The bloody consequences of incompetent and vacillating leadership were readily evident in the so-called Battle of the Somme (considering the geography and the give-and-take, perhaps it should be “Battles” of the Somme). In Lyn MacDonald’s Somme, I found a more detailed and personalized (because of the interviews and diary entries which fill the book) recounting of the same kinds of horrors I had discovered in Barbara Tuchman’s The Guns of August. True to life, there are some humorous anecdotes tucked between the horrors of battle and descriptions of gore.
I had no idea that Herman’s Hermits’ famous “’’Enery the 8th” song dated to World War I (p. 31). The story of the golden Virgin figure at the top of Albert’s Cathedral was somewhat amusing in that, early in the war, a stray German bullet had hit the tower of the cathedral such that the virgin statue ended up hanging horizontally (and precariously) over the main street of Albert. I was intrigued that first the French and then, the British, had a superstition that if the Virgin were ever to fall, the war would end with a German victory (pp. 105-106). Another time, a soldier stole a dog dish to use as a saucepan (p. 107). It might also just be me, but I was also amused when a young English farmer had been sent to the line. He was standing sentry when an officer asked him if he saw anything. The farmer-soldier answered, “’I see a bloody good field of hay going to waste.” (p. 273).
I also never thought about those WWI “barrels,” “land-ships,” “tanks” not having any lights such that they needed the moonlight to move at night (p. 265). One of my favorite anecdotes may have been the one about the wounded soldier in the base hospital who had been unable to urinate but had begged for the nurses to hold off the catheter for an hour. During that hour, a newspaper reached the soldier about two zeppelins being shot down. Reading about the victories must have relieved something inside because his bladder let go and wet pajamas, sheets, and bed. But the nurses were so pleased that he was progressing that they quickly cleaned up the mess without complaining. However, from then on, they said the magic words, “Two zeppelins downed!” whenever they handed him a urinal or bedpan (p. 303).
The truth, though, is that are certainly more gasps at the waste of human lives and the way they were killed than there were chuckles. One veteran described “…a sound that chilled the blood; a nerve-scraping noise like ‘enormous wet fingers screeching across a pane of glass.’ It was coming from the wounded lying out in No Man’s Land. Some screaming, some muttering, some weeping with fear, some calling for help, shouting in delirium, groaning with pain, the sounds of their distress had synthesized into one unearthly wail. (p. 65) Another anecdote is stranger than fiction in a first-person account of a wounded soldier hunkered down in a crater pretending to be dead as German soldiers passed over and even poked him with a bayonet (p. 100). A corporal remembered, “…wondering if the Germans had machine-guns up in the trees because, as we were getting back, I remember the bullets hitting the ground, just like heavy raindrops.” (p. 148) I also wonder if there is anything more macabre than a survivor’s lottery (p. 326).
But one of the scariest images for me was the realization that the locks on the Somme at Abbeville became completely blocked by bloated bodies of French soldiers that floated down the Somme over weeks (p. 180). Further, as fascinating as the idea of introducing tanks is, discovering that one of the first tanks deployed on the Somme actually strafed a trench of British soldiers instead of Germans (p. 276). On another occasion, German corpses were so thick on a trench floor that there was no way to cross without stepping on even their faces. When a soldier hesitated and stated that he didn’t want to have to step on their faces, the officer yelled, “Never mind their bloody faces. MOVE!” (p. 286)
MacDonald does a marvelous job of showing the friction of combat, the follies of arrogance, the futility of war, the courage in humanity, the resilience of comrades-at-arms, and the obfuscation of politics, all within the confines of the campaign along the Somme. Somme is fast and fascinating reading at times, but one has to put it down fairly often just to absorb the enormity of the waste and injustice experienced by the youth of that generation. Somme is authentic enough that one cannot imagine any of it being sugar-coated.