Verdun 105 (8): The Price of Glory

It was with excited anticipation that I began reading Horne’s account of Verdun. This, original English-language account of the 8–10 month battle, was the third that I have read simply because of the order in which I had books available. I expected that it would be a case of “best for last”, not to belittle the excellent and valuable works of Kaufmann and Kaufmann and Buckingham, but Horne’s version comes highly recommended. In fact, the authors of the other books state the influence of Horne’s work and how much they admire it. I now realise that Buckingham’s “Verdun 1916” is effectively an expanded version of “The Price of Glory”, thus paying ultimate homage and respect to this classic book.

Indeed, ‘classic’ is the best description of "The Price of Glory". It is a riveting, moving and evocative account, that transports you to the horror, unimaginable suffering and unfathomable waste that was Verdun.

Horne begins with the importance of Verdun, touching on its ancient heritage, but particularly the experience of the Franco-Prussian war. This military disaster set French strategy and military thinking for the coming conflict that seemed only a matter of time, and indeed was desired by those seeking ‘revanche’. He contrasts the French approach with that of the Germans. The chapter concludes with the story of the sycophantic generals around the Kaiser who ensured that he won during wargames “…with a magnificent encirclement of the enemy”, thus adding to the perception of this as superior strategy.

We move quickly to the eve of Verdun. After the failed and costly attacks of 1915, Joffre called a conference at which “..it was agreed that 1915 should be repeated, but this time on a far bigger scale, with the British and French efforts linked, astride the Somme. The plan was a simple and unimaginative one, which appealed to the mind of Haig, the new British commander” (p. 29). Horne’s assessment of the senior commanders is none too complementary. Joffre and Falkenhayn (and by comparison Haig). All three had neither studied military history nor strategy. Joffre is painted as being of particularly simple intellect, jealous of his power, but unflappable. ”To sum up on Joffre, it might be said that the war was very nearly lost with him, but that it would almost certainly have been lost without him” (p. 24). Like Haig, Joffre did not want to visit troops as he did not want to be confronted by casualties, saying that if he did he could not order the attacks. Falkenhayn, Horne tells us, was even less moved by casualty lists than Joffre or Haig.

Falkenhayn; the enigma. Horne dedicates a chapter to the German chief of general staff. He emerges as a mixture of detached aloofness, cautiousness and ruthlessness. Falkenhayn was able to use his favoured position with the Kaiser and to work the latter as he needed to (Horne relates how the Kaiser did not wish to hear bad news from the front and so was only allowed to hear of episodes of trench heroics by his troops). In seeking approval for what became Operation Gericht, Falkenhayn was able to play to the Kaiser’s hatred of the English (derived from hatred of his English mother, blaming an English ‘quack’ for the death of his father and plans being obstructed by the Royal Navy), while focussing the attack on the major partner of the coalition, France. The details of the plan for the Verdun campaign, even down to the date of the meeting between Falkenhayn and the Kaiser, are uncertain and unknown. Falkenhayn’s true aims in devising the attack are mired in the lack of contemporary reports, minutes and memoranda, mixed with the later-written memoirs of the key participants. Horne’s account clearly demonstrates the confusion, often caused by Falkenhayn’s own words. It certainly seems that the capture of Verdun was not the intended outcome as the attack was limited to the east bank of the Meuse and “… at least one-third of the total available German reserves must be kept in hand to meet the relief counter-offensives the Allies were certain to launch…” (p. 39). Falkenhayn commented to General von Kuhl (Chief of Staff of the Sixth Army) that “…he hoped the expected Allied ripostes, when repulsed, would ‘bring movement into the war once again.’ When this was relayed to the Commander of the Sixth Army, Crown Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, he commented that ‘General von Falkenhayn was himself not clear as to what he really wanted, and was waiting for a stroke of luck that would lead to a favourable solution.’ Such was the confusion Falkenhayn created about his own intentions” (p. 39). Hardly a rock-solid plan for the great German offensive of 1916.

The early days of the offensive were particularly perilous for the French and Joffre (again) does not come out well. With his inflexible routine he was more interested in his reputation and especially food! He is painted by Horne as a most uninspiring and self-serving individual. When, on 23rd February the situation at Verdun was looking bleak and “…even after percolating the softening filters of G.Q.G (grand quartier general), the reports sounded bad…” (p. 125) Joffre did not proceed to the front to determine for himself, nor immediately send a representative, but it was at the initiative of de Castelnau that the latter sought to go to the front. While the true details are not known for sure, lost with key people who died and in the mists of later justification, it seems in keeping with character and reputation that Joffre remained at headquarters so as not to lose his “…legend of imperturbability, upon which so much had been built…” (p. 126).

By contrast, de Castelnau, Joffre’s right hand man, is one of the few senior commanders who is painted in a positive light; in fact, near-glowing terms when contrasted with his contemporaries! Horne tells us that he “…plunged into the work of re-animating the defence. …a transformation took place that was, by all accounts, miraculous” (p. 129). He determined that an effective defence could be mounted on the right bank (of the Meuse) as well as the left and, most importantly, placed General Pétain in command of forces on both sides of the river. In hindsight, as Horne notes, this played into the hands of Falkenhayn’s (purported) aim of ‘bleeding the French army white’, but it also averted defeat and prevented the shock to national morale that would have in all likelihood occurred if Verdun had been lost.

What of Pétain? Somewhat reminiscent of ‘unconditional surrender’ Grant, Pétain was on his way to obscurity but came to prominence in the cauldron of war (though of a different bent when it came to military theory and with a different personal vice). His rise was not through favour nor patronage, certainly nor from obsequiousness (in fact quite the opposite), but due to his actions and leadership. “…Pétain, unlike most of the other First War Commanders—and in opposition to de Castelnau, then his immediate superior—knew when to stop, instead of trying to redeem failure fruitlessly, and at terrible cost in lives. All the time Pétain was learning with a rapidity almost unique among his fellows, and with an adaptability rare for his age” (p. 137). [Chalk one up for advancement by merit as opposed to ‘born to rule’ or, worse still, time in the seat!] We hear that while Pétain was formal and somewhat aloof with his fellow officers he showed genuine interest in the welfare of the men “…he knew—unlike Haig or Joffre—very well what wounded men looked like” (p. 139), yet “… this uniquely humanitarian general would be called upon to subject the men under his command to what was shortly to become the most inhuman conflict of the whole war” (p. 141). I am left with the impression of a complex character with genuine, positive traits and real, human flaws. It is not often that one finds humour in accounts of the First World War, but Horne’s retelling of Pétain’s chief of staff seeking out his master, at a Paris hotel, to alert him of his summons to Joffre’s headquarters to be appointed to command at Verdun had me laughing heartily and aloud.

The book is not all about the ‘key men’. In a clever literary effect Horne uses the time between the original, planned German offensive and the first day of Verdun to tell us about the troops in the frontlines and the conditions in the trenches and stollen. Surprisingly, he writes, that it was the French who had the greatest hierarchy between men and officers, which was accentuated when sergeants and adjutants replaced the fallen officers following the bloody battles of 1914. There was, writes Horne, an ‘acceptance’ of the conditions. “For every individual who tortured himself trying to think out a reason for life under these conditions, there were ten who dumbly, helplessly and unreflectingly accepted it as it was. … Physically and morally, both the French and the Germans had become toughened to the act of acceptance…  Like steep that has been hard and tensile, but not yet brittle, no longer the green enthusiasts of 1914, nor yet the battle-weary veterans of 1917–18. Verdun was to be the watershed; beyond it neither army would be quite the same again” (pp. 67–68).

Horne’s account of the battle is detailed, describing the developments initially a day at a time, then in terms of each major development. In each case we are taken ‘into the trenches’ with the action and decisions of the company, battalion and divisional commanders. He is a master story-teller who writes vivid prose, as this summary of the first day of the battle will help to illustrate:

“Throughout the line the first day of battle had been for the French one of minor disasters alternating with countless, unrecorded small Thermopylaes. Wherever the German flamethrowers made their hideous debut, panic had occurred; in the Bois d’Haumont, an officer and thirty-six men had surrendered to one flamethrower detachment alone. But, for the most part, the Thermopylaes had the day. The line had held” (p. 82).

Horne’s description of the capture of Fort Douaumont is a superb piece of story telling. Using the detailed account written by von Klüfer, commanding officer of the battalion of the 24th Brandenburgers involved in the capture, that was eventually published just prior to the Second World War, Horne takes us along with the German soldiers approaching the fort, drawn to it as if by an ‘irresistibly enticing’ force and then inside as the dramatic, and at times even comedic, drama unfolds. The chapter relating these remarkable events begins with the clearest and easiest-to-follow plan and description of the fort of the three accounts that I have read so far—not that the others did a bad job, it’s just that Horne’s is quite excellent.

By June the German 420 mm howitzers had exceeded the manufacturer’s specifications for the number of firings. Think about that for a while. They had fired so many shells, in four months, that they exceeded the life-time expectations of the manufacturer. Frightening. It is little wonder really when, for example, prior to the German attack that eventually captured Fort Vaux “…according to Raynal [the French commander of the garrison], shells were falling on the small area of the fort at the rate of 1 500 to 2 000 an hour” (p. 254). Furthermore, Horne tells us that the effectiveness of the 420 mm ‘Big Bertha’ howitzers was reduced as they had been losing the ‘David v Goliath’ battle with the smaller, French 155 mm guns. They “… were exceedingly vulnerable because of their inflexibility, the hugeness of their ammunition stockpiles, and their short range that forced them to come perilously close to the front. One by one they were knocked out… in June the Fifth Army possessed only four worn-out ‘Big Berthas’ out of the original thirteen of the previous February” (p. 248).

As the battle became a symbol of national pride and even, Horne suggests, virility, the lot of the combatants deteriorated further. “In man’s affairs no situation is more lethal than when an issue assumes the status of a symbol. … But, to the men actually engaged in it, a less noble form of symbolism was apparent. … the fighting reached a higher peak of brutality and desperation. The battle seemed to have somehow rid itself of all human direction and now continued through its own impetus. … In the diaries and journals of the time, on both sides, mention of the vileness of the enemy becomes more and more infrequent… The battle itself had become the abhorred enemy” (pp. 242–243).

There have been many last stands in the annals of military history. Each of them determined, heroic and eventually futile. The defence of Fort Vaux, in the early days of June 1916 is surely one of the more amazing. I have now read three accounts. Each of them has related the remarkable tale of fighting in the corridors of the fort, the struggle of a few against many, but none better than Horne’s (the first penned of the three).

The map of the Verdun battle is clear, and perfectly detailed for consideration of how one might reproduce it on a tabletop.

Horne’s account is complete. In addition to his moving retelling of the story of the battle, mid-way through he includes three chapters of ‘asides’. The first of these relates the impact on the men of the struggle to get supplies to the front, the constant bombardment, casualties incurred without ever seeing the enemy, the lot of the stretcher bearers.

“In one house pulverized by a shell all that remained was a bust of Napoleon, arms folded and facing north as if defying the Germans with its stony glare” (p. 192)

I have tried, unsuccessfully so far, to find a photo of this!

The situation of the battle is contrasted with the home front; another world in which life resumed and even continued unaffected by the war. “Yet, somehow the galleries were open again and doing a brisk trade, and publishers could not remember when they had sold so many books” (p. 194). Horne rounds out his ‘asides’ with a chapter about the air war and another about Crown Prince Wilhelm and why, such a seemingly powerful figure and one who opposed the continuation of the battle was powerless to influence his father; in fact to even get a hearing.

The completeness of the book is reflected well in the final chapters. Third-last of these describes the events from December 1916 to the armistice. The changes in French high command leading to the disastrous ‘Nivelle Offensive’ in which the French armies’ élan was “..raised to fresh heights by Nivelle’s repeated promises that the end of sufferings was close at hand” (p. 321). A false promise, like that to the German army in the initial offensive of Verdun and the British at the Somme, based on hopeful assumptions, trying the same trick twice, ignoring the reaction of the enemy and, worst of all, aimed at the enemy’s strongest point and with “security … even worse neglected than before the Doaumont fiasco the previous May…” (p. 322). The end result was mutiny. Horne takes us briefly through Pétain’s attempts to rebuild army morale, the lasting negative impact on the effectiveness of the French army until the final, co-ordinated ‘all arms’ push of mid-late 1918 and on to the final reoccupation of the Bois des Caures and “… French, American and German troops joined in celebrating the end of the war round a huge bonfire lit on the ‘High Battery’ at Damloup” (p. 325).

This could easily have been the final chapter of the book—and a fitting one it would be—but Horne further rounds out his sublime retelling of the tale with the Aftermath (the reaper’s harvest, post-Verdun careers of key actors, it’s importance in the events of May-June 1940 and a moving and objective retelling of Pétain’s role) followed by an Epilogue of Verdun today and its lasting meaning and message. Let us hope it is heeded and we are not left with the choice “…between Verdun and Dachau” (Jean Dutourd, quoted on page xvi).

Plates in the centre pages contain chiefly contemporary images of the key people involved of events and places

A fabulous photo of the voie sacrée and of an German locomotive

The Verdun 'moonscape'.

It is Horne’s prose that makes this book so good. His use of imaginary and simile, the incorporation of stories of individual combatants (many of whom died after only a short time) along with observations about and quotes from participants all weaved expertly into his retelling.  He informs the reader why things occurred, the emerging ‘strategy’, rather than solely telling us what occurred. Added to this are a couple of excellent maps that have sufficient detail and include all of the places mentioned in the text,and some, chiefly, period photographs of people and places.

The only negative for me, and it is a small one, is Horne’s tendency to attribute generic, popular sociology to the troops of each side and to their actions. Its those generalised, ‘national traits’ that were so popular in the 70s and that so often made their way into the description of troop factors in many of the rule-sets of the time. Human behaviour is far more nuanced and related to circumstance and a heap of other factors. A small one, as I said, and nothing that reduced my score!

This book’s reputation is well-deserved. Little wonder it is considered the 'best version in English’ and has remained in print since 1962, with only the slightest revision. While not easy reading, purely on account of the subject matter, it is one that I shall be returning to again and again.

I am giving it the maximum ten Napoleons—it deserves 11.

Rating

Reference

Horne, A (1993) The Price of Glory: Verdun 1916. First Published 1962. Penguin Press, London. Revised Edition edition. 372 pp.

Further reflections

That is the last of the overall histories of the Battle of Verdun that I plan to read. I will now switch my reading about the battle to specific parts of the whole, to memoirs and to analyses of the strategy, personalities and armies. I have a lot of notes from the three, excellent accounts that I have read so far and Horne’s masterpiece has lead me to further reflections and insights.

- The importance of serendipity in determining events; the actions and decisions of people on the spot and of nature. Things like the doggedness of Driant, the impact of weather on three, crucial occasions and the attacks mounted by the Russians in June.

- The remarkable logistics involved in the build-up for the attack and the fact that the German advance placed pressure on their ability to bring up guns in support.

- Poor command decisions of limited attacks, the secrecy around Falkenhayn’s plans and insufficient resources given to follow-up when most needed.

- Despite this, how close the Germans came to victory after the five days in February but also how far from defeat the French as the German attack was stalled by its own success (not to mention the numerous ‘what-ifs’ around these points including a German attack on both sides of the Meuse, earlier French preparation, French withdrawal to the west bank, Joffre’s preference to abandon Verdun to list but a few).

- Furthermore, how close they came on two further occasions. Around the 12th June when “Nivelle had at hand no more than one fresh brigade in reserve, and there was no indication that the German push had yet exhausted itself. Had the Germans thrust on then, they could almost certainly have broken through to Verdun” (p. 276). Then again later that month (23rd) to the ‘high-water mark (11th July). Yet it was their own side that contributed to their failure by poor communication with the Austrians and the antagonism between Falkenhayn and Conrad resulting in the need to transfer troops east and then, “attacking (once again) on too narrow a front with too few reserves” (p. 291).

- The cost of the loss of Fort Douaumont, not from the German attack but in terms of the numbers to recapture it “…in the estimation of one French divisional commander at Verdun, was to cost France a hundred thousand men” (p 116).

- The difference between preparation and planning. There was plenty of the former but precious little of the latter. Of course, plans have to adapt and adjust to circumstances, but the absence of a grand strategy becomes evident. Perhaps the need to be seen to have one was the reason for Falkenhayn’s bizarre, ex-poste declaration of his strategy to ‘bleed the French white’.

- “Tipperary” being sung by French soldiers as they approached the line. I had not realised that it had been sung by troops of all nations. I learn so much, both big and small.

- The consideration, almost spectre of the Somme offensive, on both sides and its impact on grand strategy, particularly the commitment of additional men and matériel at Verdun.

- The continued slow adaptation of the generals and inability or unwillingness to learn from other fronts, despite successes where they had. When, under increasing pressure to bring it forward, the attack on the Somme was initiated, with the preliminary bombardment brought forward to 24th June “it was Foch’s men—in the van, the famous ‘Iron Corps’, now recovered from its mauling before Verdun in February—who were to mark up the only real success. They worked forward in small groups supported by machine guns, using the land with pronounced tactical skill, in the way they had learned at Verdun, and emulating where possible the German’s own infiltration techniques there. On the first day they overran most of the German first line before getting stuck, and with comparatively light casualties. It was otherwise with the British forces. Led into battle largely by inexperienced generals… trained by generals who believed that what had been good enough for Wellington was good enough for them, commanded by a man who—in his insular contempt for the French Army—felt there was nothing to be gained from its experiences,… advanced in a line that would have earned credit at Dettingen” (pp. 293–294). Of course, the fine example of the French under Foch, or of the sound, detailed planning and execution of the attacks at Verdun in October were not repeated in the disaster of Nivelle’s offensive on the Chemin des Dames of 1917 and his continued ordering attacks against all evidence of their complete failure and futility.

- The critical importance of Verdun. “June 23rd, 1916, represented the climax and crisis of the Battle of Verdun. It was also the turning point in the Great War” (p. 295). As with Vienna 1683, Moscow 1812, Gettysburg 1863 and Coral Sea or Stalingrad 1942 (plus numerous others that readers will think of and know far better than I) it was not a sudden collapse. In fact, the actual ‘high-water mark’ of the attack came on 11th July with a “a dangerous hole in the French front lines, but this time only some 400 yards deep” (p. 299) and even an isolated detachment atop the glacis of Fort Souville who “…could see the twin towers of Verdun cathedral and the Meuse gleaming through the summer haze… The Promised Land! …a sight that would be bestowed on these thirty alone” (p. 299). The battle, and indeed the war, was destined to see plenty of further loss and destruction, Entente failures and German successes until November 1918 (including of course the last-ditch, spring offensive of Operation Michael and Operation George).

- Verdun as a Greek tragedy or plaything of the gods (as was the entire war)—a wargame even, with the 100-foot generals as the gods? The actions of men almost immaterial in comparison to those of the gods (decisions of high command) as they moved the pieces. Highlighted by the battle developing a ‘force of its own’ and of the effects of factors away from Verdun on the availability of ‘resources’ for that battle.