On the basis of many accounts we might be forgiven for thinking that the trench war of 1914–18 was the war in which nothing of significance, bar death and destruction, ever happened – as the original German title of All Quiet on the Western Front put it, Nothing New in the West. Bloody as the Western Front was, however, this is but the most superficial of interpretations. For in the first place trenches were dug specifically as refuges against the worst that modern war could deliver, and as a way to economize on troops, some of whom could now be freed to be used elsewhere. Given the population growth of the 19th century, and the fact that the trench lines soon reached from Switzerland to the sea, there was, unfortunately, in the West at least, no ‘elsewhere’.
Nevertheless this was very far from the whole story, for as Lieutenant Charles Carrington of the Royal Warwickshires observed, the lines were only ‘rigid’ during 1915 and 1916: ‘during 1917 bomb fighting in the trenches gave way to shell hole warfare, and in 1918 to open fighting’1 – in which tanks and cavalry played a part. It was also the case that technological and tactical virtuosity led, fairly quickly, to a wide range of new weapons and techniques that eventually culminated not only in breakthroughs but in a revolution in the way that war was fought. The revival of the grenade, the transformation of the artillery, the inventions of new shells and fuses, the rapid development and use of observation, fighting and bombing aircraft, the first use of the flame-thrower and the start of modern chemical warfare were just the most obvious manifestations of this revolution. For there were many other, more subtle, developments, which were also crucial. One of these was the transformation of the trench itself.
The first trenches of August 1914 were usually just that – one long ditch, with only minor embellishments, in which a unit stood, more or less as it might have done on the open battlefield. By early 1915 trenches had become ‘systems’, with reserve lines, bunkers, posts for specialists and a growing culture of a sort of existence alien not only to the civilian but also to the pre-war soldier. Men now rotated in and out of the various lines in a long and exhausting ballet of movements, enjoying the dubious experience of the front line trench for only a small minority of the time they spent at or near the Western Front.
Poppies on the rolling battlefield of Le Cateau. (Author’s collection)
By the end of that year it was usual for there to be two or more systems forming the defence, and there was an awareness that as far as possible trench garrisons should be kept small. By 1916 it was clear that machine weapons were key to holding the trench with economy and that concrete and individual posts within zones was the way forward. So it was that by 1917 linear defence was gradually on the wane.
The Ossuary, Verdun. Built between 1922 and 1932 the basement of the building contains the skeletal remains of 130,000 dead – some of which may still be viewed through ground-level portholes. Another 15,000 identified bodies are in the adjoining cemetery. The building also contains 18 chapels for different parts of France, and other areas for Allied nations. Its solid eclectic design is part fort, part cathedral. (Author’s collection)
Human organization also changed. Where once battalions and companies had been the clear units of attack, and the rifle, used mainly by men in lines, had been backed only by a couple of fairly static and heavy machine guns, the tactical focus was pulled ever tighter. The infantry battalion soon included grenades of many types, new machine guns and snipers, catapults and light mortars. The Engineers adopted gas, flame and other examples of frightfulness. By 1917 the platoon was considered vital. Eventually the squad and the individual were accounted worthwhile – the tank crew, the machine gun team, and other groups which were small enough either to be placed in one vehicle, or to hide together in a shell hole or bunker on the ‘empty battlefield’. For some this was the start of a new age, when, as Ernst Jünger put it, ‘the spirit of the machine took possession’ of the battlefield, and new types of leader were born.2
All wars end; even this war will some day end, and the ruins will be rebuilt and the field full of death will grow food, and all this frontier of trouble will be forgotten. When the trenches are filled in, and the plough has gone over them, the ground will not long keep the look of war. One summer with its flowers will cover most of the ruin that man can make, and then these places, from which the driving back of the enemy began, will be hard to trace, even with maps.
John Masefield, 19173