100 Years Ago
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/archive/first-world-war/article4719040.ece
French victories in the air
March 31, 1916
In the region of Verdun five enemy aeroplanes were brought down in the immediate proximity of the lines. Our aeroplanes were struck many times, but all our pilots returned unharmed.
The French official communique issued last night says South of the Somme we bombarded supply stations of Cuzeaux and Hallu, in the Chaulnes district. West of Nouvion an enemy aeroplane was brought down by our special guns. The machine fell five yards in front of our trenches. Its passengers were killed. We brought into our lines one of the machine-guns of the aeroplane. North of the Aisne the fire of our batteries against the enemy organizations on the Vauclerc plateau caused a strong explosion.
In Champagne our special guns brought down a German aeroplane, which fell in the enemy lines near Ste Marie-a-Py. In the Argonne we vigorously bombarded the wood of Malancourt. At the Fille Morte one of our mines wrecked a German trench and another destroyed an enemy post at Hill 285.
West of the Meuse in the course of the day the bombardment of the Malancourt region continued, but there was no infantry action. East of the Meuse the Germans this morning launched against our positions at the approaches to the Fort of Douaumont a violent attack, accompanied by discharges of liquid flame. The enemy was completely repulsed. A little later a second attack on the same point was no more successful, and also cost the enemy very appreciable losses.
In the Woevre there was intermittent artillery activity. In the Vosges a strong enemy reconnaissance, which tried to approach our trenches to the north of Wissembach, was dispersed by curtain fire. In the course of the day our airmen displayed great activity.
In Champagne, in the region of Dontrieu, one of our pilots brought down a Fokker, which fell in flames in the enemy lines. In the region of Verdun five enemy aeroplanes were brought down in the immediate proximity of the lines. Our aeroplanes were struck many times, but all our pilots returned unharmed.
METZ RAILWAY STATIONS BOMBED. The following French official communique was issued yesterday afternoon: South of the Somme after a violent bombardment the enemy penetrated into an advanced portion of our line west of Vermandovillers, north of Chaulnes. He was immediately afterwards driven back by our counter-attack. West of the Meuse the Germans made several counter-attacks during the night on our positions in the Avocourt Wood. All their assaults were repulsed by our curtain fire, our machine-gun fire, and our infantry, which caused great havoc in the ranks of the enemy, especially in front of the Avocourt Redoubt, where the Germans left heaps of corpses. No fresh attempts were made by the enemy in the Malancourt region.
East of the Meuse and in the Woevre there was an intermittent bombardment. The Germans placed in the Meuse north of St Mihiel a large number of floating mines, which, however did no damage. In Lorraine our artillery was active between Domevre aad Bremenil.
There is no important event to report on the rest of the front. During yesterday one of our aeroplane squadrons dropped 15 bombs of large calibre on the railway station of Metz-Sablon and five on that of Pagny-sur-Moselle.
Last night two of our aeroplanes bombarded the station of Maizieres-les-Metz.
BRITISH BIPLANE BROUGHT DOWN.
Berlin, March 30. German official statement. In the region of the Lihons (two miles west of Chaulnes) a small German detachment made a raid upon the enemy’s position and on its return brought back one captain and 57 men as prisoners. West of the Meuse repeated French attacks were made, after vigorous artillery preparation, with the object of recapturing the positions in the wood north-west of Avocourt. These attacks were repulsed. In the south-eastern corner of the wood very little fighting developed at close quarters. This continued during the night until the enemy during the early hours of this morning was obliged to slacken his efforts. Artillery activity continues to be most vigorous on both banks of the Meuse. It an aerial fight which took place east of Bapaume Lieutenant Immelmann put his twelfth enemy aeroplane out of action, this being an English biplane. Its occupants are prisoners in our hands. The bombs dropped on Metz by the enemy caused the death of one soldier. Others were injured. Wireless Press.
Vermandovillers and Lihons, mentioned in the French and Gennan reports respectively as the scenes of the fighting south of the Somme, are within a few miles of each other, Vermandovillers being to the north and Lihons to the west of Chaulnes.
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/archive/first-world-war/article4719035.ece
Russian soldiers in France
April 21, 1916
The men are magnificent, war-tried troops, blazing with decorations won upon the field of battle.
PARIS, Ap 20. Truth, limping after fiction, has brought a force of Russia’s best troops to fight on French soil. The numbers may not equal those of the phantom armies seen in Great Britain in the early part of the war, but the force which arrived at Marseilles this morning, and proceeded to the camp prepared for its reception, is considerable, not only in numbers, but also as a symbol of “unity of action and unity of front” among the Allies. It is this aspect of the event which General Joffre emphasizes in the following Order of the Day:
“Our faithful Ally, Russia, whose armies are already fighting so valiantly against Germany, Austria, and Turkey, has wished to give further proof of her friendship to France, and even more signal proof of her devotion to the common cause. Russian soldiers, selected from among the bravest and led by the best-known officers, are coming to flght in our ranks. You will welcome them as brothers. You will show them how warm is the feeling you have for those who have left their country to flght at our side. On behalf of the French Army I welcome the officers non-commissioned officers, and men who have landed in France. I bow before their colours, upon which will soon be inscribed the glorious names of common victories.”
The troops landed at Marseilles amid enthusiastic cries from the crowd of “Vive la Russie!” and to the strains of the Russian National Anthem. The men are magnificent, war-tried troops, blazing with decorations won upon the field of battle. The Russian officers and representatives of the French naval and military authorities were entertained at luncheon by M Paul Doumer, Senator, whose journey to Russia was not unconnected with today’s event. Here there was cordial toasting of “The Alliance of Victory” and of Trebizond, the capture of which the Russians first learned of from a special newspaper which is to be published for their benefit - “Russian Soldiers’ Friend”.
The men who have arrived, great though may be their gallantry, are not going to hasten victory appreciably, but their presence in the French Army will contribute more than thousands of pamphlets and speeches of propaganda departments to make of the Franco-Russian Alliance a tangible thing to the man in the trench.
Every one of the Russians who have arrived will, by his letters to his Russian home, be spreading knowledge of the splendour of France.
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/archive/first-world-war/article4719174.ece
The Irish Disturbances
April 26, 1916
The German societies and the “extremist” Irish societies in the Republic have been working hand and glove under German direction for a long time past to prejudice Americans against this country and to make mischief between the two Governments
The Germans have always counted upon armed insurrection in Ireland. They have striven to provoke it from the outbreak of the War, and at last they have succeeded in getting their dupes to indulge in an insane rising. The statements published “by lawful authority,” which alone are available, leave its proportions and the general situation obscure; but there is no doubt about its main features. It is evidently the result of a carefully-arranged plot, concocted between the Irish traitors and their German confederates. At a time, vaguely described as between Thursday and Friday afternoon, a German auxiliary cruiser, disguised as a neutral merchant ship and acting in conjunction with a German submarine, made an attempt to land arms and ammunitions in Ireland at a point un-named. The notorious Sir Roger Casement had been brought over, but apparently the local conspirators failed to play their part, the cruiser sank, and he was amongst the prisoners captured.
The plotters had probably allowed a brief interval for the distribution of the arms and for Sir Roger to exercise his supposed influence in the country. At all events, no further action of an overt character seems to have taken place until Monday. At noon on that day “grave disturbances” broke out in Dublin, and at nightfall the rebels “identified with the Sinn Feiners” were “still in possession of four or five parts of the city” - though Mr Birrell, fortunately was able to declare yesterday that “the situation is now well in hand”.
The General Post-Office, in the heart of the Irish capital, was seized and telegraphic communication cut. Apparently it had been very imperfectly restored up to yesterday afternoon, as the Chief Secretary excused himself from giving the House of Commons further particulars on the ground of its defective condition. He was, however, able to assure them that even on Monday the insurgents “were not in possession of the whole city,” and that in the course of the day troops had been brought up from the Curragh. Questions extracted from him some additional information about the casualties, and this was amplified later by a more detailed official statement.
Then, yesterday morning, there followed the raid upon Lowestoft of the German battle cruiser squadron, which was evidently a part of the combined movement. It was of the usual fugitive kind. The squadron turned back as soon as the period of safety was up and before our big ships could come upon the scene. It was most gallantly, but ineffectually, chased by the light cruisers and destroyers on the spot, three of which were hit but none sunk.
The date for the joint operations of Sir Roger Casement and the Kaiser’s Admiral was carefully chosen. It was fixed for a weekend and for the Easter Weekend, when experience suggested that our Ministers might relax their vigilance. Two motives probably actuated the Germans. They may have hoped that a simultaneous attack in Ireland and on the East Coast - the two flanks of the position - would have created a panic in England, and that the panic would have led us to retain troops at home instead of sending them abroad. If any idea of the sort was entertained the fact but affords one more illustration of the congenital incapacity of the Germans to understand the British temper. There has not been the slightest sign of alarm in any quarter, and we shall be greatly surprised if the general population even in Dublin take the “insurrection” very seriously. They will doubtless be irritated at the failure of the Government to protect them and their property from a form of outrage the possibility of which has been long foreseen, but we do not think that they will be uneasy about the success of the rebels. Again, the Germans may have calculated that a rising in Ireland would influence certain kinds of American; opinion in their favour at a moment when their relations with the United States are critical. The German societies and the “extremist” Irish societies in the Republic have been working hand and glove under German direction for a long time past to prejudice Americans against this country and to make mischief between the two Governments, they will doubtless exert themselves to the uttermost to win sympathy for “Ireland’s struggle for freedom”. Their efforts cannot be regarded with entire indifference, but, the remedy lies in the hands of the British Cabinet. If they try to hush up any part of the truth, oii to confine intelligence reaching America to official communications dole out by themselves, the German agencies in the United States and the Irish “extremists” will have a free field for their malign activities. If, on the other hand, they allow responsible and competent American correspondents to investigate matters freely for themselves, and to report what they have seen and heard, unfettered by the meticulous fears of officialdom, we have every confidence that the Germans will find they have misunderstood real American opinion as completely as they have misunderstood the opinion of Great Britain.
There can be no doubt that the attempt at a rising will be speedily quelled, if, indeed, it has not collapsed already. The statement in the communique that there have not been disturbances in certain cities and districts in the south is distinctly satisfactory so far as it goes. The Casement invasion itself appears to have been the merest opera bouffe, and its character will be thoroughly appreciated across the Irish Channel. It suggests that the Germans had grown tired of him and his boasts, and had insisted that he should redeem his promises. The action of the Sinn Feiners is more serious for it must always be serious when our fellow-subjects kill the King’s soldiers instead of killing his enemies. But sporadic rebels, presumably without artillery or even machine-guns, cannot require any considerable force to suppress them or affect the military situation. The whole miserable business is a sorry commentary upon the complete failure of Mr Birrell to maintain respect for law and order during the nine years of his weak and callous administration. Three months after he went to Dublin Castle he stated with perfect truth that Ireland was “in a more peaceful condition than she had been for the last six hundred years”. Today we see the Sinn Fein conspiracy seizing control for the moment of a great part of the Irish capital in league with our enemies. Such are the fruits of truckling to sedition and making light of contempt for the law. This is not yet the moment for calling to account what is by common consent the worst executive that was ever responsible for Irish affairs. The time will come when the reckoning must be made. At present it is the duty of us all to insist that firm measures shall be taken to overawe sedition and to suppress the organization, so many of whose members have dropped the mask and appeared as declared rebels in collusion with our enemies. In all measures of that kind the Government can rely upon the unanimous and hearty support of the King’s loyal subjects.
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/archive/first-world-war/article4719074.ece
In a British Army biplane to France and back
May 26, 1916
As far as the eye could see, over that vast expanse, were what might be taken for small volcanoes. Here, there, everywhere - the surface of the earth opened, belched forth a black substance, while an ominous cloud of smoke drifted lazily away
The following article by Mr Gordon Bruce has appeared in the “New York Tribune”.
Traveling from the heart of England to the battle lines in France, in one of his Majesty’s fighting biplanes; returning in a speedy scout monoplane; on these two voyages, when I passed first over peaceful rural England, then out above the blue of the Channel, where, far below me a fleet of British battleships in cruising formation showed like moving grey shadows on the gleaming water, two great facts came home to me. First, the realization of what the aeroplane means in modern warfare: and, secondly, the remarkable efficiency which has been attained by the Royal Flying Corps, proclaiming the progress made by Britain in her struggle for the mastery of the skies.
A long row of new biplanes stood before the sheds in the level field. “You may choose whichever machine you like,” the commandant said. “That makes it easy,” I replied. “I’ll go with the first pilot who is ready.” It was, it happened, Lieutenant Mead.
I had made a good choice. Lieutenant Mead is tall, young, with keen grey eyes - the type the RFC invariably selects for this important work. He inspired confidence. And this is a grave matter, for the more one travels by air, as a passenger, the more particular he becomes about his pilot.
Our aeroplane, a new product of the Royal Aircraft Factory, stood ready, grey, compact, powerful. Her struts and cables were massive. Her two seats, arranged tandem order in the fuselage, were roomy and comfortable. A few sweeping circles to gain altitude, and we headed into the east. The earth had flattened out, and lay down there flooded in sunlight - a thing of glory. Field, forest, stream - each had its part in the fashioning of that wonderful carpet. But after awhile the character of the land changed. The plains gave way to hills, bleak and grey. The roads showed very white, for this was the chalk and limestone country. They were quite clearly defined, these roads, a thin network of delicate lines like the veins in a leaf.
Then we came into the cooler air of the coast. Below us the sun and mist were dividing it evenly between them, and suddenly there rose up, far ahead, an endless blue wall. There was no gradual entering into the strange element before us. Abruptly, as we swept over the line of white cliffs, we were swallowed up in blackness. What had seemed impassable was giving way before us.
On and on we flew. There was nothing in front of us, nothing behind us, nothing on either side. I turned to look at Mead. He nodded, and nosed the machine down, down through the blue vapour until I looked over and saw, as if it were at the bottom of a deep well of light, the grey water of the Channel. Then the gloom of a patch of mist engulfed us.
Once, when the darkness slowly yielded to the light, I had a start. Almost directly under our craft appeared a spot quite foreign to anything I had seen before. Gradually it assumed slender, cigar-like lines. As it became distinct, the light played on the silver envelope of one of Britain’s dirigibles. She was 2,000ft below, probably patrolling; and she looked for all the world like a great sluggish fish, nosing her way through the sea of mist.
WITHIN AN ACE OF A SMASH
Below us the water ended in the pleasant sweep of the French coast, about eight miles distant. Then came an unkind shock. Without warning the revolutions of the engine dropped several hundred to the minute - dropped far beIow flying speed; and slowly but surely we began to descend, which was disconcerting, considering that we were flying in a land machine with nothing to keep her afloat.
Instantly Mead steered for the nearest point on the coast. He was quite cool and self-possessed, even if the cliffs suddenly lost their beauty and jutted ugly and forbidding. For my part I wasn’t sure that I would not prefer to take my chances in the Channel. It seemed a bit hopeless either way. The pilot calculated rapidly - then headed her toward the largest open space on the shore.
It probably was the worst landing spot in France, but he had no choice. In one last dive we tore over the coastline and down into a gullied cow pasture on a steep hillside. The plane missed a fence by less than a foot and struck the crest of the hill at a speed which Mead afterwards declared must have been 100 miles an hour. As the wheels came into contact with the earth we bounced high in the air and plunged on down the hill.
Three times this occurred, and each time we braced ourselves for the smash that seemed inevitable. But the wonderful construction of the machine saved us. With a final crazy lurch we left the last hummock and alighted neatly in the mathematical centre of a slimy frog pond, while frightened cattle fled in every direction.
“Bit of luck,” commented Mead, as we climbed out and waded ashore. “Takes a good bus to stand that.”
I agreed, and also thought, “Takes a good man to make such a landing without piling up.”
His first thought was to report to headquarters. Despite the isolation of the spot two gendarmes were there within 10 minutes, and shortly a British orderly appeared. He came from an Australian hospital a mile away, and said, “The Colonel’s compliments. He says he can arrange communication for you and will you join him at luncheon.”
It was amazing to find such an abundance of aid in so bleak a place. The attitude of the French showed how fully the military of the two nations are cooperating. Lorries were soon on the way from aviation quarters and also from a supply depot a few miles away, which indicated how effective is the system installed at the front by the RFC.
Long before the tenders arrived Mead had discovered the source of the trouble. It was of a minor nature and likely to occur in the very best of aeroplanes and automobiles. A nut holding the pressure feed device had worked loose, thereby reducing the flow of petrol. Two minutes were sufficient to correct it. The machine was run out of the water under her own power and the only damage she sustained was the parting of a cable caused by the shock of contact with the ground.
When it came to getting away again Mead did what seemed impossible. There wasn’t a level spot in that whole pasture. Yet Mead selected a course where he had to dodge hummocks, and which gave him only about one-third of the proper space, took her jolting over the rough ground and a plunge off the cliff over the water.
But we came through. The construction again proved its worth. The motor held to its task and we were off to the main aviation base of the British Army in France.
TOILERS IN FERTILE FRANCE
Mile after mile of fertile fields, in which women were handling the ploughs and cultivators lay below us. One had to look sharp, indeed, to discover even a tiny plot which was unplanted. And I felt the pride which the whole world feels for the record France has made.
Northward we sped - toward where the great Armies face each other. Only the eye could tell when we approached, for the steady roar of the motor running with precision and smoothness, drowned all other noise.
I had been gazing off to the right for some time, trying to make out a distant object which puzzled me. I gave it up and turned quite abruptly to the left. Looking down, I stared. As far as the eye could see, over that vast expanse, were what might be taken for small volcanoes. Here, there, everywhere - the surface of the earth opened, belched forth a black substance, while an ominous cloud of smoke drifted lazily away. My mind was slow to grasp the meaning of it - that this was the work of artillery. Now and then from a patch of woodland the smoke would filter out. Three times in passing over villages I saw buildings vanish as if by magic. Only the smoke remained.
And then - then came those two jagged wounds - those two ugly wounds from which the lifeblood of natons is pouring. They ran side by side, now very close together, now diverging a bit to become parallel farther along. Sinister and ghastly, they stretched away into the distance. And as if they were not raw enough, from time to time the shells tormented them, tearing vicious holes and doubtless hurling human beings into the air with the mud and smoke. I was glad I could not see that.
ENTHUSIASM OF OUR AIRMEN
And so we came at last to the headquarters of the RFC. It was pleasant to glide down and land gently on that smooth green. To get away from the grim evidence of what was happening so few miles away. Now, less than two months ago I visited that same aerodrome and inspected the equipment. And there is no comparison between what I found there at the time of my first visit and what is there now. The improvement is amazing.
My return to England was made in a fast monoplane with Lieutenant Passant. It was swift and absurdly easy. But there was one incident. It was when we were crossing the Channel at a height of almost two miles. Away down there, showing against the sunlit water, were three long white lines. They were like three great lines of breakers, except that they were straight and unwavering. It was not until Passant noticed them and descended a bit that I could make out what they were. A mere trifle. Only about 30 of his Majesty’s warships, steaming along in cruising formation, three abreast, and one behind the other in each line.
Nothing I ever have seen was more inspiring than the sight of those ships, moving with an indescribable grandeur toward an unknown destination, their snowy wakes blending into three perfectly straight lines. I thought of that other mighty Fleet - the watchdog of the North Sea, which holds the Kaiser’s ships like rats in a trap.
And, as the white lines faded into the distance, I concluded that England has not only a very respectable Air Service, but a pretty good Navy.
French victories in the air
March 31, 1916
In the region of Verdun five enemy aeroplanes were brought down in the immediate proximity of the lines. Our aeroplanes were struck many times, but all our pilots returned unharmed.
The French official communique issued last night says South of the Somme we bombarded supply stations of Cuzeaux and Hallu, in the Chaulnes district. West of Nouvion an enemy aeroplane was brought down by our special guns. The machine fell five yards in front of our trenches. Its passengers were killed. We brought into our lines one of the machine-guns of the aeroplane. North of the Aisne the fire of our batteries against the enemy organizations on the Vauclerc plateau caused a strong explosion.
In Champagne our special guns brought down a German aeroplane, which fell in the enemy lines near Ste Marie-a-Py. In the Argonne we vigorously bombarded the wood of Malancourt. At the Fille Morte one of our mines wrecked a German trench and another destroyed an enemy post at Hill 285.
West of the Meuse in the course of the day the bombardment of the Malancourt region continued, but there was no infantry action. East of the Meuse the Germans this morning launched against our positions at the approaches to the Fort of Douaumont a violent attack, accompanied by discharges of liquid flame. The enemy was completely repulsed. A little later a second attack on the same point was no more successful, and also cost the enemy very appreciable losses.
In the Woevre there was intermittent artillery activity. In the Vosges a strong enemy reconnaissance, which tried to approach our trenches to the north of Wissembach, was dispersed by curtain fire. In the course of the day our airmen displayed great activity.
In Champagne, in the region of Dontrieu, one of our pilots brought down a Fokker, which fell in flames in the enemy lines. In the region of Verdun five enemy aeroplanes were brought down in the immediate proximity of the lines. Our aeroplanes were struck many times, but all our pilots returned unharmed.
METZ RAILWAY STATIONS BOMBED. The following French official communique was issued yesterday afternoon: South of the Somme after a violent bombardment the enemy penetrated into an advanced portion of our line west of Vermandovillers, north of Chaulnes. He was immediately afterwards driven back by our counter-attack. West of the Meuse the Germans made several counter-attacks during the night on our positions in the Avocourt Wood. All their assaults were repulsed by our curtain fire, our machine-gun fire, and our infantry, which caused great havoc in the ranks of the enemy, especially in front of the Avocourt Redoubt, where the Germans left heaps of corpses. No fresh attempts were made by the enemy in the Malancourt region.
East of the Meuse and in the Woevre there was an intermittent bombardment. The Germans placed in the Meuse north of St Mihiel a large number of floating mines, which, however did no damage. In Lorraine our artillery was active between Domevre aad Bremenil.
There is no important event to report on the rest of the front. During yesterday one of our aeroplane squadrons dropped 15 bombs of large calibre on the railway station of Metz-Sablon and five on that of Pagny-sur-Moselle.
Last night two of our aeroplanes bombarded the station of Maizieres-les-Metz.
BRITISH BIPLANE BROUGHT DOWN.
Berlin, March 30. German official statement. In the region of the Lihons (two miles west of Chaulnes) a small German detachment made a raid upon the enemy’s position and on its return brought back one captain and 57 men as prisoners. West of the Meuse repeated French attacks were made, after vigorous artillery preparation, with the object of recapturing the positions in the wood north-west of Avocourt. These attacks were repulsed. In the south-eastern corner of the wood very little fighting developed at close quarters. This continued during the night until the enemy during the early hours of this morning was obliged to slacken his efforts. Artillery activity continues to be most vigorous on both banks of the Meuse. It an aerial fight which took place east of Bapaume Lieutenant Immelmann put his twelfth enemy aeroplane out of action, this being an English biplane. Its occupants are prisoners in our hands. The bombs dropped on Metz by the enemy caused the death of one soldier. Others were injured. Wireless Press.
Vermandovillers and Lihons, mentioned in the French and Gennan reports respectively as the scenes of the fighting south of the Somme, are within a few miles of each other, Vermandovillers being to the north and Lihons to the west of Chaulnes.
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/archive/first-world-war/article4719035.ece
Russian soldiers in France
April 21, 1916
The men are magnificent, war-tried troops, blazing with decorations won upon the field of battle.
PARIS, Ap 20. Truth, limping after fiction, has brought a force of Russia’s best troops to fight on French soil. The numbers may not equal those of the phantom armies seen in Great Britain in the early part of the war, but the force which arrived at Marseilles this morning, and proceeded to the camp prepared for its reception, is considerable, not only in numbers, but also as a symbol of “unity of action and unity of front” among the Allies. It is this aspect of the event which General Joffre emphasizes in the following Order of the Day:
“Our faithful Ally, Russia, whose armies are already fighting so valiantly against Germany, Austria, and Turkey, has wished to give further proof of her friendship to France, and even more signal proof of her devotion to the common cause. Russian soldiers, selected from among the bravest and led by the best-known officers, are coming to flght in our ranks. You will welcome them as brothers. You will show them how warm is the feeling you have for those who have left their country to flght at our side. On behalf of the French Army I welcome the officers non-commissioned officers, and men who have landed in France. I bow before their colours, upon which will soon be inscribed the glorious names of common victories.”
The troops landed at Marseilles amid enthusiastic cries from the crowd of “Vive la Russie!” and to the strains of the Russian National Anthem. The men are magnificent, war-tried troops, blazing with decorations won upon the field of battle. The Russian officers and representatives of the French naval and military authorities were entertained at luncheon by M Paul Doumer, Senator, whose journey to Russia was not unconnected with today’s event. Here there was cordial toasting of “The Alliance of Victory” and of Trebizond, the capture of which the Russians first learned of from a special newspaper which is to be published for their benefit - “Russian Soldiers’ Friend”.
The men who have arrived, great though may be their gallantry, are not going to hasten victory appreciably, but their presence in the French Army will contribute more than thousands of pamphlets and speeches of propaganda departments to make of the Franco-Russian Alliance a tangible thing to the man in the trench.
Every one of the Russians who have arrived will, by his letters to his Russian home, be spreading knowledge of the splendour of France.
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/archive/first-world-war/article4719174.ece
The Irish Disturbances
April 26, 1916
The German societies and the “extremist” Irish societies in the Republic have been working hand and glove under German direction for a long time past to prejudice Americans against this country and to make mischief between the two Governments
The Germans have always counted upon armed insurrection in Ireland. They have striven to provoke it from the outbreak of the War, and at last they have succeeded in getting their dupes to indulge in an insane rising. The statements published “by lawful authority,” which alone are available, leave its proportions and the general situation obscure; but there is no doubt about its main features. It is evidently the result of a carefully-arranged plot, concocted between the Irish traitors and their German confederates. At a time, vaguely described as between Thursday and Friday afternoon, a German auxiliary cruiser, disguised as a neutral merchant ship and acting in conjunction with a German submarine, made an attempt to land arms and ammunitions in Ireland at a point un-named. The notorious Sir Roger Casement had been brought over, but apparently the local conspirators failed to play their part, the cruiser sank, and he was amongst the prisoners captured.
The plotters had probably allowed a brief interval for the distribution of the arms and for Sir Roger to exercise his supposed influence in the country. At all events, no further action of an overt character seems to have taken place until Monday. At noon on that day “grave disturbances” broke out in Dublin, and at nightfall the rebels “identified with the Sinn Feiners” were “still in possession of four or five parts of the city” - though Mr Birrell, fortunately was able to declare yesterday that “the situation is now well in hand”.
The General Post-Office, in the heart of the Irish capital, was seized and telegraphic communication cut. Apparently it had been very imperfectly restored up to yesterday afternoon, as the Chief Secretary excused himself from giving the House of Commons further particulars on the ground of its defective condition. He was, however, able to assure them that even on Monday the insurgents “were not in possession of the whole city,” and that in the course of the day troops had been brought up from the Curragh. Questions extracted from him some additional information about the casualties, and this was amplified later by a more detailed official statement.
Then, yesterday morning, there followed the raid upon Lowestoft of the German battle cruiser squadron, which was evidently a part of the combined movement. It was of the usual fugitive kind. The squadron turned back as soon as the period of safety was up and before our big ships could come upon the scene. It was most gallantly, but ineffectually, chased by the light cruisers and destroyers on the spot, three of which were hit but none sunk.
The date for the joint operations of Sir Roger Casement and the Kaiser’s Admiral was carefully chosen. It was fixed for a weekend and for the Easter Weekend, when experience suggested that our Ministers might relax their vigilance. Two motives probably actuated the Germans. They may have hoped that a simultaneous attack in Ireland and on the East Coast - the two flanks of the position - would have created a panic in England, and that the panic would have led us to retain troops at home instead of sending them abroad. If any idea of the sort was entertained the fact but affords one more illustration of the congenital incapacity of the Germans to understand the British temper. There has not been the slightest sign of alarm in any quarter, and we shall be greatly surprised if the general population even in Dublin take the “insurrection” very seriously. They will doubtless be irritated at the failure of the Government to protect them and their property from a form of outrage the possibility of which has been long foreseen, but we do not think that they will be uneasy about the success of the rebels. Again, the Germans may have calculated that a rising in Ireland would influence certain kinds of American; opinion in their favour at a moment when their relations with the United States are critical. The German societies and the “extremist” Irish societies in the Republic have been working hand and glove under German direction for a long time past to prejudice Americans against this country and to make mischief between the two Governments, they will doubtless exert themselves to the uttermost to win sympathy for “Ireland’s struggle for freedom”. Their efforts cannot be regarded with entire indifference, but, the remedy lies in the hands of the British Cabinet. If they try to hush up any part of the truth, oii to confine intelligence reaching America to official communications dole out by themselves, the German agencies in the United States and the Irish “extremists” will have a free field for their malign activities. If, on the other hand, they allow responsible and competent American correspondents to investigate matters freely for themselves, and to report what they have seen and heard, unfettered by the meticulous fears of officialdom, we have every confidence that the Germans will find they have misunderstood real American opinion as completely as they have misunderstood the opinion of Great Britain.
There can be no doubt that the attempt at a rising will be speedily quelled, if, indeed, it has not collapsed already. The statement in the communique that there have not been disturbances in certain cities and districts in the south is distinctly satisfactory so far as it goes. The Casement invasion itself appears to have been the merest opera bouffe, and its character will be thoroughly appreciated across the Irish Channel. It suggests that the Germans had grown tired of him and his boasts, and had insisted that he should redeem his promises. The action of the Sinn Feiners is more serious for it must always be serious when our fellow-subjects kill the King’s soldiers instead of killing his enemies. But sporadic rebels, presumably without artillery or even machine-guns, cannot require any considerable force to suppress them or affect the military situation. The whole miserable business is a sorry commentary upon the complete failure of Mr Birrell to maintain respect for law and order during the nine years of his weak and callous administration. Three months after he went to Dublin Castle he stated with perfect truth that Ireland was “in a more peaceful condition than she had been for the last six hundred years”. Today we see the Sinn Fein conspiracy seizing control for the moment of a great part of the Irish capital in league with our enemies. Such are the fruits of truckling to sedition and making light of contempt for the law. This is not yet the moment for calling to account what is by common consent the worst executive that was ever responsible for Irish affairs. The time will come when the reckoning must be made. At present it is the duty of us all to insist that firm measures shall be taken to overawe sedition and to suppress the organization, so many of whose members have dropped the mask and appeared as declared rebels in collusion with our enemies. In all measures of that kind the Government can rely upon the unanimous and hearty support of the King’s loyal subjects.
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/archive/first-world-war/article4719074.ece
In a British Army biplane to France and back
May 26, 1916
As far as the eye could see, over that vast expanse, were what might be taken for small volcanoes. Here, there, everywhere - the surface of the earth opened, belched forth a black substance, while an ominous cloud of smoke drifted lazily away
The following article by Mr Gordon Bruce has appeared in the “New York Tribune”.
Traveling from the heart of England to the battle lines in France, in one of his Majesty’s fighting biplanes; returning in a speedy scout monoplane; on these two voyages, when I passed first over peaceful rural England, then out above the blue of the Channel, where, far below me a fleet of British battleships in cruising formation showed like moving grey shadows on the gleaming water, two great facts came home to me. First, the realization of what the aeroplane means in modern warfare: and, secondly, the remarkable efficiency which has been attained by the Royal Flying Corps, proclaiming the progress made by Britain in her struggle for the mastery of the skies.
A long row of new biplanes stood before the sheds in the level field. “You may choose whichever machine you like,” the commandant said. “That makes it easy,” I replied. “I’ll go with the first pilot who is ready.” It was, it happened, Lieutenant Mead.
I had made a good choice. Lieutenant Mead is tall, young, with keen grey eyes - the type the RFC invariably selects for this important work. He inspired confidence. And this is a grave matter, for the more one travels by air, as a passenger, the more particular he becomes about his pilot.
Our aeroplane, a new product of the Royal Aircraft Factory, stood ready, grey, compact, powerful. Her struts and cables were massive. Her two seats, arranged tandem order in the fuselage, were roomy and comfortable. A few sweeping circles to gain altitude, and we headed into the east. The earth had flattened out, and lay down there flooded in sunlight - a thing of glory. Field, forest, stream - each had its part in the fashioning of that wonderful carpet. But after awhile the character of the land changed. The plains gave way to hills, bleak and grey. The roads showed very white, for this was the chalk and limestone country. They were quite clearly defined, these roads, a thin network of delicate lines like the veins in a leaf.
Then we came into the cooler air of the coast. Below us the sun and mist were dividing it evenly between them, and suddenly there rose up, far ahead, an endless blue wall. There was no gradual entering into the strange element before us. Abruptly, as we swept over the line of white cliffs, we were swallowed up in blackness. What had seemed impassable was giving way before us.
On and on we flew. There was nothing in front of us, nothing behind us, nothing on either side. I turned to look at Mead. He nodded, and nosed the machine down, down through the blue vapour until I looked over and saw, as if it were at the bottom of a deep well of light, the grey water of the Channel. Then the gloom of a patch of mist engulfed us.
Once, when the darkness slowly yielded to the light, I had a start. Almost directly under our craft appeared a spot quite foreign to anything I had seen before. Gradually it assumed slender, cigar-like lines. As it became distinct, the light played on the silver envelope of one of Britain’s dirigibles. She was 2,000ft below, probably patrolling; and she looked for all the world like a great sluggish fish, nosing her way through the sea of mist.
WITHIN AN ACE OF A SMASH
Below us the water ended in the pleasant sweep of the French coast, about eight miles distant. Then came an unkind shock. Without warning the revolutions of the engine dropped several hundred to the minute - dropped far beIow flying speed; and slowly but surely we began to descend, which was disconcerting, considering that we were flying in a land machine with nothing to keep her afloat.
Instantly Mead steered for the nearest point on the coast. He was quite cool and self-possessed, even if the cliffs suddenly lost their beauty and jutted ugly and forbidding. For my part I wasn’t sure that I would not prefer to take my chances in the Channel. It seemed a bit hopeless either way. The pilot calculated rapidly - then headed her toward the largest open space on the shore.
It probably was the worst landing spot in France, but he had no choice. In one last dive we tore over the coastline and down into a gullied cow pasture on a steep hillside. The plane missed a fence by less than a foot and struck the crest of the hill at a speed which Mead afterwards declared must have been 100 miles an hour. As the wheels came into contact with the earth we bounced high in the air and plunged on down the hill.
Three times this occurred, and each time we braced ourselves for the smash that seemed inevitable. But the wonderful construction of the machine saved us. With a final crazy lurch we left the last hummock and alighted neatly in the mathematical centre of a slimy frog pond, while frightened cattle fled in every direction.
“Bit of luck,” commented Mead, as we climbed out and waded ashore. “Takes a good bus to stand that.”
I agreed, and also thought, “Takes a good man to make such a landing without piling up.”
His first thought was to report to headquarters. Despite the isolation of the spot two gendarmes were there within 10 minutes, and shortly a British orderly appeared. He came from an Australian hospital a mile away, and said, “The Colonel’s compliments. He says he can arrange communication for you and will you join him at luncheon.”
It was amazing to find such an abundance of aid in so bleak a place. The attitude of the French showed how fully the military of the two nations are cooperating. Lorries were soon on the way from aviation quarters and also from a supply depot a few miles away, which indicated how effective is the system installed at the front by the RFC.
Long before the tenders arrived Mead had discovered the source of the trouble. It was of a minor nature and likely to occur in the very best of aeroplanes and automobiles. A nut holding the pressure feed device had worked loose, thereby reducing the flow of petrol. Two minutes were sufficient to correct it. The machine was run out of the water under her own power and the only damage she sustained was the parting of a cable caused by the shock of contact with the ground.
When it came to getting away again Mead did what seemed impossible. There wasn’t a level spot in that whole pasture. Yet Mead selected a course where he had to dodge hummocks, and which gave him only about one-third of the proper space, took her jolting over the rough ground and a plunge off the cliff over the water.
But we came through. The construction again proved its worth. The motor held to its task and we were off to the main aviation base of the British Army in France.
TOILERS IN FERTILE FRANCE
Mile after mile of fertile fields, in which women were handling the ploughs and cultivators lay below us. One had to look sharp, indeed, to discover even a tiny plot which was unplanted. And I felt the pride which the whole world feels for the record France has made.
Northward we sped - toward where the great Armies face each other. Only the eye could tell when we approached, for the steady roar of the motor running with precision and smoothness, drowned all other noise.
I had been gazing off to the right for some time, trying to make out a distant object which puzzled me. I gave it up and turned quite abruptly to the left. Looking down, I stared. As far as the eye could see, over that vast expanse, were what might be taken for small volcanoes. Here, there, everywhere - the surface of the earth opened, belched forth a black substance, while an ominous cloud of smoke drifted lazily away. My mind was slow to grasp the meaning of it - that this was the work of artillery. Now and then from a patch of woodland the smoke would filter out. Three times in passing over villages I saw buildings vanish as if by magic. Only the smoke remained.
And then - then came those two jagged wounds - those two ugly wounds from which the lifeblood of natons is pouring. They ran side by side, now very close together, now diverging a bit to become parallel farther along. Sinister and ghastly, they stretched away into the distance. And as if they were not raw enough, from time to time the shells tormented them, tearing vicious holes and doubtless hurling human beings into the air with the mud and smoke. I was glad I could not see that.
ENTHUSIASM OF OUR AIRMEN
And so we came at last to the headquarters of the RFC. It was pleasant to glide down and land gently on that smooth green. To get away from the grim evidence of what was happening so few miles away. Now, less than two months ago I visited that same aerodrome and inspected the equipment. And there is no comparison between what I found there at the time of my first visit and what is there now. The improvement is amazing.
My return to England was made in a fast monoplane with Lieutenant Passant. It was swift and absurdly easy. But there was one incident. It was when we were crossing the Channel at a height of almost two miles. Away down there, showing against the sunlit water, were three long white lines. They were like three great lines of breakers, except that they were straight and unwavering. It was not until Passant noticed them and descended a bit that I could make out what they were. A mere trifle. Only about 30 of his Majesty’s warships, steaming along in cruising formation, three abreast, and one behind the other in each line.
Nothing I ever have seen was more inspiring than the sight of those ships, moving with an indescribable grandeur toward an unknown destination, their snowy wakes blending into three perfectly straight lines. I thought of that other mighty Fleet - the watchdog of the North Sea, which holds the Kaiser’s ships like rats in a trap.
And, as the white lines faded into the distance, I concluded that England has not only a very respectable Air Service, but a pretty good Navy.