In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
“The Allied generals knew the fighting would end precisely at 11:00 A.M, yet in the final hours they flung men against an already beaten Germany. The result? Eleven thousand casualties suffered–more than during the D-Day invasion of Normandy. Why? Allied commanders wanted to punish the enemy to the very last moment and career officers saw a fast-fading chance for glory and promotion.”
Most of those eleven thousand were American as became clear at the Congressional enquiry:.
Bland, the other Republican on Subcommittee 3, knifed quickly to the heart of the matter when his turn came to question General Conner (Pershing’s chief of operations, Brig. Gen. Fox Conner) “Do you know of any good reason,“ Bland asked, “why the order to commanders…should not have been that the Armistice had been signed to take effect at 11 o’clock and that actual hostilities or fighting should cease as soon as possible in order to save human life?“ Conner conceded that American forces “would not have been jeopardized by such an order, if that is what you mean.“
Bland then asked, regarding Pershing’s notification to his armies merely that hostilities were to cease at 11 a.m., “Did the order leave it up to the individual commanders to quit firing before or to go ahead firing until 11 o’clock?“ “Yes,“ Conner answered. Bland then asked, “In view of the fact that we had ambitious generals in this Army, who were earnestly fighting our enemies and who hated to desist from doing so … would it have been best under the circumstances to have included in that order that hostilities should cease as soon as practicable before 11 o’clock?“ Conner answered firmly, “No sir, I do not.“
“How many generals did you lose on that day?“ Bland went on. “None,“ Conner replied. “How many colonels did you lose on that day?“ Conner: “I do not know how many were lost.“ “How many lieutenant colonels did you lose on that day?“ Conner: “I do not know the details of any of that.“ “I am convinced,“ Bland continued, “that on November 11 there was not any officer of very high rank taking any chance of losing his own life. …“
I have a book The Last Fighter Pilot. Which tells the tale of the last such USAAF pilot to be killed in WWII in the Pacific. As told by his formation leader that day. Sobering.
Once the deal is done, it’s best if all sides inform all their forces ASAP and with as much reliability as possible, to adopt a purely defensive posture until the actual moment hostilities are agreed to cease.
And there will always be folks who simply don’t get the word. More likely on the losing side, just due to their more screwed up & depleted military condition.
Counterargument:
In ice hockey the score is usually low, and games are often decided by just 1 point. And the commentators and score keepers make much of the winning goal. Which by convention is always the last one. Which is bunk. In a game with a one-point margin it took every goal to win; none is more special than another. Or at least we can’t assume a priori that the last one was the one that really mattered. Even in a more lopsided final score, say 6-2, which two of the excess three not needed to win are useless?
Every wartime death is a tragedy and every wartime death affects the post-war situation. The ones right at the very beginning or the very end are just easier for us to spot by name and then emote over. Which is mostly (not entirely) bunk.
I really feel we should beware of romanticising WW1 deaths.
It seems to have been the most pointless war in history: no real matters of principle on either side, just continuation of politics by other means (to quote Clausewitz).
The losers were the Poor Bloody Infantry on both sides.
There have been many pointless wars in history. While it is prudent not to romanticize war, the values of freedom and democracy our soldiers fought and died for have rarely been more important. We remember their sacrifice and example, and must now do so, so that our freedom and democracy are not devalued by, as you say, the continuation of politics by other means. Or even the mean.
Not really. There were warmongers, foaming-at-the-mouth “patriots”, and so on. Bertrand Russell was thrown in prison; I believe some other war opponents were beaten/killed/deported/ostracized and suffered other consequences. So it is not like the civilian population was completely innocent.
I guess we each have to decide what things are worth fighting for.
“You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don’t ever count on having both at once.”
In another perspective, from e e cummings:
"i sing of Olaf glad and big
whose warmest heart recoiled at war:
a conscientious object-or
his wellbelovéd colonel(trig
westpointer most succinctly bred)
took erring Olaf soon in hand;
but–though an host of overjoyed
noncoms(first knocking on the head
him)do through icy waters roll
that helplessness which others stroke
with brushes recently employed
anent this muddy toiletbowl,
while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments–
Olaf(being to all intents
a corpse and wanting any rag
upon what God unto him gave)
responds,without getting annoyed
“I will not kiss your fucking flag”
straightway the silver bird looked grave
(departing hurriedly to shave)
but–though all kinds of officers
(a yearning nation’s blueeyed pride)
their passive prey did kick and curse
until for wear their clarion
voices and boots were much the worse,
and egged the firstclassprivates on
his rectum wickedly to tease
by means of skilfully applied
bayonets roasted hot with heat–
Olaf(upon what were once knees)
does almost ceaselessly repeat
“there is some shit I will not eat”
our president,being of which
assertions duly notified
threw the yellowsonofabitch
into a dungeon,where he died
Christ(of His mercy infinite)
i pray to see;and Olaf,too
preponderatingly because
unless statistics lie he was
more brave than me:more blond than you."
For the Allies, it was largely about resisting aggression and territorial aggrandizement; on the other side, settling scores and crushing ethnic opposition.
A badly conducted war that was hugely wasteful of life, yes. But not fought for nothing.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
Seven days earlier, a similar farce had been played out on the last day of Italy’s war. The previous July, an an American regiment had been lent to them, fearing that once again the Germans would come their Austro-Hungarians’ rescue. In the event, the Germans had their own problems this time and the A-H Empire’s plans to strike back was doomed. The Italians and Austrians had agreed to a ceasefire but, unlike the Western Front, hadn’t set the frontiers. Therefore the Italians wanted one last charge to grab as much real estate as the clock allowed.
Kell was a participant in the Battle of Vittorio Veneto, a rare, overwhelming victory for Italy. They commemorated it by naming Via Veneto in Rome, which would become their most fashionable shopping district, inspiring film music by both Nino Rota and Burt Bacharach. (The Austrian field marshal, Archduke Joseph August, was still alive in 1960 when La Dolce Vita premiered, but had sadly passed by the time After the Fox hit the screen.