, though, proved
fleeting. The Germans quickly rushed reinforcements to the
scene and strengthened their failing defenses. Conversely, it was
very difficult for the BEF to move artillery forward to replicate
the detailed preparations that had enabled them to achieve their
tactical success.
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 71

While the BEF had achieved measured success at Arras, Niv-

elle could make no such claim for his long-awaited offensive
launched between Soissons and Reims, as French goals had
proven wildly optimistic. Instead of halting the attack as prom-
ised, though, Nivelle pressed onward, seizing part of the Chemin
des Dames Ridge in over two weeks of fighting at a cost of
180,000 casualties. The failure to achieve victory brought the
shaky morale of the French army to a new low and resulted in a
debilitating series of mutinies. The growing crisis led to Nivelle’s
replacement in command by General Philippe Petain and threw
the remainder of Allied planning for the year into a state of dis-
array.
Convinced of the need to attack the German lines and hop-
ing to forestall any offensive against the weakened French, Haig
returned to the idea of an attack in Flanders toward the Belgian
coast. Haig realized, though, that gaining the support of Lloyd
George for such an offensive would be quite difficult. However,
the Germans had unleashed their submarine force with devastat-
ing results, in April alone sinking 847,000 tons of shipping.
Such losses were unsustainable and forced the First Sea Lord,
Admiral Sir John Jellicoe, to advise the government that the war
would soon be lost unless an answer could be found quickly,8
giving Haig’s planning a needed boost.
After a conference with Lloyd George and French leaders in
Paris, Haig received preliminary support for maintaining the of-
fensive on the western front. With the new authority Haig went
on to plan an offensive in Flanders that was both varied and
flawed. In a conference with his army commanders on May 7
Haig announced that his offensive would take place in two
phases. First a subsidiary attack scheduled for June would seize
the dominating high ground flanking the main offensive at
Messines. Next a force from Ypres would attack, with the goal
“to regain the Belgian coast up to the Dutch frontier, or, failing
this, to dominate the Belgian ports now in the hands of the en-
emy.”9 The conclusion that Haig still dared hope for a decisive
breakthrough offensive in the face of all available experience is
72 haig

unavoidable. However, discussions with subordinates would

serve to temper Haig’s optimism.
To lead his most cherished offensive, Haig chose General Sir
Hubert Gough, who knew little regarding the terrain of the
Ypres salient. A much more obvious choice was General Sir Her-
bert Plumer, a methodical commander who was very familiar
with the area of the offensive. Haig, though, chose Gough in the
vain hope that he would be better suited to seize any fleeting op-
portunities for the reinstitution of mobile warfare. In the end
Haig’s choice of Gough would prove to be one of the worst mis-
takes of his tenure in command of the BEF.
The experience of Arras, which had dragged on for six weeks
at an eventual cost of 150,000 casualties, forced Haig to expect
less from his coming offensive at Ypres. In late May Kiggell,
Haig’s chief of staff, wrote to Gough concerning the new Ger-
man defense in depth system. He informed Gough that the Ger-
mans relied on a weakly held front line of strong points that
could give each other mutual support. The first waves of British
attackers would penetrate these lines only to face massive Ger-
man counterattacks in the German second line of defenses
known as the battle zone. Thus Kiggell counseled Gough to aim
only for limited advances,10 leading Haig to his final plan for the
Flanders offensive, which would take the form of a methodical
series of bite and hold attacks. Disturbingly, though, Haig con-
tinued to hope that the sum total of attacks would lead to a col-
lapse in German morale.
Haig entrusted the preliminary stage of his Flanders offensive
to the Second Army of Plumer. Laboring on a plan for an attack
there since January, Plumer responded with a masterpiece frame-
work for a limited offensive aimed at the seizure of the Messines-
Wytschaete Ridge. As with the earlier assault at Arras, Plumer
carefully calculated the amount of artillery fire needed to over-
come the German defenses in the area. Again Haig complicated
matters by suggesting more comprehensive objectives, but
Plumer in the main stood firm against the wishes of his chief. As
a final part of his planning Plumer oversaw the construction of
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 73

several tunnels dug beneath the German lines, containing over

one million pounds of explosives.
At 3:10 A.M. on June 7, the explosion of nineteen mines punc-
tuated the devastating British bombardment. Only six hours
later Plumer’s infantry had seized the ridge, having met little re-
sistance and suffered few losses. The fighting at Messines contin-
ued for a week as the Second Army consolidated after having
reached all of its limited goals. Messines, following in the wake
of Arras, indicated that the BEF was becoming much more pro-
ficient at warfare. In both cases, using lavish artillery fire, the
British had been able to achieve an effective break into the
German defensive system. Exploitation of the gains, though,
had remained impossible. The victories had given Haig great
confidence in the rising abilities of the BEF, but it was a confi-
dence tempered by realization of the need to aim for limited
goals.
Even as the Battle of Messines raged, though, Lloyd George
stepped back from his support of Haig’s overall planning. The
Prime Minister, seeking to streamline wartime government, cre-
ated the War Policy Committee, which included himself, Gen-
eral Jan Christian Smuts, Lord Milner, and Lord Curzon. The
committee, which began its deliberations on June 11, took a fresh
look at Britain’s strategic options for 1917, and Lloyd George,
noting Haig’s unwavering optimism, let it be known that he fa-
vored operations in Italy over a continuation of Haig’s plan for
an offensive in Flanders. Robertson immediately took note of
the danger that the committee represented to operations on the
western front and wrote to Haig expressing his desire to present
a united military front to the politicians. Haig responded to
Robertson’s entreaties by crafting a memorandum that outlined
his revised hopes for a continuation of the Flanders campaign.
The memorandum presented the offensive as a series of bite and
hold operations aimed at achieving both tactical goals and attri-
tion. Haig, though, continued to believe that German morale
was nearing the breaking point and revealed his continued hope
for more decisive results by stating:
74 haig

It is my considered opinion, based not on mere optimism, but on a

thorough study of the situation, guided by experience which I may
claim to be considerable, that if our resources are concentrated in
France to the fullest possible extent the British Armies are capable
and can be relied on to effect great results this summer—results
which will make final victory more assured and which may even
bring it within reach this year.11

Robertson did not agree with Haig’s assessment of the situa-

tion regarding the state of German morale and pressed Haig to
keep his optimism in check. To ensure the future of the Flanders
plan the two men had to be united in their support of the oper-
ation when dealing with the committee. Thus Robertson
warned Haig:
What I do wish to impress on you is this—Don’t argue that you can
finish the war this year, or that the German is already beaten. Argue
that your plan is the best plan—as it is—that no other would be safe
let alone decisive, and then leave them to reject your advice and
mine. They dare not do that.12

On June 19, Haig journeyed to London and, together with

Robertson, placed the details of his Flanders plan before the
War Policy Committee. The two men worked hard to show that
short, attritional advances would greatly ease the situation of
the BEF at Ypres. In addition they contended that if great re-
sults did accrue, the Belgian coast would be lost to the Ger-
mans. Lloyd George vehemently protested that the BEF lacked
the ability to achieve such a victory and that the necessary
French aid was not likely to be forthcoming. At the end of the
meeting indecision reigned, and the committee was evenly split
on the matter. On the next day, though, Jellicoe appeared be-
fore the committee, again stressing that the war against the sub-
marine was being lost and throwing his weight behind Haig’s
proposals.13
On June 25 Lloyd George and the War Policy Committee,
barely a month before the onset of the offensive, reluctantly gave
their assent to Haig’s planning. The scheme had very nearly been
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 75

ruined by Haig’s continued optimism, but had been rescued by

the strength of the alliance between Haig and Robertson. Only
the unanimity of military opinion, including that of Jellicoe,
made the Third Battle of Ypres possible. Lloyd George, who in
the end had the ultimate authority over military actions,
planned to keep a close eye on the progress of the offensive and
on the commander in chief.
In the planning for his second major offensive on the western
front, Haig demonstrated a style of command quite different
from that seen on the Somme. Instead of altering the planning
for Third Ypres, Haig stood more aloof and was satisfied only to
give advice and general strategic oversight to the planning of
Gough. Doubtless Haig believed in Gough’s ability, as the entire
BEF had become more professional and needed less oversight. In
addition, as historian Tim Travers has demonstrated, Haig pre-
ferred a “hands off ” style of command, leaving tactical issues to
the commander on the scene.14 This rather loose command style,
preferred in modern militaries, relies upon high and uniform
levels of training and tactical ability on the battlefield. Allowing
Plumer such initiative would have worked well, but Haig had
chosen the wrong commander. Gough would prove intransigent
and unwilling to follow Haig’s admittedly over-complicated
directions and goals.
As Gough began his planning he continued to receive warn-
ings from Haig and Kiggell regarding the nature of the German
defenses and of the need for only short advances. In addition
Haig warned Gough to concentrate his efforts against the Ob-
servatory Ridge and Gheluvelt Plateau on the right flank of the
offensive. German defenses in the area were considerable; the
ground dominated the battlefield and if unconquered would en-
able the Germans to enfilade British forces further to the north.15
Instead of heeding the advice, Gough produced a plan that
spread his forces rather evenly across the battlefield and called
for his men to advance as far as possible. In many ways it was the
first day of the Somme in reverse. Haig and GHQ advised lim-
ited attacks and the concentration of artillery fire. The com-
76 haig

mander on the scene, though, wanted much more and thus

chose to disperse the all-important artillery cover.
Certainly the BEF aimed at goals that were beyond its means
at the opening of the Third Battle of Ypres. The plan to rush
through to distant objectives as at the Somme, though, was part
of Gough’s tactical scheme. Haig retained hope that a strategic
victory would be forthcoming, but planned to gain that victory
through sustained limited advances. It was thus a complicated
and mixed message that Haig sent to his subordinate. The result
was a breakdown in command at the highest levels of the BEF.
Haig and Gough were at cross-purposes, a situation fraught with
danger and one that Haig should have taken in hand but did
not. After the war, in a letter to Sir James Edmonds, the British
official historian of the war, Gough made clear the command
difficulties preceding Third Ypres:
Put briefly, the main matter of difference was whether there should
be a limited and defined objective or an undefined one. G.H.Q.
favoured the former, I the latter. My principal reason was that I al-
ways had in mind the examples of many operations which had
achieved much less than they might have done, owing to excessive
caution. . . . In all these operations victorious troops were halted at
a pre-arranged line at the moment when the enemy was completely
disorganized . . . this was the argument which I used, I claim with
complete justification, with Douglas Haig.16
On July 16, the preliminary bombardment began for the
Third Battle of Ypres, often mistakenly referred to as Passchen-
daele. Though Gough had assembled 752 heavy and 1,422 field
guns, the bombardment varied in effectiveness due in part to the
effort to advance to depth and partly to bad weather.17 Making
matters worse, Gough did not concentrate adequate levels of ar-
tillery fire against the heavily defended ridge system on the
British right flank. Thus Gough’s planning had not been as
meticulous as that at Arras and Messines, which led to widely
varied results on the battlefield.
On the left flank French forces achieved their goals with rela-
tive ease, while the British XIV Corps captured the Pilkem
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 77

Ridge and advanced to a depth of 3,000 yards. In the center the

XIX Corps achieved the greatest advance, pushing beyond the
German third line of defense. On the all-important right flank,
however, the three divisions assaulting the Gheluvelt Plateau
met with little success. The German system of elastic defense al-
lowed for a measure of British forward movement, but the gains,
especially in the center, were still notable. The situation wors-
ened, though, as enfilade fire from the plateau, combined with
German counterattacks, drove the XIX Corps from its forward
positions. At the end of the day British gains totaled eighteen
square miles of territory at the cost of 27,000 casualties. The re-
sults, then, were much greater than those on the first day of the
Somme but failed to bear out the promise evidenced by Arras
and Messines and certainly failed to achieve any of Gough’s
greater goals.
Though Haig expressed in his diary that he was pleased with
the efforts of his troops, he was not at all happy with the way
that Gough’s attack had unfolded. In the ensuing days Haig
again appealed to Gough to place more emphasis on the Ghelu-
velt Plateau, and a memorandum from Kiggell bluntly warned
Gough not to attempt advances beyond 2,000 yards. Kiggell
again informed Gough regarding the nature of the German de-
fensive system and advised limited advances that did not outrun
artillery support before facing the inevitable German counterat-
tacks.18
Gough did not bother to respond to Kiggell’s critique of his
offensive scheme, and instead continued with his plans for deep
penetration of the German lines. On August 10, after a delay
caused by deteriorating weather conditions, which transformed
much of the low-lying and shell-torn land of Flanders into a bog,
II Corps launched an attack on the Gheluvelt Plateau. Gough,
though, had failed to concentrate his artillery on the German
positions, and the attack achieved little. The failure should have
caused Gough to postpone his next attempt at the German cen-
ter, but he did not relent. As a result the Fifth Army assaulted all
along its front on August 16 with results very similar to that of
78 haig

the first day of the offensive. On the left considerable gains were
made, but in the center and on the right the advance came to
grief amid a maze of German concrete pillboxes and through
German counterattacks.
Haig remained unhappy with Gough’s handling of the offen-
sive. Since May, Haig and his staff had been warning Gough re-
garding the need for limited advance and concentrated military
effort on the Gheluvelt Plateau, only to be ignored. As a result
Haig took what was, for him, an extraordinary step. By August
26, he transferred the capture of Gheluvelt Plateau to Plumer’s
Second Army, and made that the focus of his continued offen-
sive. Gough remained involved in the fighting, in command of
forces on the British left. Haig, however, had finally made good
his critical mistake and placed the command of the battle in the
hands of Plumer, who would adhere to a step-by-step approach
of limited offensives. The first phase of the Third Battle of Ypres
had come to an end.
Unlike Gough, who selected geographic goals and tried to
make his firepower fit the plan, Plumer calculated the power of
the infantry and artillery at his disposal and then established the
limit of his advance. In his first assault, the Battle of the Menin
Road, the Second and Fifth Armies attacked on a narrow
frontage, used more advanced infantry tactics, and hoped to
penetrate the German lines only to a depth of 1,500 yards. The
weight of shell available to cover the advance was three times
that fired during Gough’s initial offensive. Finally, the plan
called for British forces to halt their advance well within the
range of their artillery to await and defeat the inevitable German
counterattacks.19
On September 20, Australia/New Zealand Army Corps
(ANZAC) and British troops went over the top, and within a
few hours had achieved nearly all of their objectives. Surprised
by the shallow nature of the British advance, the Germans held
their counterattack forces too far back, and in the evening failed
in their attempts to retake lost territory. At a cost of just over
twenty thousand casualties the BEF had achieved nearly all of its
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 79

admittedly limited goals and had seized much of the strategic

high ground around Ypres. The first effort at a step-by-step ad-
vance had been a resounding, if costly, success. With his opti-
mism buoyed, Haig agreed with Plumer that the next step in the
plan should take place without delay.
At dawn on September 26, again following careful artillery
preparation, BEF forces advanced into the Battle of Polygon
Wood. Along a short attack frontage the Second and Fifth Armies
again achieved most of their goals and succeeded in destroying
German counterattacks at a cost of just over fifteen thousand ca-
sualties. Though the price was high and the gains limited, Haig
became convinced that the step-by-step approach was wearing
down the Germans and portended greater results. Revealingly,
Haig advised Plumer and Gough not to underestimate the de-
cline in German morale. Haig then referred back to one of his
formative moments in the war and pointed out that Falkenhayen
had failed to press his advantage at First Ypres. Advising against a
similar mistake, Haig recommended having reserve forces on
hand, including cavalry, to exploit any opportunity.20
On October 4, Plumer launched his third attack, the Battle of
Broodseinde. Though the fighting was more difficult, in part be-
cause of the limited time available for artillery preparation, the
Second and Fifth Armies again seized most of their final objec-
tives. Worried regarding the ongoing fighting, the Germans had
chosen to place a higher number of troops in the front lines to
contest the forward zone with more vigor. The move was a mis-
take, allowing a greater number of Germans to fall victim to the
still effective artillery barrage. Thus Plumer’s force, aided by
tanks, advanced over 1,000 yards and seized five thousand rather
demoralized German prisoners of war. The positive results, in
tandem with Charteris’s ever-optimistic reports regarding the
imminent failure of German morale, once again convinced Haig
that decisive battle was possible.
Haig advised Plumer to continue the hammer blows on the
German lines without delay, hoping that finally the limited ad-
vances would lead to the ultimate breaking of the German lines
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 81

and an advance even to the Belgian coast where an amphibious

landing would turn the German flank. However, at the same
time the weather in Flanders, which had been fine during
Plumer’s victories, broke, and the rain began to fall. The land-
scape turned to a sea of mud and desolation, making military
maneuvers nearly impossible. As a result both Plumer and
Gough informed Haig that they would welcome a closing of the
campaign. It was an important moment in Haig’s career. If he
had chosen to halt the offensive, Third Ypres would be remem-
bered as a costly victory in which the BEF had overcome initial
problems in command to win a series of important victories
over mighty German defenses. Instead Haig chose to fight on as
the weather worsened. As at the Somme the continuation of the
offensive was in the main a mistake, brought on at least in part
by a misplaced optimism that continued pressure would force
German morale to collapse. As a result Third Ypres would be-
come known as Passchendaele in reference to the last, tortured
phase of the campaign. The continued progress indicated by the
middle portion of the battle would largely be ignored, leaving
Passchendaele to be remembered for futility, horror, and bot-
tomless mud.
On October 9, Plumer’s force made little headway in the Bat-
tle of Poelcappelle. The worsening weather made artillery prepa-
ration difficult, and the rushed nature of the attack allowed little
time for readjustment. In an effort to keep nearly continuous
pressure on the Germans, Haig had seemingly forgotten the
need for meticulous preparation and planning that was the only
way forward in the Great War. Only two days later the attack
was renewed, aiming at an advance of 2,000 yards and the
seizure of Passchendaele Village. With so little time to prepare,
forced to slog through gripping mud and facing imposing Ger-
man defensive works, the First Battle of Passchendaele also
achieved but little, at the cost of a further thirteen thousand ca-
sualties. Allowing the attack to proceed at all had been a mistake,
and pressing for two attacks in such quick succession in such
conditions had been a critical error. Though recent historical in-
82 haig

terpretations suggest that the state of the German army after

months of sacrifice in Flanders actually warranted optimism,21
Haig’s continuation of the battle would forever scar his reputa-
tion. Obviously the commander in chief was far from infallible
and though he had made significant advances, he still had much
to learn about the nature of the Great War.
The Third Battle of Ypres ended anticlimactically. Haig re-
lented in his desire for great gains, and the Canadian Corps
launched a series of very limited attacks aimed at the seizure of
Passchendaele and part of the surrounding ridgeline. Struggling
through the nightmare landscape, the Canadians forged ahead
and on November 10 captured Passchendaele, heralding an end
to the campaign. On the surface the results of Third Ypres
closely mirror those of the Somme; at a cost of some 250,000 ca-
sualties the BEF had failed even to reach all of the goals that
Gough had set for the first day of his campaign. However, on
closer inspection Third Ypres can be considered a costly victory
and an important step on the learning curve.
The offensive had done great service by not allowing the Ger-
mans to launch an attack on the beleaguered French in 1917.
German casualties were also high, contributing to the attrition
process, the ultimate German inability to achieve victory in their
offensives of 1918 and the final German collapse by the end of
that year.22 In a tactical sense during 1917 the BEF had shown it-
self to be a much improved military force. At Arras, Messines,
and during the central stage of Third Ypres the BEF had used
tactics far in advance of those seen at the Somme and proved
adept at defeating the most powerful German defenses in bite
and hold offensives.
What remains is to gauge Haig’s performance during Third
Ypres. Without doubt Haig had chosen the wrong commander
for the first phase of the offensive. Though Haig often advised
Gough regarding the need for a step-by-step advance, his hand
had not been firm enough and had allowed control of the battle
to slip away, in part due to Haig’s own enduring optimism. Too
slowly, perhaps, Haig corrected his mistake by shifting to
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 83

Plumer and the tactics that had proven so successful at Messines.

The ensuing limited victories, though, caused Haig to seek
greater results, thus eschewing the very methodical tactics that
had made Plumer’s victories possible.
Thus the record of Haig’s command at Third Ypres is decid-
edly mixed, and included valuable steps forward blended with
significant errors in judgment. Haig had made mistakes in his
prosecution of the Somme, but his errors in that battle could in
part be forgiven because it was his first major battle as com-
mander of the BEF. After Passchendaele, however, Haig would
receive no such absolution. The enduring perception of failure
and futility would forever tarnish Haig’s career. In 1935 an article
in the News Chronicle said in relation to Haig’s reputation:
Why has not Haig been recognized as one of England’s great gener-
als? Why, as a national figure, did he count for less than Lord
Roberts, whose wars were picnics by comparison? The answer may
be given in one word—Passchendaele.23

There remained, however, a considerable postscript to the

fighting and political maneuvering of 1917—a battle that indi-
cated the way forward in warfare, but that also illustrated the
continuing imperfections in the evolving command of Douglas
Haig. That battle was Cambrai. Since its introduction at the
Somme, the tank had played subsidiary roles in later battles in-
cluding Arras and Third Ypres. However, tanks had remained
unreliable, few in number and of only marginal use in the great
trench battles of the year. As improved models of the tank ap-
peared, though, Brigadier General Hugh Elles, the Tank Corps
commandant, and his senior staff officer Colonel J. F. C.
Fuller, began to press for an opportunity to use tanks in large
numbers over more suitable terrain. As early as September, the
idea had caught Haig’s attention, as had the separate planning
by the Third Army, under the command of General Sir Julian
Byng, for an offensive action toward Cambrai.24 German de-
fenses in the area were weak and the Third Army plan of attack
was both novel and impressive. Haig and Kiggell were in-
84 haig

trigued, but thought that operations at Ypres would deny Byng

needed reinforcements. By mid-October, though, the two ideas
for attack had melded into one, and Haig came to the conclu-
sion that Byng would have enough men, tanks, and matériel to
achieve at least a limited victory; he thus gave the plan his
blessing.
At dawn on November 20, some three hundred tanks led five
infantry divisions of the Third Army’s III and IV Corps forward
into the attack. Though armor was quite important to the over-
all plan, Haig rightly believed the tank to be only an ancillary
weapon at this point. Indeed, the most innovative part of the
Battle of Cambrai involved the artillery, augmented by the ac-
tions of the Royal Flying Corps acting in a ground attack role. In
previous battles artillery barrages had often been long in dura-
tion and had always required extensive preregistration fire. How-
ever, at Cambrai the Third Army, for the first time, relied on
“predicted fire,” using better maps and calibration of artillery
rather than preregistration to achieve accuracy. Thus the attack
caught the two defending German divisions totally by surprise,
a far cry from the opening day on the Somme just over a year
earlier.
The attack quickly rumbled through the first and second de-
fensive networks of the vaunted Hindenburg Line and was only
checked outside Flesquières where tank/infantry cooperation
was inadequate. Even so the results of the offensive were un-
precedented, with troops advancing over four miles in places,
something that had not been achieved in four months of fight-
ing at Third Ypres. The results, though, were far from perfect.
On the left flank little progress had been made against German
defenders on the dominating high ground near Bourlon. Also,
several tanks were lost to both enemy fire and to malfunctions.
Lacking a method of communication, the remaining tanks
quickly lost their operational cohesion. Finally, Haig once again
had a mixed plan going into the battle. While a tactical advance
toward Cambrai with a corresponding shock to the German de-
fensive network would reap an attritional advantage, Haig also
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 85

had the cavalry on hand in an attempt to exploit any greater vic-

tory. The cavalry did move forward, but after achieving initial
gains failed to pierce the final lines of German resistance. With
no other available reserves, weakened as the BEF was from Third
Ypres, there remained little Haig could do to further his initial
victory.25
Though the preconditions for success were now gone and the
units engaged in battle under-strength and tired, Haig pressed
his offensive for a further seven days, mainly in an effort to cap-
ture the Bourlon Ridge to make the pronounced salient gained
by the attack less vulnerable.26 By November 27, the offensive
ground to a halt and the tanks began to leave the battlefield to
regroup. In Britain there had been great celebration of the vic-
tory, with the ringing of church bells for the first time since the
onset of the war. However, the celebration was premature as the
Germans quickly gathered reinforcements for a massive counter-
attack.
Only the IV Corps in the northern part of the salient noticed
the German preparations and made ready, while forces in the
other portion of the salient remained in an offensive posture.
The failure must fall in part to Byng, but resides mainly with
Haig, who later took full responsibility for the resulting setback.
On November 30, the Germans struck, also employing new of-
fensive techniques involving the use of highly trained storm
troopers. The surprise attack pushed the British from nearly all
of their previous gains and only faltered after tanks from the Sec-
ond Tank Brigade returned to the battle. Haig’s great victory had
turned, at best, into a costly draw.
The setback at Cambrai, which had started with such opti-
mism, very nearly brought Haig’s military career to an abrupt
end. Lloyd George had approved offensive action by the BEF on
the western front in 1917 only with great reluctance. As Third
Ypres ground slowly on, with little in the way of territorial gain,
the Prime Minister became less and less patient with Haig,
Robertson, and the command structure of the BEF. As the
prospects for victory in Flanders dwindled, Lloyd George and the
86 haig

War Cabinet brought considerable criticism to bear on Robert-

son and Haig, focusing on the over-optimistic projections that
had preceded the offensive. Lloyd George continued to cast
about for other military options, such as offensive action in Pales-
tine, but in the end limited himself to sniping at Haig from the
sidelines. In the end Lloyd George could have ended the Flanders
offensive that he would later pillory in his War Memoirs, but he
did not. In the words of Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson:
There is a terrible omission here. None of Lloyd George or Smuts or
Curzon or Milner or Bonar Law seemed to be noticing that the
Flanders campaign was his responsibility. It would continue not an-
other day if they denied it authorization. . . . The most the nation’s
civilian rulers might do regarding it [Third Ypres] was wring their
hands and look about for additional military advisors to offer a ‘sec-
ond opinion.’ . . . So as the rain fell in Flanders and thousands of
Haig’s soldiers prepared to struggle through mud to their doom, the
Prime Minister who was proclaiming the futility of this undertaking
failed to raise a finger to stop it.27
In the wake of the German counterattack at Cambrai,
though, the military situation suddenly changed and Lloyd
George, who had never trusted Haig’s optimism, now had to
face the prospect of Haig’s pessimism. With the end of the war
in Russia, Haig contended that the Germans would quickly shift
their forces westward and seize the initiative. As a result Haig
and Robertson pressed the government to send all available
troops to the western front to redress a predicted increasing im-
balance in manpower. The shift in strategic fortunes galvanized
Lloyd George to action, and a letter from Robertson served to
warn Haig of the coming storm:
His [Lloyd George’s] great argument is that you have for long said
that the Germans are well on the down-grade in morale and num-
bers and that you advised attacking them though some 30 Divisions
should come from Russia; and yet only a few Divisions have come,
and you are hard put to it to hold your own! He claims that five Di-
visions [that the government had directed sent] to Italy and absence
of necessary drafts are not sufficient to account for the Cambrai
 b at t l e s i n t h e m u d 87

events, but that the latter are due to Charteris’s error of judgment as
to the numbers and efficiency of German troops.28
Thus as 1917 drew to a close Haig faced the prospect of a Ger-
man offensive on the western front, while fighting for his life as
commander in chief of the BEF.
 Chapter 6

1918: The Year of Victory

F ield marshal sir dougl as haig looked

forward to the coming of the new year with some trepidation.
The collapse of Russia enabled the Germans to shift consider-
able forces to the western front, seizing the advantage over the
Allies who were still attempting to recover from their offensive
exertions of 1917. As a result, Haig, for the first time in the war
counseled a shift to a defensive posture in France and Flanders.
Though Haig’s expectations regarding the nature of the com-
ing German offensive varied, he remained confident that the
Allies would hold firm as had the Germans at the Somme and
Passchendaele.
Lloyd George, though, was quite skeptical regarding Haig’s
intentions, and became convinced of the immediate need to
lessen the power of Haig and Robertson over strategy. In essence
the Prime Minister moved to take control of the war away from
the “westerners,” with a goal of shifting British power away from
France and Flanders to other, hopefully more profitable, theaters
of war. Realizing that Haig and Robertson remained powerful,
and that any overt move to oust them would endanger his gov-
88
 1918 89

ernment, Lloyd George chose rather indirect methods of achiev-

ing his goals.
The first move that Lloyd George made to reduce the power
of Robertson and Haig during October 1917 was toward the con-
struction of an Allied general staff, which initially took the form
of an advisory body known as the Supreme War Council. By this
means the Prime Minister hoped to place his ally General Sir
Henry Wilson on the Allied general staff and into an advisory
position roughly comparable to that of Robertson. In the words
of David Woodward:
With his man Wilson as a member of the Allied general staff, he
[Lloyd George] hoped to have two sets of military opinion from
which to select. Never again would he occupy the impossible posi-
tion he had found himself in during the Passchendaele debate. Then
it had been his amateur strategy against the monolithic military
bloc, with Haig, Robertson, and Jellicoe all speaking with one
voice.1
Continuing his efforts to lessen Haig’s authority, Lloyd
George moved against the more vulnerable members of Haig’s
inner circle of advisors. On December 7 Lord Derby, the Secre-
tary of State for War, wrote to Haig stating that the War Cabinet
had lost faith in Charteris as intelligence chief. Citing Charteris’s
consistently optimistic reports concerning German morale the
memorandum informed Haig that, “the War Cabinet should
have the fullest confidence in the opinions and judgments of of-
ficers of your Staff, and this they will not have so long as Char-
teris remains D.M.I.”2 Haig attempted to salvage Charteris’s
reputation by informing Derby:
The responsibility for the judgment formed on the evidence ob-
tained [from Charteris] and for the reviews put forward to the War
Cabinet rest on me and not on him, and if the War Cabinet are not
satisfied with the views put forward by me it is I, and not Charteris
who should answer for these views.”3
Haig eventually relented in his defense of Charteris, but the
assault on Haig’s staff did not abate. The next major figure to
90 haig

fall from grace was Kiggell, Haig’s chief of staff, who was suf-
fering from what was termed “nervous exhaustion.” Though
Haig admitted that he was “very sad to make this decision, es-
pecially when I reflect over all I and the whole Army owe to
Kiggell,” Haig did not object to his replacement.4 In all, before
the purge of Haig’s staff was complete he had lost his director
of intelligence, his chief of staff, his deputy chief of staff, his
quartermaster general, his engineer-in-chief and his director-
general of medical services. General Sir Herbert Lawrence
moved into the position of chief of staff while Brigadier Gen-
eral E. W. Cox became intelligence chief. Haig did not struggle
to the end in defense of his staff in part because he realized his
political weakness, but also because he realized that the
changes were needed to retain the faith of the War Cabinet in
the actions of the British military. In total the changes to
Haig’s staff were needed and even John Terraine, Haig’s
staunchest defender, admits that the command shakeup actu-
ally strengthened GHQ and made Haig’s command structure
more secure and effective.
Even as controversy threatened British political and military
unity, the continuing issue of manpower came to the forefront to
cloud counsel even further. Dealing with depleted divisions and
facing imminent German attack, the British military requested a
force of 600,000 new men to keep British armies overseas up to
their recommended establishments. However, the British gov-
ernment only allocated some 100,000 men to the task, placing
the armed forces behind both shipping and agriculture in im-
portance. Though the demands of the military were, in the end,
unreasonable and impossible to meet were Britain to remain
economically viable, Lloyd George seized upon the issue as yet
another method of control over the military. The Prime Minister
was playing a dangerous game, hoping to curb Haig’s ability to
prosecute offensive warfare by denying the military needed man-
power—thus altering the nature of the conflict. In December
1917, Lloyd George had made his position clear in a communi-
cation to Lord Esher, “Now he [Haig] wrote of fresh offensives,
 1918 91

and asked for men. He would get neither. He had eaten his cake,
in spite of warnings. Petain had economized his.”5
The twin controversies of manpower and control over British
strategy joined at the January 30 meeting of the Supreme War
Council, and focused even more attention on the issue of mak-
ing the best use of available forces through the creation of an Al-
lied general reserve. Haig, though he contended that he had no
reserves for the creation of such a force, was greatly worried
about the potential command structure of the Allied general re-
serve. He and Robertson suggested that the force be subject to
the chiefs of staff of the British and French war offices, but Lloyd
George had other ideas. The Prime Minister suggested that the
Allied general reserve instead fall under the control of the mili-
tary representatives to the Supreme War Council, Generals Fer-
dinand Foch and Wilson, placing the latter in a position to
challenge Robertson as military adviser to the British govern-
ment. As expected, Robertson decided to resist such a scheme at
all costs. Haig, though, was more concerned with the alteration
in the nature of the command system, and did not want to cede
either his authority over his troops or his reserve forces to Allied
control.6
Lloyd George returned home from the Supreme War Council
having won a considerable victory. The Allies had chosen to
stand on the defensive in the west and the military high com-
mand had been outmaneuvered over the issue of a general re-
serve. Though many of the details of the scheme remained to be
decided, the Prime Minister had reason for optimism. However,
Robertson continued to withhold his support and precipitated a
controversy that nearly destroyed the government of David
Lloyd George. Both Robertson and Lord Derby threatened to
resign if the changes were implemented, and pressed Haig for
support of their position. As Haig made his way to the center of
the political fray, Lloyd George attempted a number of expedi-
ents to mollify Robertson and Derby, including sending Robert-
son to the Supreme War Council and moving Wilson to Chief of
the Imperial General Staff (CIGS). In each scenario, though,
92 haig

Robertson found that his power would be split with Wilson and
thus remained adamant in his continued opposition.
On February 10, Haig arrived in London and learned of
Lloyd George’s desire to shift Robertson and Wilson. He re-
ceived assurances that Robertson would be “free and unfettered”
in the advice he would give, but would report to the government
through Wilson. Though Haig doubtlessly realized that such an
arrangement would lessen the power of his ally and friend,
Robertson, and raise the power of Wilson, whom he distrusted,
Haig decided that such an arrangement, though not perfect, was
acceptable. Shocked by the reaction, Roberston pressed Haig for
his support. Haig, however, responded, “this was no time for
anyone to question where his services were to be given. It was his
duty to go to . . . [the Supreme War Council] or anywhere else
the Government wished it.”7 Haig had made the difficult, yet
correct, decision to stand in support of governmental control of
the war rather than fight in favor of his ally in matters of strat-
egy, and after a further week of bitter controversy Robertson fell
from power. Wilson took over as CIGS while Rawlinson took
the position as the British representative at Versailles. One of the
great personal alliances in British military history had come to
an end.
After the bout of political infighting it remained to imple-
ment the new scheme of military and civilian control on the
western front, and certain realities conspired to cause the ruina-
tion of the power of the Supreme War Council. In London
Lloyd George and Wilson had achieved their aim of removing
Robertson and seizing an added measure of influence over
events. As a result their support for the machinery at Versailles
and the issue of a general reserve lessened. For his part, Haig,
though resigned to working under the flawed system, still did
not favor placing British soldiers under a foreign commander
and also argued that he could not spare forces for the formation
of the general reserve. Haig found a staunch ally for his position
in Petain, who also did not want to surrender control of his re-
serve forces. Thus with the Prime Minister satiated and unwill-
 1918 93

ing to force another conflict with the military, the issue of the
general reserve collapsed under the weight of the ongoing man-
power crisis.
Predicting a British manpower shortage of 100,000 by June
and facing an estimated total of 190 German divisions on the
western front, Haig argued that he required all available units in
the BEF to hold the line. Haig recorded on March 10:
The manpower situation is most unsatisfactory . . . with heavy fighting
in prospect, and very few men coming in, the prospects are bad. We
are told that we can only expect 18,000 drafts in April! We are all
right under normal conditions for men for the next three months,
but I fear for the autumn! And still more do I fear for the situation af-
ter the enemy has started the attack.8

In total agreement, both Petain and Haig chose to abide by a

personal pledge to send their own reserves to the other’s aid in
time of dire need. In the face of united military opinion Lloyd
George chose not to press the issue, and the idea of raising a gen-
eral reserve was shelved until the rising numbers of American
troops once again made the idea feasible. Though he was not
overly concerned with the failure to implement an effective sys-
tem at Versailles, Wilson did lament the lack of a general reserve
and proved prescient by remarking that Haig’s actions had
quashed the general reserve and that “he would have to live on
Petain’s charity [in case of an attack on the British lines], and he
would find that very cold charity.”9
While political turmoil swirled in London and Paris, Haig
also had to make ready to deal with the strategic and tactical re-
alities of facing the imminent German offensive. Haig remained
quite confident in the defensive prowess of the BEF, but stark
numbers serve to demonstrate the difficulty he would soon
face—with some fifty-nine divisions (forty-seven British, ten
Dominion, and two Portuguese) the BEF had to defend 126
miles of the western front while facing eighty-one German divi-
sions, with a further twenty-five divisions held in central reserve.
Haig correctly judged that the main weight of the German of-
94 haig

fensive would be directed against the BEF, and feared that the at-
tack would fall in the north. In Flanders British and Allied forces
enjoyed little in the way of strategic depth, and any substantial
retreat would place them in danger of being cut off and de-
stroyed. Haig also realized, though, that the German attack
might fall at the juncture of the French and British armies fur-
ther south. However, he rightly believed that the forces in that
area (Gough’s Fifth Army) could, in need, withdraw and rely on
reserves promised by Petain before placing the communications
hub of Amiens in danger. Thus Haig distributed his available
forces accordingly from north to south: the Second Army with
fourteen divisions defended twenty-three miles of front, the First
Army with sixteen divisions defended thirty-three miles of front,
the Third Army with sixteen divisions defended twenty-eight
miles of front, while the Fifth Army with fourteen divisions de-
fended forty-two miles of front.10 Thus, though the defensive
situation was far from perfect, and would bring much criticism
down on Haig after the opening of the German offensive, his de-
fensive dispositions were made on sound strategic principles.
After years of practicing offensive warfare, the BEF now had
to ready itself for a defensive battle, and based on the consider-
able experience of assailing the German lines, Haig chose to ad-
vocate an elastic system of defense. At a conference of his army
commanders Haig warned:
Depth in defensive organization is of the first importance. . . . The
economy of forces in the front line system is most important in or-
der that as many men as possible may be available in reserve. The
front line should generally be held as an outpost line covering the
main line of resistance a few hundred yards in the rear.11

As a result, work on trench systems and the conversion to de-

fense in depth proceeded apace, but made only slow progress, in
part because of a critical lack of manpower for labor battalions.
The situation was especially bad in the Fifth Army area, which
had only recently been taken over from the French and was in a
state of defensive disrepair.
 1918 95

Though Haig remained firm in his conviction that Flanders

represented the most vulnerable part of the British line, evidence
began to mount that the Germans would in fact strike first in the
south against Gough. In February Haig warned the Fifth Army
commander that any German attack would almost certainly break
into the defenses of the BEF, and thus Gough should put much
more effort into and reliance upon the preparation of his reserve
lines.12 As both Gough and Haig turned to the mounting prospect
of a German attack against the Fifth Army, a dangerous discon-
nect developed. To face the coming storm Gough requested addi-
tional reserves and made ready to fight in a manner more reliant
on forward defenses and manpower. Haig, though, had counseled
defense in depth and even warned Gough that it might be impos-
sible to mount large-scale counterattacks based on lavish use of
manpower even in the battle zone of the defensive system. Indeed
Haig argued that it might be necessary to engage in a fighting
withdrawal to the area of Peronne on the Somme while awaiting
promised French reserves to stall the German attack.13
Having made strategically sound decisions, as the German of-
fensive neared, Haig confided to his wife, “I must say I feel quite
confident, and so do my troops. Personally, I feel in the words of
2nd Chronicles, XX Chap., that it is ‘God’s battle’ and I am not
dismayed by the numbers of the enemy.”14 Haig’s confidence,
though, was soon to be tested, for on March 21, seventy-six Ger-
man divisions struck at the Fifth Army between Arras and Laon
in an attempt to drive a wedge between the British and the
French. In addition to their obvious numerical advantage, the
Germans employed effective, but in the end deeply flawed, tac-
tics against Gough’s imperfect system of defenses. Instead of us-
ing linear tactics to achieve fixed objectives, the Germans, aided
by a thick fog, used storm-troop methods focusing on tactics of
surprise, speed, and deep and continuous penetration. The Ger-
man infantry worked to infiltrate and then bypass strong points,
taking the path of least resistance. German artillery tactics were
similarly inventive, relying on a short, intense barrage aimed
more at harassing the enemy than achieving his destruction.15
96 haig

In defense Gough had erred by placing too high a percentage

of his men forward, in positions that were too distant from each
other to offer needed support, and German attackers quickly
penetrated into the Fifth Army’s as-yet-incomplete battle zone.
Thus, vastly outnumbered and poorly deployed, Gough’s Fifth
Army quickly began a retreat. At first Haig realized little of the
nature of the setback, and believed the situation to be well in
hand. By March 23, though, Haig had learned that the Fifth
Army had failed in its efforts at defense in depth and in places
had been pushed back more than twelve miles, confiding, “I was
surprised to learn that his [Gough’s] troops are now behind the
Somme and the R. Tortville . . . I cannot make out why the Fifth
Army has gone so far back without making some kind of stand.”
In response to the German advance Haig attempted to secure
the promised reserve forces from Petain, reminding the French
commander that the Germans, if unchecked, could divide the
Allied armies and drive the BEF into the sea. In a meeting on
March 24, though, Haig discovered that the required reserves
were not going to be forthcoming. Petain contended that the
German attack was but a diversion, to be followed by an attack
toward Paris, which would necessitate retention of French re-
serve units. Haig recorded, “I at once asked Petain if he meant to
abandon my right flank. He nodded assent and added ‘it is the
only thing possible, if the enemy compelled the Allies to fall
back still further.’” The refusal came as a true shock to Haig who
continued, “In my opinion, our Army’s existence in France de-
pends on keeping the British and French Armies united.”16
Haig faced a grave crisis partly of his own making. The Fifth
Army, which had at best only poorly understood its role in the
battle, was retreating under constant German pressure. BEF re-
serves were positioned too far to the north and faced a suspected
second German attack in that sensitive area. The French reserves
that had been earmarked to support Gough and make good his
defense, though, were being withheld. In response, an Allied
conference convened at Doullens on March 26, to deal with the
growing crisis. Haig was quite certain that disaster would ensue
 1918 97

if the French did not shift reserves to the defense of the Amiens
area, and he did not believe Petain capable of such decisive ac-
tion. Thus for the good of the Allied cause, and as a move toward
gaining the needed reserves to avoid defeat, Haig put aside his
national pride. At the conference Clemenceau suggested that
Foch be placed in coordination of the Allied effort to defend
Amiens. Haig recorded in his diary:
This proposal seemed to me quite worthless as Foch would be in a
subordinate position to Petain and myself. In my opinion, it was es-
sential to success that Foch should control Petain; so I at once rec-
ommended that Foch should co-ordinate the action of the Allied
Armies on the Western front. Both Governments agreed to this.17

Thus Haig was critical to the construction of a unified Allied com-

mand on the western front. Though it took some time to iron out
the details of the arrangement, especially the level of Foch’s control
over British reserves, Haig had taken the critical step by sublimat-
ing his desires to the greater good. Simply put, Haig believed that
Petain’s pessimism had placed the Allies on the road to certain dis-
aster. In an effort to control Petain and reclaim the situation Haig
had been willing to elevate Foch to supreme command. Ironically,
the move to place British forces under the supreme leadership of a
foreign commander, so cherished by Lloyd George and hitherto
consistently resisted by Haig, would serve only to strengthen
Haig’s hand. On most strategic issues Foch and Haig saw eye-to-
eye, and Foch’s leadership placed a buffer between Haig and his
political tormentors in London. Thus supreme command would
serve to blunt criticism of Haig, and would in many ways allow
the commander in chief of the BEF a much freer hand in decision
making than he had ever before enjoyed.
Even as the Allies moved toward a unified command, the
German offensive began to stall. Though too much blame was
attached to his command failings, and too little claim given to
new German methods, Gough was replaced in command by
Rawlinson. The change in commanders, though, was not critical
to the battle, for shifting needed reserves to the area combined
98 haig

with the grim realities of the Great War to bring the German for-
ward movement to a halt. The German forces had taken heavy
losses, were tiring, had outrun their critical artillery support, and
perhaps most importantly had outrun their own supply system.18
Allied lines eventually held firm near Villers Bretonneux, and,
though the Germans had succeeded in an advance of nearly
twenty-five miles they had failed to take the critical rail junction
of Amiens. The battle had been quite costly, with the BEF losing
175,000 casualties and the Germans suffering a roughly similar
fate. Haig faced stern questions in London about his handling of
the battle, and twice suggested that if the government did not
trust his judgment it should replace him. However, even as the
military and the government sparred over the blame for the set-
back, the Germans prepared to strike again.
Haig had long been certain that the Germans would launch
their main attack further to the north, and as fighting died down
near Amiens he pressed Foch for reserves to face the expected of-
fensive. Foch, however, demurred even as the Germans attacked
on April 9, between La Basse and Ypres. With a numerical
advantage of two to one the Germans were able to achieve a five-
kilometer advance toward the critical logistics hub of Haze-
brouck. Realizing the serious nature of the attack, Foch agreed to
move “a large force” of French soldiers to the north but declined
to take over any part of the line to free British reserves for the
battle. Understanding that a German advance to depth in Flan-
ders would threaten the entire British war effort, Haig re-
sponded on April 11 by issuing a famous dispatch to his troops.
Lauding their defensive efforts Haig went on:
Many amongst us are now tired. To those I would say that victory will
belong to the side which holds out longest. The French Army is mov-
ing 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 on the conduct of each one of us at this critical moment.19
 1918 99

The promised French reserves were slow in arriving, causing

Haig great anxiety. However, much more quickly than before,
the German offensive lost momentum. In Flanders the British
defenses were much better prepared and dealt quite harshly
with the German attackers. There remained moments of crisis,
including the fall of Mount Kemmel and the need to evacuate
the gains made in the hard-fought Third Ypres offensive of
1917. However, by the end of the month the German attack
had slowed, and Haig noticed that “the enemy was not fighting
with the same determination he showed at the beginning of the
battle.”20
The German attack in the north had stalled, but the overall
cost had been great. The BEF had, in both German offensives,
lost a total of 240,000 casualties. Already under-strength before
the attacks, the manpower crisis now loomed larger than ever in
the BEF. Lloyd George and the British government moved
quickly to make good the losses, but not before controversy
struck. As recriminations flew regarding the setbacks on the
western front, General Sir Frederick Maurice, the Director of
Military Operations on the Imperial General Staff, leveled a
public accusation at Lloyd George of starving the BEF of troops.
As the government fought through the dangerous controversy,
Haig remained aloof from the struggle, writing to his wife,
“Reuter states that Gen. Maurice has written to the papers. This
is a grave mistake. No one can be both a soldier and a politician
at the same time. We soldiers have to do our duty and keep
silent, trusting to Ministers to protect us.”21
On May 27, after a period of relative calm, the Germans
struck again, this time against the French. As with the offensive
in March the Germans made great initial gains and eventually
penetrated the French lines to a depth of twenty-five miles, once
again reaching the Marne River. At first Haig was quite reluctant
to part with his own reserves to aid the French, fearing that the
attack was a diversion to mask a later effort to be made against
the BEF. However, as the situation continued to develop and
worsen, Haig relented and Allied agreements codified the power
100 haig

of Foch as supreme commander over the movement of British

units. The shift to a truly unified command was not made with-
out animosity, but Haig agreed, and the German attack once
again began to lose momentum.
Though the Germans continued to move forward into July,
their pace had slowed considerably. Both Haig and Foch were
now certain that the Germans would not win the war by military
means in 1918, and the two began to consider mounting offen-
sive operations of their own. After deciding first to launch a se-
ries of quite limited offensives, on July 4, ten battalions of
Australians struck and seized Le Hamel. After a brief German of-
fensive on July 15, the French launched a successful counter-
stroke on July 18, along the Aisne River. It now was readily
apparent to both Haig and Foch that the tide on the western
front had turned and that the time for a major Allied offensive
was at hand. In London, though, the British government still de-
spaired regarding the ongoing fighting, and Lloyd George hoped
to wait for the arrival of massive American forces before launch-
ing any counterattack. However, though efforts to replace Haig
continued, the Prime Minister’s control over his commander in
chief was lessened by the reality of Foch’s supreme command.
Regardless of Lloyd George’s wishes, in a meeting on July 24,
Haig and Foch came to the conclusion that the time was right
for “regaining the initiative and passing to the offensive.” The
two agreed that the BEF would launch a surprise attack in the
area of Amiens as soon as possible.
The planning for the initial major BEF offensive of 1918 fell
once again to Rawlinson. Judging that the Germans around
Amiens had done little to construct defensive works and were
under strength, Rawlinson and Haig realized that speed was of
the essence if they were to capitalize on the situation and thus
took only three weeks to plan and prepare the coming offensive.
Relying on elaborate measures to ensure secrecy, Rawlinson’s
draft scheme called for an attack by eleven divisions on a 19,000-
yard front from Morlancourt to Demuin. The advance was to
take place in three stages and aimed at British, Canadian, and
 1918 101

Australian forces penetrating the German lines to a depth of

6,000 yards, a mammoth goal considering the relative lack of
forward movement in earlier British offensives. Haig approved
Rawlinson’s desire to achieve great goals at Amiens, and accepted
Rawlinson’s plan with little interference; in the words of Prior
and Wilson:
We may contrast this behavior with his [Haig’s] attitude before and
during the Somme campaign of 1916, when he intervened fre-
quently and in detail during the planning process. No doubt in the
aftermath of the Hamel operation he was more confident that the
Fourth Army knew its business. But it was also the case that, as the
British army at every level became a more complex, sophisticated,
and above all specialist organization, any detailed intervention by
the commander-in-chief became increasingly inappropriate. Haig’s
job . . . was—it may be suggested—diminishing not expanding as
the forces under his direction grew in expertise and complexity. And
Haig . . . proved far more effective as a commander once the sphere
of his activities began to diminish to an extent that brought them
within the limits of his capabilities.22

Indeed the British methods of attack were a far cry from what
had been seen on the first day of the Somme only two years
prior. Infantry, which had been outmatched in 1916, now packed
a considerable punch allowing for greater tactical flexibility on
the battlefield. In 1918 each British battalion had at its disposal
thirty Lewis guns (portable machine guns), eight light trench
mortars, and sixteen rifle-grenadiers. Thus the infantry now car-
ried the firepower that effectively enabled it to deal with enemy
strong points without having to wait for cumbersome artillery
support. With their newfound strength the infantry was able to
use speed and infiltration tactics to advance to depth. Addition-
ally, the Fourth Army could rely on a force of over five hundred
tanks and enjoyed command of the air during the coming battle.
Of the greatest importance, though, were advancements in
the use of artillery. The weaponry at hand, 1,236 field guns and
677 heavy guns, had increased greatly in accuracy and lethality
since the Somme. Also, with the newfound power of the in-
102 haig

fantry, the artillery was called upon to do less. There was no plan
for the artillery to destroy the German trenches at Amiens; it
only had to facilitate the advance of the infantry by keeping the
Germans under cover. Still, the gunners relied on a strict ratio of
weight of shell to enemy trench, leaving nothing to chance. Also,
using techniques known as flash spotting and sound ranging,
British artillery now proved quite adept at locating and silencing
enemy artillery batteries. Thus during the coming attack British
artillery effectively kept the Germans in their trenches and si-
lenced their supporting guns, calming the deadly German
“storm of steel” that had cost the lives of so many British attack-
ers during 1916 and 1917. At the Battle of Amiens the Fourth
Army demonstrated an unparalleled level of all arms coordina-
tion—aircraft, armor, infantry, and artillery all working seam-
lessly together—the true formula for tactical success in the Great
War.23
With the aid of complete surprise the Fourth Army advanced
in the early morning hours of August 8, under the cover of a
heavy mist, achieving results that were remarkable in terms of
the Great War. Except on the extreme flanks the Fourth Army
reached all of its major goals, advancing up to eight miles, cap-
turing four hundred enemy guns, inflicting fifteen thousand ca-
sualties on the defenders, and capturing twelve thousand
prisoners while French forces captured some three thousand
more. It was a truly prodigious victory, forcing Ludendorff to
dub August 8 as, “a black day for the German Army in the his-
tory of this war.”24 The victory, due in part to the brave accom-
plishment of Dominion forces, heartened Haig, who recorded in
his diary that, “the situation had developed more favourably for
us than I, optimist though I am, had dared even to hope!”25
With Haig and Rawlinson expecting even greater results, pos-
sibly including cavalry action, the attack continued the next day,
and though somewhat ragged in comparison, achieved an ad-
vance of a further three miles. However, the realities of the Great
War now worked against the British as they had worked against
the Germans in March. Attacking units had lost cohesion, tanks
104 haig

had broken down in droves, and communications had suffered

terribly. Most importantly, though, the British had advanced so
quickly as to outrun their critical and overwhelming artillery
support. In contrast, the Germans had rushed reinforcements,
both men and guns, to the battle area. The balance of warfare,
earlier tipped by detailed planning and overwhelming firepower,
had shifted back to the defender. In previous such situations
Haig had chosen to fight on in an attritional style, but such was
not to be the case in 1918.
After only four days of fighting Haig and Rawlinson called an
end to the Battle of Amiens. At first Haig wanted to call only a
short halt to allow the Fourth Army a chance to regroup. How-
ever, the Commander of the Canadian Corps, Lieutenant Gen-
eral Sir Arthur Currie, informed Rawlinson and Haig that he
believed the continuation of the offensive to be a “desperate en-
terprise,” given the shifting balance of forces. Haig listened to
his subordinate and called off a further attack in the area in favor
of widening the offensive to include the First and Third Armies.
In a meeting on August 14, Haig informed Foch of his inten-
tions, eliciting an angry reply from the Supreme Commander
tantamount to an order to continue the offensive. Haig recorded
in his diary, “I spoke to Foch quite straightly and let him under-
stand that I was responsible to my Government and fellow citizens
for the handling of the British forces.”26 It was a true turning point
in Haig’s career. From this point on he would command his own
battles, with only limited direction from Foch, and from this
point on he would prosecute a series of battles on the operational
level.
During the coming string of British and Allied successes
against German defenders in France and Flanders, much has
been made of the fact that only a perceived collapse of German
morale allowed the Allied victory. Certainly the German divi-
sions of 1918 were bloodied and tired, but so were those of the
BEF. The historical team of Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson dealt
with the question of morale in their groundbreaking Command
on the Western Front, concluding:
 1918 105

In any case, explaining victory and defeat at Amiens in terms of

morale misses the real nature of the transaction. High morale could
avail German artillerymen little when assailed by such an onslaught
of high explosive as delivered by the British counter-battery pro-
gram, or help German machine-gunners when set upon by a com-
bination of tanks, mortars and rifle grenades in the aftermath of a
creeping barrage. . . . The conclusion is inescapable. The Germans,
however parlous their circumstances, were defeated by superior fire-
power tactics, which even their best troops could not withstand.27
In offensive operations from August 21 to 23, the Third Army,
under the command of General Sir Julian Byng, enjoyed far less
numerical superiority and also did not achieve an appreciable
level of surprise. More cautious than Rawlinson, Byng moved
forward into the Battle of Albert rather slowly, earning Haig’s
ire, but achieving great results. The shift in attack frontage had
somewhat wrongfooted the Germans and helped to break their
system of defenses in the area, resulting in the capture of over ten
thousand prisoners. The achievement, somewhat less expected
than the gains made at Amiens, sparked Haig to believe that the
Great War was indeed nearing an end. As a result Haig in-
structed his army commanders:
The methods which we have followed, hitherto, in our battles with
limited objectives when the enemy was strong, are no longer suited
to his present condition.
The enemy has not the means to deliver counter-attacks on an
extended scale, nor has he the numbers to hold a position against
the very extended advance which is not being directed upon him.
To turn the present situation to account the most resolute offen-
sive is everywhere desirable. Risks which a month ago would have
been criminal to incur, ought to be incurred as a duty.28
Though both Ludendorff and the Kaiser agreed with Haig’s
assessment that Germany had lost the war, Haig’s renewed hope
for decisive battle remained premature. On August 26, Haig ex-
tended the attack frontage even further by opening offensive ac-
tion on the front of the First Army. Fighting remained bitter,
and the Germans did not want to give ground, but were forced
106 haig

to retire to their Winter Line of defenses. Nearly constant British

pressure, though, quickly flanked the Germans, forcing a further
retirement to the security of the Hindenburg Line. During the
confusing engagements of late August and early September, tac-
tical command tended to devolve upon those closer to the scene
of the semi-mobile series of battles. Thus, though Haig retained
overall command, many of the most important decisions now
fell to his capable subordinates, including Lieutenant General
Sir John Monash, in command of the Australian Corps, and
Currie, in command of the Canadian Corps. In all, the great se-
ries of victories by the BEF from the Battle of Albert to mid-
September had driven the Germans backward over fifteen miles
from prepared systems of defense and captured upward of forty
thousand prisoners. The cost, though, was heavy at over eighty
thousand casualties. The considerable victory was tempered by
the fact that the BEF now faced the most formidable defensive
network ever constructed on the western front.
Haig remained confident, but was aware that the situation
had changed and that immediate, decisive battle no longer
seemed possible.29 In London the British government, while
heartened by recent victories, despaired over the ability of the
BEF to assail the Hindenburg Line without the battle devolving
into another Somme or Third Ypres. Thus Wilson sent Haig a
telegram warning the commander in chief that the War Cabinet
“would become anxious if we received heavy punishment in at-
tacking the Hindenburg Line without success.” The telegram
angered Haig, who recorded in his diary:
The object of this telegram is, no doubt, to save the Prime Minister
in case of any failure. So I read it to mean that I can attack the Hin-
denburg Line if I think it right to do so. The C.I.G.S. and the Cab-
inet already know that my arrangements are being made to that
end. If my attack is successful, I will remain on as C. in C. If we fail,
or our losses are excessive, I can hope for no mercy!30

In early September Haig took his case for a continuation of

the offensive directly to the new Secretary of State for War, Lord
 1918 107

Milner. Unconvinced, Milner warned Haig that if he used up

British manpower in attacks in 1918, there would be none left,
thus compromising Britain’s position if the war lingered. After
their conversations a worried Milner reported that he “had
grave doubts whether he had got inside of D. H.’s head,” and
that Haig was “ridiculously optimistic.” Wilson agreed and ar-
gued that the War Cabinet would have to “watch this tendency
& stupidity of D. H.” Having heard all of the worrisome re-
ports, Lloyd George chose to make an effort to shift British
forces away from the western front, allowing the war there to
become a rather American affair.31 However, events in France
and Flanders soon proved the Prime Minister wrong and pre-
empted his planning.
Obviously success on the battlefield had done little to ease
strained relations between the War Cabinet and the commander
in chief of the BEF. However, Haig was fairly free to move for-
ward in his planning, being insulated by Foch’s position as the
Supreme Commander. In a mark of true coalition warfare the
two began to lay plans for a general offensive designed to con-
clude the war, calling for a French and American assault in the
south between the Meuse River and Reims on September 26,
followed the next two days by an attack by the British First and
Third Armies, and an offensive by the Group of Armies in Flan-
ders (GAF) respectively. The attacks were designed to lock Ger-
man reserves in place and support the final and most important
offensive, undertaken by the British Fourth Army in the center
of the line against the strongest part of the German defensive
network.
On September 26, American and French forces launched
their Meuse-Argonne offensive. Though the attack initially
achieved only limited success, it held considerable German
forces in the threatened and strategically important area. Further
north, facing the formidable defenses of the Canal du Nord, the
British Third Army attacked on September 27, and, led by the
Canadian Corps, in two days of fighting drove a wedge twelve
miles wide and six miles deep into the German defenses, captur-
108 haig

ing some ten thousand prisoners in the process. The next day the
GAF struck in Flanders and drove nearly six miles into the Ger-
man lines there, very nearly reaching the critical rail hub of
Roulers. The losses were indeed so severe that Ludendorff called
a meeting with the Kaiser to advise that Germany immediately
seek an armistice. However, the worst was yet to come.
Rawlinson’s Fourth Army faced the most formidable portion
of the Hindenburg Line, a system ranging up to 6,000 yards in
depth and numbering six main defensive lines, incorporating the
considerable obstacle of the St. Quentin Canal. Attacking and
defending forces, roughly equal in number, were both bloodied
and exhausted, many having fought for weeks on end without
respite. Against the mighty German defenses, Rawlinson could
rely only on artillery fire equal in weight to the bombardment
that had preceded the disastrous first day on the Somme. Yet
both Rawlinson and Haig were confident in the plan of battle,
partially developed by Monash. The Fourth Army had not ig-
nored the lessons of years of battle—for the artillery was now so
accurate and lethal, and called upon to do so much less, that the
weight of shell proved more than enough to complete the task.
Much had changed in just over two years’ time.
In confused operations on the northern portion of the front,
where the St. Quentin Canal ran through a massive tunnel, the
attack undertaken by American and Australian forces achieved
little, demonstrating that the BEF was still far from perfect.
However, further south troops of the Forty-sixth Division, using
life belts and small boats to cross the canal, had moved forward
6,000 yards, nearly breaking through the mightiest German de-
fenses on the western front in a single day. In the following week
the Fourth Army consolidated its uneven gains and finally
pierced the last lines of the central Hindenburg system, breaking
out into open ground beyond, having achieved one of the great-
est feats of arms in British military history.32
Though over a month of hard fighting remained, the fall of
the Hindenburg Line spelled Germany’s doom in the Great War.
As Allied advances continued, Haig began to be concerned with
 1918 109

issues beyond the immediate battlefield, for on October 6, the

Germans asked for an armistice. Haig was disturbed to learn that
Foch demanded what amounted to an unconditional surrender.
Though the German army was in full retreat and Germany itself
was near disintegration, Haig, seemingly the eternal optimist,
now counseled caution. He believed that the Germans were
ready to end the war, but also that they could fight on if pressed.
When on October 19 Lloyd George asked his opinion concern-
ing armistice terms, Haig replied:
The German Army is capable of retiring to its own frontier, and
holding that line if there should be any attempt to touch the honour
of the German people and make them fight with the courage of de-
spair. . . . The French and American Armies are not capable of mak-
ing a serious offensive now. The British alone might bring the
enemy to his knees. But why expend more British lives—and for
what? . . . I therefore advise that we only ask in the armistice for
what we intend to hold, and that we set our faces against the French
entering Germany to pay off old scores.33
While talks regarding a possible armistice continued, the BEF
pressed forward, hitting the Germans hard in late October and
early November in the Battle of the Selle and the Battle of the
Sambre. Though the Germans fought spirited rearguard actions,
the advances of the BEF were now coming with greater ease as
the German will to fight slowly diminished. As victory became
more and more certain, Haig turned his attention increasingly to
the coming peace. A voice of reason amid a growing chorus in
favor of revenge, Haig was astonished at the growing magnitude
of French demands regarding the peace. Fearing that such harsh
demands would cause a societal breakdown in Germany on No-
vember 1, Haig shared his prescient forebodings concerning the
peace with his wife:
The Peace of the World, for the next 50 years at least, may depend
upon the decisions taken! So it is important that our Statesmen
should think over the situation carefully and not attempt to so hu-
miliate Germany as to produce the desire for revenge in years to
come.34
110 haig

Events, though, moved more quickly than Haig expected. On

November 9, the Kaiser abdicated and two days later the Great
War came to a rather unexpected end. During 1918 the BEF had
come of age and won the greatest victory ever in British his-
tory—a victory achieved by an army commanded and led by
Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig. The BEF had faced the brunt of
the German offensives in the spring, and, though it had made
mistakes and suffered greatly, persevered. During the period of
the Hundred Days battles, beginning with Amiens, the BEF had
played the most substantial role in an Allied effort that drove the
German army and nation to sue for peace. Using superior all-
arms coordination the BEF had developed into a “weapons sys-
tem” capable of defeating the vaunted German army and
punching through even the powerful Hindenburg Line in a sin-
gle day. In all during the period of the Allied offensive the BEF
had advanced over one hundred miles, through the strongest de-
fenses on the western front, and captured over 186,000 prison-
ers. The cost of victory was admittedly high, with the BEF
suffering 67,000 fatalities and some 33,000 missing or prisoners,
while inflicting losses at least as dire upon the Germans.35
As the BEF had come of age in 1918, in many ways so had
Haig. Though he had played less of a tactical role in the cam-
paign as it became more mobile, Haig remained in strategic con-
trol of a military force that no longer needed his direct guidance,
which is in itself a testimony to his success as a commander in
chief. Often the recipient of more praise by historians, Luden-
dorff had squandered the gains made through use of superior
tactics by pressing attacks in vain after their chance of strategic
success had passed—problems ascribed to Haig in 1916 and 1917.
The BEF, though, no longer attempted advances to great depth,
but under Haig’s direction broadened the scope of their opera-
tions to bring pressure on the entire German front. Thus, when
combined with the tactical skill gained in years of combat, the
strategy instituted by Haig proved to be superior to that of the
Germans and was the critical element that brought about Allied
victory in 1918.
 1918 111

Haig remained quite taciturn as the war came to an end, only

noting in his diary on November 11 simply that, “The Armistice
came into force at 11 A.M.”36 To his wife, though, Haig had been
rather more candid and reflective regarding the Great War. He
wrote, “My first thought is to thank that Power that has guided
and guarded me all these anxious years,” adding his thanks to his
wife for her continued support “to me through these long black
days since I left you at Aldershot.”37
 Chapter 7

Conclusion

E ven haig’s homecoming after the Great

War was not without political incident. Lloyd George, who had
been conspicuously silent regarding congratulations to Haig and
the BEF regarding their roles in the Allied victory, on December
1 hosted a London ceremony in honor of Foch. Haig was slated
to ride in the fifth carriage in the procession, along with Henry
Wilson, and was not invited to the subsequent reception.1 Haig
recorded in his diary:

I felt that this was more of an insult than I could put up with, even
from the Prime Minister. For the past three years I have effaced
myself, because I felt that, to win the war, it was essential that the
British and French Armies should get on well together. I have pa-
tiently submitted to Lloyd George’s conceit and swagger, com-
bined with much boasting as to, ‘what he had accomplished,
thanks to his foresight in appointing Foch as C. in C. of the Allied
Forces’. . . . The real truth, which history will show, is that the
British Army won the war in France in spite of L.G. and I have no
intention of taking part in any triumphal ride with Foch, or with
any pack of foreigners, through the streets of London, mainly in
112
 conclusion 113

order to add to L.G.’s importance and help him in his election

campaign.2
After this somewhat shabby treatment, Haig received his for-
mal welcome home on December 19, replete with honor guards
and presentations at Buckingham Palace. What affected Haig
the most about the day, though, was the outpouring of affection
from the grateful British people. He recorded that:
The route was not lined with troops. The reception was essentially
a welcome by the people, without any official interference, and I
could not help feeling how the cheering from the great masses of all
classes came from their hearts. As A.D.C. to King Edward, I have
taken part in many functions, but never before have I seen such
crowds, or such wholehearted enthusiasm. It was indeed most
touching to take part in such a ceremony . . .
To-day, indeed, has been a red letter one in my life. To receive
such a spontaneous welcome, all the way from the Coast to my
house at Kingston Hill shows how the people of England realise
what has been accomplished by the Army and myself. This more
than compensates me for the difficulties so often put in my way
during hostilities and the coldness displayed towards me by the
Prime Minister since the Armistice.3

There also remained the delicate but traditional political as-

pect of rewarding Haig for his wartime service to the nation. In
late November Haig had been offered a viscountcy, which he re-
jected, stating:
Any question of reward for me may stand over until the P.M. has
fixed allowances for Disabled Officers and men as well as . . . for all
ranks of the Armies under my orders. I also note that when F.M.
French was recalled from the command of the Armies in France for
incompetence, he was made a Viscount!4

During the war Haig had repeatedly expressed his displeasure

with the fact that disabled veterans often returned home to live
in poverty and had to rely on charity rather than organized state
aid. His dedication to the men who had served under his com-
mand remained central to Haig’s thinking and actions after the
114 haig

war. For nearly three months Haig refused to accept any peerage
or monetary reward for his service, rather publicly embarrassing
the government into giving quick consideration to the pension
needs of disabled British soldiers. When the government re-
sponded that the soldiers were being well looked after by the
charities, an angered Haig responded, “Officers and their wives
. . . will not, and ought not to be asked to, accept Charity.”
Eventually, though, Haig accepted his reward but only after,
“The Govt. has promised to do its duty in the matter—indeed
the whole country is now behind me in its determination to see
that these gallant fellows and their dependents are properly
treated.” On August 6, 1919, Haig was granted a pension of
100,000 pounds and was shortly thereafter created an earl. In
1921, the grateful nation also presented Haig with the ancestral
home at Bemersyde.5
After a brief stay at home Haig returned to the continent, this
time to oversee the BEF as it made ready to demobilize from
war. What concerned him in the process was a policy known as
“pivotalism” through which men who had guaranteed jobs in in-
dustry were demobilized first regardless of when they had joined
the military. Haig thought the process unfair to those who had
served longer and proposed demobilization by complete forma-
tions. The government ignored his advice and a serious riot de-
veloped at Calais in January when solders returning from leave
refused to rejoin their units. Though the riots died down with
little fanfare, Churchill, who had taken over the War Office,
later remarked; “It is surprising that the Commander-in-Chief ’s
prescient warnings [regarding pivotalism] were utterly ignored,
and the Army left to be irritated and almost convulsed by a com-
plicated artificial system open at every point to suspicion of job-
bery and humbug.”
In April 1919, Haig left the BEF to take command of the
Home Forces in Britain, a position he would hold until its aboli-
tion in 1920. Haig was not asked to take part in the peace process,
nor would he have thought his participation in that process to be
proper. Again Churchill commented on the situation:
 conclusion 115

Early in 1919 . . . Lord Haig walked ashore at Dover after the total
defeat of Germany and disappeared into private life. . . . Titles,
grants, honours of every kind, all the symbols of public gratitude
were showered upon him; but he was given no work. He did not
join the counsels of the nation; he was not invited to reorganize its
army; he was not consulted upon the Treaties; no sphere of public
activity was opened to him.6
Haig, though, remained quite busy and devoted his life to
championing the cause of the soldiers who had served under his
command in the Great War. Chief in this regard was Haig’s tire-
less work with the British Legion. In the wake of the war several
veterans’ organizations had sprung into being, organizations that
were often at odds with one another. Haig used his considerable
fame, though, to press for unity between the various organiza-
tions so that veterans of the Great War could speak with one
voice. Haig was also quite passionate in his belief that the organ-
ization should foster unity through the inclusion of veterans of
all ranks. Thus, though Haig did not create the British Legion,
his support and guidance was critical to its foundation.7
Haig would serve as the President of the British Legion from
its foundation in 1921 until his death in 1928. During the time pe-
riod Haig worked hard to keep the Legion from becoming a po-
litical instrument of discord. Mainly, though, he devoted his
seemingly tireless energy to the welfare of his ex-soldiers. As such
Haig was in high demand for making speeches at Legion func-
tions, including the unveilings of monuments across the length
and breadth of Britain as the nation came to terms with the losses
it had suffered in the Great War. On such occasions Haig spoke
of his men in glowing and rather fatherly terms. Accepting the
Freedom of the City of Stirling in October 1922 Haig remarked:
More than all else, perhaps, I am pleased to think that I am to meet
a gathering of ex-servicemen this afternoon. I am glad to think that
I am looked on not only as their old commander, but as a comrade
and a friend. I owe too much to the gallant men of all ranks who
served with me in France to forget them now, or, as far as I can pre-
vent it, to allow others to forget them.8
116 haig

Haig’s sense of duty and paternalism drove him to honor and

champion his men. In so doing he stood nearly alone among
the commanders of the Great War. Veterans’ movements in
France and Germany were bitterly divided by politics and
served as catalysts for social unrest and political violence. That
Haig played a pivotal role in the foundation of the British Le-
gion, which fought for the rights of veterans within the existing
political and social system, can be seen as one of Haig’s most
important achievements.9
While others involved in the Great War worked on their au-
tobiographies, heralding the “War Book Boom” of the 1930s and
opening the heated debate on the nature of the conflict, Haig
again remained, in the main, aloof from the fray—allowing his
conduct of the war to speak for itself. He even insisted that a
glowing report on his command, to be published by Kiggell, not
be released until 1940.10 Seemingly above sordid conflict, and
constant in his desire to champion the cause of those who had
served in World War I, Haig quickly became revered throughout
Britain. Though he had been a rather distant figure as com-
mander in chief, in peacetime Haig was now very much a
beloved father figure to veterans of the Great War.
Haig continued to toil in the veterans’ movement, even to the
point of physical exhaustion. Until the very end he continued
faithfully to answer all correspondence in his own hand, without
the aid of a secretary. Toward the end of his life his doctors
warned him to lighten his work load, but he refused.11 Haig died
unexpectedly on the evening of January 29, 1928, at the age of
sixty-seven. In elaborate funeral arrangements, Haig lay in state
both in London and in Edinburgh. In London an estimated
25,000 people filed by his coffin each day, and later in Edinburgh
crowds of similar size packed the sidewalks for miles in freezing
sleet waiting to pay their respects. Across the nation, those who
could not participate in the ceremony listened as the BBC made
the memorial service one of its first ever live broadcasts.
The spontaneous outpouring of affection for Haig upon his
death was of a magnitude reserved only for heroes of great na-
 conclusion 117

tional importance, equaling the grief expressed at the time of the

death of perhaps Britain’s best loved leader, Sir Winston
Churchill, some thirty-five years later.12 Haig’s hero status
seemed well deserved. He had taken over the command of a fal-
tering BEF and had fought doggedly on through the trials and
tribulations of the Somme and Passchendaele. Though everyone
in Britain mourned the losses of those battles, they were not yet
perceived to be fruitless disasters, but costly victories. Britain still
stood in the relative afterglow of success, and thus to most
Britons in 1928 Haig remained the commander in chief who had
won Britain’s greatest ever military victory—an achievement as
yet unclouded by the coming of the Second World War. Future
generations of historians, though, would come to question the
wisdom and judgment of the crowds of 1928 and speculate on
the nature of Haig’s achievement, allowing the Great War to
continue in another guise. Though the historical trench warfare
concerning his tenure as commander in chief will continue,
Haig was neither the savior of Britain nor the butcher of the
BEF. Haig was indeed a product of his time, an Edwardian gen-
tleman officer confronted by the horrors of the first truly mod-
ern war. Though he made mistakes and learned slowly, Haig did
learn, and more quickly than the military leaders of the other
combatant nations. Suffering through years of travail, the BEF,
under Haig’s leadership, was transformed into a modern force
that in many ways redefined warfare and was capable of defeat-
ing the vaunted Germans. Thus, after the passage of nearly
eighty years and after numerous acrimonious historical debates,
the assessment of Haig’s command has come full circle, for the
wisdom and judgment of the crowds of 1928 seems right and
proper after all.
 Notes

Preface
1. Brian Bond, “The Somme in British History,” in Geoffrey
Jensen and Andrew Wiest, eds., War in the Age of Technology
(New York: New York University Press, 2001).
2. Daniel Todman, “‘Sans peur et sans reproche’: The Retirement,
Death and Mourning of Sir Douglas Haig, 1918–1928.” The
Journal of Military History (October 2003, Vol. 67. No. 4), 1088.
3. J. M. Bourne, “Haig and the Historians,” in Brian Bond and
Nigel Cave, eds., Haig: A Reappraisal 70 Years On. (London: Leo
Cooper, 1999), 1.
4. Denis Winter, Haig’s Command (London: Viking, 1991). For
treatments of Haig and his place in history see, J. M. Bourne,
“Haig and the Historians,” in Brian Bond and Nigel Cave, eds.,
Haig: A Reappraisal 70 Years On (London: Leo Cooper, 1999),
and Keith Simpson, “The Reputation of Sir Douglas Haig,” in
Brian Bond, ed., The First World War and British Military
History (London: Clarendon, 1991).
5. Gary Sheffield, Forgotten Victory (London: Headline, 2001), 135.
6. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, “Review of Denis Winter, Haig’s
Command: A Reassessment,” Australian War Memorial Journal (23,
October 1993), 57.

Chapter 1
1. John Charteris, Field-Marshal Earl Haig (New York: Charles
Scribner’s Sons, 1929), 4.
2. Gerard J. De Groot, Douglas Haig, 1861‒1928 (London: Unwin
Hyman, 1989), 18–23.
3. Ibid., 27.
120 notes

4. Gerard J. De Groot, “Ambition, Duty and Doctrine: Douglas

Haig’s Rise to High Command,” in Bond, Haig: A Reappraisal,
42–48.
5. Tim Travers, The Killing Ground (London: Unwin Hyman,
1987).
6. De Groot, “Ambition, Duty and Doctrine,” in Bond, Haig: A
Reappraisal, 41.
7. De Groot, Haig, 59.
8. Ian F. W. Beckett, “Haig and French,” in Bond, Haig: A
Reappraisal, 55, and Richard Holmes, “The Last Hurrah: Cavalry
on the Western Front, August to September 1914,” in Hugh
Cecil and Peter Liddle, eds., Facing Armageddon: The First World
War Experienced (London: Leo Cooper, 1996), 288.
9. Ibid., 41–42; Charteris, Haig, 32–33.
10. Terraine, Haig, 40.
11. Charteris, Haig, 55–56.
12. Denis Winter, Haig’s Command: A Reassessment (New York:
Viking, 1991) 13.

Chapter 2
1. Gerald French, The Life of Field-Marshal Sir John French
(London: Cassell, 1931), 237. Also see Andrew Wiest,
Passchendaele and the Royal Navy (Westport: Greenwood Press,
1995).
2. Robert Blake, ed., The Private Papers of Douglas Haig,
1914–1919. (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1952), Haig diary
entry, August 5, 1914.
3. For a summary of the French-Kitchener relationship see Richard
Holmes, “Sir John French and Lord Kitchener,” in Bond, The
First World War.
4. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, August 11, 1914.
5. Ibid., Haig diary entry, August 13, 1914.
6. Holmes, “French and Kitchener,” in Bond, The First World War,
120.
7. De Groot, Haig, 159.
8. Ibid., 162.
9. Terraine, Haig, 93–94.
10. Wiest, Passchendaele, 3–9.
11. Terraine, Haig, 102–103.
 notes 121

12. De Groot, Haig, 166.

13. Ibid., 168.

Chapter 3
1. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Command on the Western Front
(Oxford: Blackwell, 1992), 36–38.
2. For a summary of communications advances see Paddy Griffith,
Battle Tactics of the Western Front: The British Army’s Art of
Attack, 1916–1918 (New Haven: Yale, 1994), 169–175.
3. Andy Wiest, The Illustrated History of World War I (London:
Brown Books, 2001), 73.
4. Shelford Bidwell and Dominick Graham, Fire-Power: British
Army Weapons and Theories of War, 1904–1945 (Boston: Allen &
Unwin, 1982), 62–65; De Groot, Haig, 27–53.
5. Wiest, Passchendaele, 20–26; War Council Minutes, January 1915,
Cabinet Papers, CAB 22/1, British National Archives, Kew.
6. Haig Diary, entry for February 25, 1915, British National
Archives, Kew.
7. Prior and Wilson, Command, 31.
8. Ibid., 44–51.
9. Ibid., 78.
10. De Groot, Haig, 183; Bidwell and Graham, Fire-Power, 75.
11. Prior and Wilson, Command, 83.
12. Ibid., 85.
13. Blake, Papers, 93, Haig diary entry, May 11, 1915.
14. Terraine, Haig, 148–149.
15. Holmes, “Sir John French,” in Bond, The First World War,
125–128.
16. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, August 7, 1915, and August 19,
1915.
17. Prior and Wilson, Command, 108–112.
18. Terraine, Haig, 157.
19. De Groot, Haig, 207.
20. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, October 24, 1915.
21. Griffith, Battle Tactics, 53.

Chapter 4
1. John Hussey, “Portrait of a Commander-in-Chief,” in Bond,
Haig, 19.
122 notes

2. See Gary Sheffield, “The Morale of the British Army on the

Western Front, 1914–1918,” in Jensen and Wiest, War in the Age
of Technology, 105–139.
3. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, March 29, 1916.
4. Prior and Wilson, Command, 138.
5. De Groot, Haig, 220.
6. Terraine, Haig, 176.
7. Ibid., 173. Also see Nigel Cave, “Haig and Religion,” in Bond,
Haig, 240–260; and G. S. Duncan, Douglas Haig As I Knew
Him (London: Allen and Unwin, 1966).
8. Hussey, “Portrait,” in Bond, Haig, 20.
9. Peter Simkins, “Haig and the Army Commanders,” in Bond,
Haig, 94–95.
10. De Groot, Haig, 223.
11. David R. Woodward, “Sir William Robertson and Sir Douglas
Haig,” in Bond, Haig, 65–67; also see David R. Woodward,
Field Marshal Sir William Robertson Chief of the Imperial General
Staff in the Great War (Westport: Greenwood, 1998).
12. Haig Diary, entry for December 28, 1915.
13. Ibid., December 21, 1915.
14. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, June 7, 1916.
15. Gary Sheffield, The Somme (London: Cassell, 2003), 25.
16. Prior and Wilson, Command, 141.
17. Ibid., 169.
18. Haig Diary, entry for June 30, 1916.
19. Sheffield, Somme, 50.
20. Fricourt actually fell on the next day, due to British advances on
its flanks making the defensive works there untenable.
21. Prior and Wilson, Command, 184.
22. Sheffield, Somme, 68.
23. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, July 3, 1916.
24. Prior and Wilson, Command, 187–193.
25. Gary Sheffield, Forgotten Victory: The First World War: Myths and
Realities (London: Headline, 2001), 173–174.
26. Blake, Papers, Note on letter received from CIGS dated July 29.
27. Prior and Wilson, Command, 203–205.
28. Ibid., 230.
29. J. P. Harris, “Haig and The Tank,” in Bond, Haig, 146–147.
30. De Groot, Haig, 265–266.
 notes 123

31. Terraine, Haig, 222.

32. David Lloyd George, War Memoirs (London: Odhams, 1938),
385.
33. Harris, “Haig and The Tank,” in Bond, Haig, 148–149. One of
the best recent accounts of the tank’s development and use can
be found in J. P. Harris, Men Ideas and Tanks (Manchester:
Manchester University Press, 1995).
34. John Laffin, British Butchers and Bunglers of World War One
(Wolfeboro Falls, NH: Sutton, 1988), 99.
35. E. Ludendorff, My War Memories, 1914–1918 (London:
Hutchinson, n.d.), 307.
36. Sheffield, Somme, 162.

Chapter 5
1. “Report on Naval Affairs, October 1916,” November 2, 1916,
Cabinet Papers, CAB 22/62.
2. H. H. Asquith, A Note to Robertson, November 21, 1916,
Cabinet Papers, CAB 22/70.
3. De Groot, Haig, 227.
4. De Groot, Haig, 288.
5. Sir Maurice Hankey, The Supreme Command (London: Allen
and Unwin, 1961), 2:616–617.
6. Haig Diary, entry for February 26, 1917.
7. Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Passchendaele: The Untold Story
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996), 29, 55–56.
8. Wiest, Passchendaele, 77.
9. “Preliminary Report on Proposed Operations in the Nieuport
Sector,” Sir Henry Rawlinson Papers, Fourth Army Records,
19:102, Imperial War Musuem.
10. Kiggell to Plumer and Gough, May 24 and 29, 1917, War Office
Papers, WO 158/215, British National Archives, Kew.
11. Haig to Robertson, June 12, 1917, Cabinet Papers, CAB 27/7, wp
3.
12. Blake, Papers, Robertson to Haig, June 13, 1917.
13. For a full discussion of the effect of the Admiralty on the plan-
ning of the Third Battle of Ypres, see Wiest, Passchendaele.
14. See Travers, Killing Ground.
15. For a fuller discussion of the planning of Third Ypres see
Andrew Wiest, “Haig, Gough and Passchendaele,” in Gary
124 notes

Sheffield, ed., Leadership and Command: The Anglo-American

Experience Since 1861 (London: Brassey’s, 1997).
16. Gough to Edmonds, February 2, 1944, Cabinet Papers, CAB
45/140.
17. Prior and Wilson, Passchendaele, 82–84.
18. Kiggell to Army Commanders, August 7, 1917, Haig Papers,
Acc. 3155 (116), National Library of Scotland.
19. Prior and Wilson, Passchendaele, 114–116.
20. Ibid., 134.
21. See Heinz Hagenluke, “The German High Command,” and
German Werth, “Flanders 1917 and the German Soldier,” in
Peter H. Liddle, ed., Passchendaele in Perspective (London: Leo
Cooper, 1997).
22. Wiest, Passchendaele, 167.
23. J. E. Edmonds, Official History of the War, Military Operations,
France and Belgium, 1917 (London: Macmillian, 1948), 2:iv.
24. For a more complete and controversial look at Cambrai plan-
ning see Harris, Men Ideas and Tanks.
25. Harris, Men Ideas and Tanks, 125.
26. Terraine, Haig, 379.
27. Prior and Wilson, Passchendaele, 155.
28. Blake, Papers, Robertson to Haig December 6, 1917.

Chapter 6
1. David Woodward, Lloyd George and the Generals (Newark:
University of Delaware Press, 1983), 221.
2. Terraine, Haig, 385, Derby to Haig, December 7, 1917.
3. De Groot, Haig, 354, Haig to Derby, December 10, 1917.
4. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, January 12, 1918.
5. Woodward, Lloyd George, 236, Lloyd George to Esher, December
1, 1917. It is important to note that while Lloyd George did use
manpower as a tool of control, recent research suggests that the
defeats suffered by the British in the coming German offensive
were not due to Lloyd George starving the military of strength.
For a detailed account of the controversy see Woodward, Lloyd
George, chapters 10 and 11.
6. De Groot, Haig, 363.
7. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entries, February 10 and 11, 1918.
8. De Groot, Haig, 368, Haig diary entry, March 10, 1918.
 notes 125

9. Woodward, Lloyd George, 278.

10. Terraine, Haig, 391, 400.
11. Ibid., 396.
12. De Groot, Haig, 367.
13. Terraine, Haig, 409, Instructions to the Fifth Army, February 9,
1918.
14. Blake, Papers, 290, Haig to Lady Haig, February 28, 1918.
15. Woodward, Lloyd George, 285.
16. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entries, March 23 and 24, 1918.
17. Ibid., 298, Haig diary entry, March 26, 1918.
18. For the operational weaknesses of the German system of attack
in 1918 see Sheffield, Forgotten Victory, 230–231.
19. Terraine, Haig, 432–433.
20. De Groot, Haig, 379.
21. Blake, Papers, 308, Haig to Lady Haig, May 7, 1918.
22. Prior and Wilson, Command, 305.
23. Ibid., 306–314.
24. J. P. Harris, Amiens to the Armistice: The BEF in the Hundred
Days’ Campaign, 8 August-11 November, 1918 (London:
Brassey’s, 1998); 103–107.
25. Blake, Papers, 322, Haig diary entry, August 8, 1918.
26. Ibid., Haig diary entry, August 14, 1918.
27. Prior and Wilson, Command, 320.
28. Harris, Amiens to the Armistice, 145, Haig to Army Commanders,
August 22, 1918.
29. Ibid., 167.
30. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, August 29, 1918.
31. Woodward, Lloyd George, 333.
32. Prior and Wilson, Command, 369–374; Harris, Amiens to the
Armistice, 218–225.
33. Ibid., 333–334, Haig diary entry, October 19, 1918.
34. De Groot, Haig, 394, Haig to Lady Haig, November 1, 1918.
35. Harris, Amiens to the Armistice, 295.
36. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, November 11, 1918.
37. De Groot, Haig, Haig to Lady Haig, November 9, 1918.

Chapter 7
1. De Groot, Haig, 397.
2. Blake, Papers, Haig diary entry, November 30, 1918.
126 notes

3. Ibid., Haig diary entry, December 19, 1918.

4. Ibid., Haig diary entry, November 19, 1918.
5. De Groot, Haig, 399–400.
6. Terraine, Haig, 483–484.
7. Niall Barr and Gary Sheffield, “Douglas Haig, the Common
Soldier, and the British Legion,” in Bond, Haig, 229–230.
8. Todman, “Sans peur et sans reproche,” 1095.
9. Barr and Sheffield, “Douglas Haig, the Common Soldier, and
the British Legion,” 232.
10. De Groot, Haig, 406. Haig, though, took an indirect role in the
debate by aiding in Boraston and Dewar’s publication of his
Dispatches.
11. Ibid., 404.
12. Todman, “Sans peur et sans reproche,” 1088.
 Bibliographic Note

S ource material regarding Haig and his role in

the Great War is abundant and ranges from a myriad of impor-
tant secondary works to plentiful archival sources located across
the United Kingdom. Any serious research into Haig’s career,
though, must start with the use of his voluminous diary and per-
sonal papers located in the National Library of Scotland and
copied in the British National Archives (formerly known as the
Public Record Office) in Kew. Further evidence can be found in
the massive collection of War Office documents in the National
Archives and in the papers of his subordinates and colleagues,
including those of General Sir Henry Rawlinson at the
Churchill College Archives in Cambridge and those of both
General Sir Launcelot Kiggell and Field Marshal Sir William
Robertson at the Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives in
London. Though the present study relies on extensive research
in these and several other collections, footnotes were kept to a
minimum for the sake of readability. The study is meant to serve
as an introduction to the field and to the man, rather than as an
exhaustive new archival biography. It is the author’s hope that
this volume will whet the appetite of a new audience, introduc-
ing them to the oft-ignored gold mine that is the present histo-
ry of the Great War.
There are several important books on Haig, ranging from ha-
giographic biographies written by contemporaries to quite
damning more recent accounts of his career. The following list is
by no means complete, but again serves as an introduction to the
ongoing argument concerning Haig’s tenure as commander in
128 bibliographic note

chief of the BEF. A most valuable source is Robert Blake’s edited

version of Haig’s diaries and papers, The Private Papers of Dou-
glas Haig, 1914–1919. (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1952).
Though of great importance to understanding the topic, Blake’s
work leaves much to be desired. At present Dr. Gary Sheffield is
working on a new and fuller edited version of Haig’s papers,
which will prove to be a critical resource. John Charteris’s Field-
Marshal Earl Haig (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1929)
and George Dewar’s Sir Douglas Haig’s Command (Boston:
Houghton Mifflin, 1923) are good starting points for a sympa-
thetic view of Haig in the immediate postwar period.
Recently the traditionalist school of thought has been repre-
sented by Denis Winter, Haig’s Command: A Reassessment (New
York: Viking, 1991), a deeply flawed volume that takes Haig to
task on a myriad of issues, and Gerard J. De Groot’s valuable and
well-researched Douglas Haig, 1861–1928 (London: Unwin Hy-
man, 1989). The revisionist school of thought was in many ways
founded in John Terraine’s landmark Douglas Haig: The Edu-
cated Soldier (London: Hutchinson, 1963). As arguments about
Haig have continued, more recent compilations have appeared
that serve to put the historical debate into a truly modern con-
text, including Brian Bond and Nigel Cave’s Haig: A Reappraisal
70 Years On (London: Leo Cooper, 1999).
Haig also features as a central figure in most of the broader ac-
counts of the Great War. In the past thirty years the historiogra-
phy of World War I has flowered and come of age as the
arguments about the nature of the war continue. Though there
are far too many books on the subject to list here, what follows
is a good starting point for further research. Tim Travers’s The
Killing Ground (London: Unwin Hyman, 1987), and How the
War Was Won (New York: Routledge, 1992) are important to un-
derstanding how Haig’s military training interacted with the re-
ality of the Great War. Shelford Bidwell and Dominick Graham’s
Fire-Power: British Army Weapons and Theories of War, 1904‒1945
(Boston: Allen & Unwin, 1982), is an unsurpassed survey of the
use of firepower in World War I. Robin Prior and Trevor Wil-
 bibliographic note 129

son’s Command on the Western Front (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992),

chronicles the career of General Sir Henry Rawlinson and also
serves as a very important documentation of the BEF’s ongoing
learning curve. Finally, two of the more valuable general works
that put the revisionist views of the Great War into perspective
are Gary Sheffield’s Forgotten Victory: The First World War: Myths
and Realities (London: Headline, 2001), and Paddy Griffith,
Battle Tactics of the Western Front: The British Army’s Art of Attack,
1916–1918 (New Haven: Yale, 1994).
There are several books on more specific subjects, ranging
from individual battles to accounts of political infighting, that
are important to a full understanding of Haig’s career. Many ac-
counts of the Somme exist and those interested in further read-
ing on the battle can begin their pursuit with Martin
Middlebrook, The First Day on the Somme (New York: Penguin,
1971); Gary Sheffield, The Somme (London: Cassell, 2003); Mal-
colm Brown, The Imperial War Museum Book of the Somme (Lon-
don: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1996); and Michael Chappell, The
Somme 1916: Crucible of a British Army (London: Crowood
Press, 1995). Relatively few books deal exclusively with the Third
Battle of Ypres. However, for further reading and inquiry see
Leon Wolff, In Flanders Fields (London: Longmans, 1960); An-
drew Wiest, Passchendaele and the Royal Navy (Westport: Green-
wood, 1995); Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson, Passchendaele: The
Untold Story (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1996); Peter H.
Liddle, ed., Passchendaele in Perspective (London: Leo Cooper,
1997); and Nigel Steel and Peter Hart, Passchendaele: The Sacri-
ficial Ground (London: Cassell, 2002). For reading on the Ger-
man offensives of 1918 and German methods of attack see
Martin Middlebrook, The Kaiser’s Battle, 21 March 1918: The
First Day of the German Spring Offensive (London: Allen Lane,
1978); B. I. Gudmunsson, Stormtroop Tactics: Innovation in the
German Army, 1914–1918 (New York: Praeger, 1989); and Hol-
ger Herwig, The First World War: Germany and Austria-Hungary,
1914–1918 (London: Arnold, 1997). For treatments of the
Amiens Offensive and British actions during the “Hundred
130 bibliographic note

Days,” see J. P. Harris, Amiens to the Armistice: The BEF in the

Hundred Days’ Campaign, 8 August–11 November, 1918 (Lon-
don: Brassey’s, 1998); and John Terraine, To Win a War: 1918 the
Year of Victory (London: Sidgewick and Jackson, 1978).
Finally, there also exists a multitude of books regarding the
political turmoil surrounding the course of the war. The most
important primary sources include: David Lloyd George, War
Memoirs (London: Odhams, 1938); Sir William Robertson, Sol-
diers and Statesmen (London: Cassell, 1926); Lord Beaverbrook,
Men and Power (London: Hutchinson, 1956); Winston
Churchill, The World Crisis (London: Thornton, 1924); and The
Earl of Oxford and Asquith, Memories and Reflections (London:
Cassell, 1928). Important secondary sources on the matter in-
clude: David Woodward, Lloyd George and the Generals (Newark:
University of Delaware Press, 1983); Bentley Gilbert, David
Lloyd George (Columbus: Ohio State University, 1987); and
Trevor Wilson, The Myriad Faces of War (Cambridge: Polity
Press, 1986).
 Index

Albert, Battle of, 105–106 of, 7–8; expectations in

Allenby, General Sir Edmund, 70 1916, 65; inexperienced
Amiens, Battle of, 62, 100–104; commanders of, 41–42; les-
artillery advances and, sons from Neuve Chapelle
101–102; Haig and Rawlin- and Loos, 39; lessons from
son’s planning of, 100–101; the Battle of the Somme,
Haig’s decision to halt, 104; 70; morale of, 41;
question of collapse of Ger- proficiency of, 73, 82, 101,
man morale, 104–105. See 108, 110, 117; proposed role
also Ludendorff, General upon the outbreak of war,
Erich 9, 13–15; role in mobile
Arras, Battle of, 68–71, 74, phase of World War I,
76–77, 82; artillery plan, 16–19; size of, 40–41; train-
70; casualties, 71 ing of, 10, 41
Asquith, Herbert, 12; and the British Legion, 115–16
Belgian coast, 67; and plan- Broodseinde, Battle of, 79
ning for World War I, 13 Butler, General R. H. K., 42
Aubers Ridge, Battle of, 33–34 Byng, General Sir Julian, 83–84,
Australia/New Zealand Army 105
Corps (ANZAC), 78,
100–101, 106 Calais Conference, 68–69
Cambrai, Battle of, 62, 83–85; ar-
Balfour, Arthur, 66 tillery tactics at, 84;
Blackadder Goes Forth, xii German counterattack at,
Boer War, 5, 16; effects on British 85; Haig’s decision to con-
military policy, 7 tinue, 85; tanks at, 83–85
British Expeditionary Force Canadian Corps, 82, 100, 104,
(BEF), xi, xiii–xiv; and ca- 106–107
sualties of 1914, 22; creation Chantilly Conference, 46
132 index
Chaplin, Charlie, ix Esher, Lord, 90
Charteris, Brigadier General Express, xii
John, 20; and the Battle of
the Somme, 59; and over- Falkenhayen, General Erich von,
optimistic reports, 42–43, 20–21, 33, 47, 57, 62–63, 79
47–48, 79, 87; removal of, Ferdinand, Archduke Francis, 13
89 Festubert, Battle of, 34
Churchill, Winston, 114; and the Foch, General Ferdinand, 90,
development of the tank, 97–98, 100, 104, 109, 112
60; funeral, xi, 117 Fraser, Lovat, 63
Clemenceau, Georges, 97 French, General Sir John, 33–34,
communications, ix, 24–25, 45, 113; and the Boer War, 5;
29–30, 39, 52–54, 70, 84, and importance of the Bel-
104 gian coast, 26; morale of,
Cox, Brigadier General E. W., 90 17, 19; relationship with
creeping barrage, 52 Field Marshal Sir Horatio
Cult of the Offensive, 9 Kitchener, 15, 17, 26, 35, 38;
Curragh Mutiny, 12 removal from command of
Currie, General Sir Arthur, 104, the BEF, 38–39; and shell
106 shortage, 35; use of reserves
Curzon, Lord, 73 at Loos, 36–37; and war
planning, 14. See also Haig,
Dardanelles, 26, 60 Field Marshal Sir Douglas
Davidson, Major General J. H., Fuller, Colonel J. F. C., 83
42
De Groot, Gerard, 42 George, David Lloyd, 10, 93, 97,
Derby, Lord, 89, 91 99, 107, 109; criticism of
Doullens Conference, 96–97 Third Ypres, 85–86; and de-
Duncan, Reverend Dr. George, sire to wait for American
42 forces, 100; and Easterner-
Westerner Debate, 26, 67;
Easterner-Westerner Debate, 26, efforts to reduce the power
67 of Haig and Robertson,
Edmonds, Sir James, 76 88–91; and fall of
Edward VII, King, 6 Robertson, 91–92; and first
El Alamein, Battle of, xiii use of the tank, 61; and
Elandslaagte, Battle of, 5 planning for Third Ypres,
Elles, General Hugh, 83 73–75. See also Haig, Field
Entente Cordiale, 13 Marshal Sir Douglas
Esher Committee, 7 George V, King, 6; and relation-
 index 133
ship between Haig and cers and men, 113–14; and
French, 16, 35, 38 German offensives of 1918,
Gilbert, Bentley, xv 95–100; historical debate
Givenchy, Battle of, 34 concerning, xi–xiv, 4, 6, 21,
Gough, General Sir Hubert, 79, 25–26, 62, 117; on inexperi-
81–82, 94; conduct of first ence of the BEF, 41;
phase of Third Ypres, involvement in the Haldane
76–78; defensive reforms, 7–8; lessons drawn
preparations in 1918, 95–96; from Neuve Chapelle,
and planning for Third 32–33; and makeup of his
Ypres, 72, 75–76; removal General Headquarters, 42;
from command, 97. See also manpower crisis, 86–87,
Ypres, Third Battle of 90–91, 93, 94, 99; marriage,
Griffith, Paddy, xi, xv, 39 6–7; military thinking be-
fore World War I, 8–10,
Haig, Field Marshal Sir Douglas: 14–15; military training of,
accepts peerage, 113–14; 4–5, 25; and operational
Aldershot Command, 10; level of war, 104, 110;
assumes command of the personal traits, xii, 10, 62;
BEF, 39; attitude toward the and planning for the
French, 17–18, 21, 36, Somme, 47–51; poor com-
45–46, 54–55; belief in im- munication ability, 4, 10;
portance of the western public perception of, xii,
front, 26, 44, 46, 67; and 115–17; relationship with
bite and hold attacks, army commanders, 44; rela-
34–36, 46, 58, 71–74, 76, 78; tionship with French, 5,
Boer War experience, 5; and 15–16, 35, 38–39; relation-
breakthrough attacks, ship with Kitchener, 6, 16,
32–33, 47–49, 59, 71–72, 76, 35, 38–39; relationship with
79, 105; charge of being a Lloyd George, 67–69, 107,
Chateau General, 43; as 112–13; relationship with
Chief of the General Staff Robertson, 44–45, 73–74,
in India, 8–9; childhood, 3; 91–92; and religion, 43, 95;
command style of, 75, 101, role in British Legion,
110; death and funeral, xi, 115–16; role in creation of a
116–17; defensive scheme in unified command, 96–97;
1918, 93–95; and role in Irish crisis, 12–13;
demobilization, 114; diary, role in planning Neuve
xiii, 6; education, 3–4; Chapelle, 27–28; and role of
efforts to aid disabled offi- the BEF in war, 9, 13–15;
134 index
and role of the cavalry, 5, 9, planning, 46–47; and the
49, 57, 59, 61, 79; and shell Somme, 54–55, 59;
shortage, 33; statue of, xii; suspicions regarding British
and strategic importance of intentions, 19
the Belgian coast, 14, 19, 26,
46–47, 67, 71, 74, 81; sup- Kiggell, General Launcelot, 42,
port for and use of the tank, 45, 83, 116; and Third Ypres,
60–62, 83–85; and technol- 72, 75, 77; removal of, 90
ogy, 60; use of reserves at Kitchener Army, 22, 36, 41
Loos, 36–37; views on the Kitchener, Field Marshal Sir Ho-
armistice and peace treaty, ratio, 6, 41–42, 45; and rais-
109, 111; welcome home af- ing of a volunteer army, 15;
ter the war, 113. reduction in powers of,
Haig, Henrietta, 3–4 38–39; relationship with
Haig, John, 3 French, 15, 17, 26, 35, 38;
Haig, Rachel, 3 and shell shortage, 35. See
Haldane, Richard, 10, 14; and also Haig, Field Marshal Sir
reformation of the British Douglas
military, 7–8 Kluck, General Alexander von,
Hankey, Sir Maurice, 68–69 17
Hindenburg, General Paul von,
63 Laffin, John, x
Hindenburg Line, 64, 69, 106; Lawrence, General Sir Herbert,
assault on in 1918, 108, 110 90
Horne, General Sir Henry, 70 Le Cateau, Battle of, 17
Hundred Days, casualties during, Le Hamel, Battle of, 100–101
110 Lee, General Robert E., 24
Loos, Battle of, 35–37, 39, 48–49;
Imperial General Staff, creation possibility of breakthrough
of, 8 at, 37; use of reserves at,
Indian Corps, 9, 26; and Neuve 36–37
Chapelle, 29–30 Ludendorff, General Erich, 33,
Ireland, and the outbreak of 63, 105, 108, 110; and
World War I, 12–13 Amiens, 102; and results of
the Battle of the Somme, 64
Jellicoe, Admiral Sir John, 71, 89;
role in decision to approve Marne, First Battle of, 19
Third Ypres, 74–75 Maurice, General Sir Frederick,
Joffre, General Joseph, 16–19, 27, 99
33, 35, 68; and 1916 Menin Road, Battle of, 78
 index 135
Messines, Battle of, 72–73, Plan 17, 13, 16, 18
76–77, 82–83 Plumer, General Sir Herbert, 75;
Meuse-Argonne offensive, 107 and Messines, 72–73; and
Milner, Lord, 73, 86, 107 Third Ypres, 78–81. See also
Moltke, General Helmuth von, Ypres, Third Battle of
16 Poelcappelle, Battle of, 81
Monash, General Sir John, 106, Polygon Wood, Battle of, 79
108 Prior, Robin, xiv, 86, 101, 104
Mons, Battle of, 10, 14, 17; and
retreat from, 17–18 Rawlinson, General Sir Henry,
Montgomery, Field Marshal Sir 33, 42, 92, 101, 104–105; and
Bernard, xiii assault on the Hindenburg
Line in 1918, 108; and com-
Neuve Chapelle, Battle of, 27–33, munications difficulties at
36–37, 39, 48–50; artillery Neuve Chapelle, 29–30; les-
role in, 28, 30; casualties, sons from Neuve Chapelle,
30; communications 32; and planning for Loos,
difficulties, 29–30; lessons 36; and planning for Neuve
of, 32–33; possibility of Chapelle, 27–28; and plan-
breakthrough at, 29–30; use ning for the initial attack at
of reserves at, 29–30. See the Somme, 47–51; and
also Haig, Field Marshal Sir planning for the second
Douglas; Rawlinson, Gen- major attack at the Somme,
eral Sir Henry 55–56; and planning for the
News Chronicle, 83 third major attack at the
Nivelle, General Robert, 68–71; Somme, 59–60. See also
Lloyd George’s support of, Amiens, Battle of
68 Repington, Charles, 35
Nivelle Offensive, 71 Roberts, Lord, 6
Robertson, General Sir William,
Ottoman Empire, 26, 33 38–39, 67–69, 85–86; efforts
by Lloyd George to remove,
Passchendaele. See Ypres, Third 88–89, 91; fall of, 91–92;
Battle of and planning for Third
Passchendaele, First Battle of, 81 Ypres, 73–74; relationship
Passchendaele, Second Battle of, with Haig, 44–45, 73–74,
82 91–92
Petain, General Philippe, 71, Royal Flying Corps, 60, 84
92–93; and use of reserves Royal Military College
in 1918, 96–97 Sandhurst, 4
136 index
Royal Navy, and Belgian coast, Staff College, 4–5, 46
19, 46, 74–75 stormtroop tactics, German use
of, 95
Sambre, Battle of, 109 submarine war, 66–67, 71, 74
Schlieffen Plan, 13, 16 Sudan, 5
Selle, Battle of, 109 Supreme War Council, 89, 91–92
Sheffield, Gary, xi, xv, 54, 64 Swinton, Colonel E. D., 60–61
shell scandal, 35
Smith-Dorrien, General Horace, tank: and Cambrai, 83–85; devel-
17, 33 opment of, 60; first use of,
Smuts, General Jan Christian, 73, 61; Haig’s support of, 62
86 Terraine, John, xi, xiii, xv, 42, 90
Somme, Battle of, 43–44, 47–66, territorial divisions, 14; creation
70, 77, 82, 88, 101, 106, 117; of, 7; decision against use
artillery preparation at, of, 15
50–52, 55–56; casualties, Travers, Tim, 5, 44, 75
54–55, 58–59, 63; communi-
cations in, 52–54, 56; effect Verdun, Battle of, 47, 49, 54, 57,
on German defensive 63, 68
scheme, 63; first day of, Vietnam, x
51–53; German defensive Vimy Ridge, 34
tactics at, 57; governmental Vivian, Dorothy, 6
decision to continue, 58;
Haig’s decision to continue, War Book Boom, 116
62; Haig’s optimism regard- War Policy Committee, and
ing, 59; infantry tactics at, planning for Third Ypres,
50, 55–56; perception of, 73–75
63–65; planning for initial Wilhelm II, Kaiser, 13, 105, 108,
attack, 47–51; planning for 110
second major attack at, Wilson, General Henry, 89,
55–56; planning for third 91–93, 106, 112; and initial
major attack at, 59–60; sec- war planning, 14
ond major attack at, 56–57; Wilson, Trevor, xiv, 86, 101, 104
tank use at, 60–62; third Winter, Denis, xiii
major attack at, 61. See also Woodward, David, 89
Charteris, Brigadier General World War I: American involve-
John; Haig, Field Marshal ment, ix, xii; attritional na-
Sir Douglas; Joffre, General ture of, 47, 58; British
Joseph perception of, x; compared
 index 137
to World War II, ix; defen- Ypres, Third Battle of, 43–44,
sive nature of, 18, 23–25, 32, 71–83, 86, 99, 106, 117;
81, 101, 104; as first total artillery bombardment at,
war, 10–11, 25; 76, 77, 78; casualties, 77,
historiographical debate 82; genesis of, 46–47; Ger-
concerning, x–xiv; initial man defenses at, 72, 75, 77,
offensive actions in, 16–19; 79; Gough replaced in com-
lack of communications in, mand of, 78; Haig and
24–25, 29–30, 52–54, 56, 70, Gough’s planning of at cross
84, 104; outbreak of, 12–14; purposes, 75–77; Haig’s de-
strengths and weaknesses of cision to continue, 81;
weaponry in, 23–25, 30, 50, Haig’s performance at,
56, 101–102, 108; and the 82–83; Haig’s plan for,
use of cavalry, 5–6. See also 71–74; impact on Haig’s
French, Field Marshal Sir place in history, 83; Plumer
John; Haig, Field Marshal and bite and hold attacks
Sir Douglas at, 78–81; results of, 82. See
World War II, ix–x, 117 also George, David Lloyd;
Jellicoe, Admiral Sir John;
Ypres, First Battle of, 10, 20–22, Robertson, General Sir
79 William; War Policy Com-
Ypres, Second Battle of, 33 mittee
 About the Author

Andrew A. Wiest is a Professor of History at the University of

Southern Mississippi and a former visiting lecturer at the Royal
Military Academy, Sandhurst. He co-directs the university’s
Center for the Study of War and Society and developed and co-
directs the university’s award-winning Vietnam study abroad
program. Presently engaged in research concerning the Vietnam
War, his previous published works include Passchendaele and the
Royal Navy (Greenwood, 1995); War in the Age of Technology, co-
edited with Geoffrey Jensen (New York University Press, 2001);
and The Vietnam War, 1956–1975 (Osprey, 2002). The author’s
burgeoning family includes his wife Jill, his two-year-old daugh-
ter Abigail, and his new son Luke.
MILITARY PROFILES
AVAILABLE
Farragut: America’s First Admiral
Robert J. Schneller, Jr.
Drake: For God, Queen, and Plunder
Wade G. Dudley
Santa Anna: A Curse Upon Mexico
Robert L. Scheina
Eisenhower: Soldier-Statesman of the American Century
Douglas Kinnard
Semmes: Rebel Raider
John M. Taylor
Doolittle: Aerospace Visionary
Dik Alan Daso
Foch: Supreme Allied Commander in the Great War
Michael S. Neiberg
Villa: Soldier of the Mexican Revolution
Robert L. Scheina
Cushing: Civil War SEAL
Robert J. Schneller, Jr.
Alexander the Great: Invincible King of Macedonia
Peter G. Tsouras
Hindenburg: Icon of German Militarism
William J. Astore and Dennis E. Showalter
Franco: Soldier, Commander, Dictator
Geoffrey Jensen
Forrest: The Confederacy’s Relentless Warrior
Robert M. Browning, Jr.
Meade: Victor of Gettysburg
Richard A. Sauers
MILITARY PROFILES
FORTHCOMING
Halsey
Robert J. Cressman
Tirpitz
Michael Epkenhans
Petain
Robert B. Bruce
Winfield Scott
Samuel Watson
Benedict Arnold
Mark Hayes
Painting of Sir Douglas Haig. Courtesy of Mary Evans Picture Library
Portrait of Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig on horseback. Courtesy of
the National Archives and Records Administration
Lt. Gen. Sir Henry Rawlinson, architect of Neuve Chapelle, the
Somme and much of the Hundred Days. Courtesy of the National
Archives and Records Administration
The tortured remains of the once beautiful city of Ypres, site of three
major battles in the Great War, in November 1916. Courtesy of the
National Archives and Records Administration
Mud and desolation during the latter phases of the Battle of the
Somme. Though Passchendaele became synonymous with bottomless
mud, the Somme also at times became nearly impassable. Courtesy of
the National Archives and Records Administration
Early British tank stuck in a trench. Tanks were not yet the war-winning weapons
that they would become in World War II. The slow speed and mechanical
unreliability of the tank, in tandem with the fact that tank tactics were in their
infancy, left the Great War controlled in the main by artillery and the machine
gun. Courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration
The trail of mud and desolation near Broodseinde in November 1917
during the Third Battle of Ypres. It was this third phase of the battle
that gave Passchendaele its reputation for horror and futility.
Courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration
Three of Haig’s top subordinates, left to right, General Sir Herbert
Plumer, the victor of Messines and the architect of the second phase of
the Third Battle of Ypres; General Sir Edmund Allenby, who
commanded the Third Army at the Battle of Arras; and General Sir
Henry Horne, who commanded the First Army during Arras. Courtesy
of the National Archives and Records Administration
Cartoon from the cover of the April 14, 1918, issue of the German
magazine Kladderadatsch depicting Hindenburg thrashing Haig
during the German offensive. The German celebration, though, was
premature as both Haig and the BEF would survive to play the
greatest role in the defeat of the German army in 1918. Courtesy of
Mary Evans Picture Library
The Menin Gate in Ypres, on which are carved the names of the
54,896 officers and men of the commonwealth forces who died in
the Ypres Salient area and who have no known graves. Courtesy of
Kathy Barbier
The Thiepval Memorial, which contains the names of 73,357 British
and South African men who have no known grave and who fell on the
Somme between July 1916 and March 1918. Courtesy of Andrew Wiest
Headstone to fallen members of the Newfoundland Regiment
and the Border Regiment at Y Ravine Cemetery on the Somme.
Note that two soldiers were often marked on the same headstone
with their unit badges as carved at the top. British and
commonwealth families were able to add personalized final
messages to their fallen loved ones, as Lance Corporal Pike’s did.
It reads “Be ashamed to die until you have gained some victory
for humanity.” Courtesy of Terry Whittington
British cemetery on the Somme. Courtesy of Andrew Wiest
Remains of the British frontline trench at Beaumont Hamel. Courtesy
of Terry Whittington
Remains of a British trench near Ypres. Courtesy of Kathy Barbier
 The Cenotaph in
Whitehall, London.
The monument to
Britain’s World War I
dead. Courtesy of
Jill Wiest

Haig’s statue, a block

away and directly facing
the Cenotaph in
Whitehall, London.
Some have suggested
that the statue be
removed due to its
proximity to the Ceno-
taph. Courtesy of
Andrew Wiest