Whereas there is an abundance of sources available
regarding the decisions and activities at the top of the strategic chain of
command, considerably less survives at the bottom. The behaviors expected of
the soldiers by their political and military leaders exert ‘overwhelming
dominance over the archival record.’ Therefore, ‘the influence of an
authority-generated model’ for understanding warfare, and history for that
matter, ‘persists even in the most innovative works.’ In this sense, it is not
surprising that the role of Winston Churchill, and other war leaders, and the
decisions of senior commanders in the field, dominate the history of the Second
World War. In a similar vein, it is the records related to the size of armies,
the movement of men and machines and the productive capacities of combatant
nations that mostly survive in archives. The accessibility of such records
facilitates the portrayal of war as a complex game of chess, where the
interplay between numbers, tactics and ruses decides the outcome of events.
The great military philosopher, Carl von Clausewitz, was not the first to criticize such a mechanistic and potentially deterministic understanding of history. Military practitioners and theorists have long emphasized the relevance of ordinary men in battle, of ‘unquantifiable’ and ‘intangible’ factors. Scholars have addressed the challenge of integrating the ‘unquantifiable’ and ‘intangible’ into the history of war in a number of ways. Some works on, for instance, the German and American armies in the Second World War, use attitudinal surveys to illuminate the experience of the citizen soldier at particular places and periods of time. Such studies, however, are few and far between and their findings are often highly contextualized; their relevance to understanding the attitudes and behavior of combatants more generally in the Second World War is limited. Most other studies use personal recollections and memoirs to provide impressions of troops and dynamics within units, but these sources suffer from serious methodological shortcomings, not least the fallibility of individuals’ memories, especially where interviews take place decades after the event; additionally, prevailing cultural and social interpretations of the meaning of events can often distort the recollections of historical actors. Contemporary recorded diaries or letters are more reliable as historical sources, but it is often difficult to amass a representative sample of such sources for an army. Moreover, as sources they tend by their very nature to be unrepresentative. Men ‘who were predisposed to keep detailed accounts of their military service were generally better educated and more articulate than their comrades, which means that they were more likely to be officers and also, perhaps, more likely to hold idiosyncratic views about the Army.’
This book circumvents these problems by leveraging the processes that the British and Commonwealth Armies themselves used for assessing the personal concerns of troops, their broad social and political perspectives, and their willingness to fight. It interrogates sources such as censorship summaries (of soldiers’ mail), morale reports and official statistics on rates of sickness, battle exhaustion, desertion, absence without leave and self inflicted wounds. Many of these sources are newly discovered or have been underused in existing accounts. For example, 925 censorship summaries, based on 17 million letters sent between the battle and home fronts during the war are used in this book . . .
Censorship was undoubtedly unpopular with many troops but within the regulations, correspondents retained ‘their right’; to ‘express freely their own opinions’ and, indeed, according to the War Office, ‘most writers seemed to forget the censor, whether the base censor or their officer – when they write.’ . . . [Furthermore] the use of censorship allowed the Army to react with great speed to the needs of the men. Those in charge of unit and base censorship, on learning of a defect or problem, would write to officers in command of units and formations. These interventions would typically lead to concrete action to address concerns. Divisions, battalions, companies and platoons in need of cigarettes, clothing, better equipment, leadership, or rest, would be identified through censorship and action would be taken . . .
Fighting The People’s War [End Note]
The story that emerges from this study of the British and Commonwealth Armies in the Second World War is far more radical and challenging that that which is found in much of the public discourse. While there can be little doubt that the majority of soldiers did their duty in the war, not least the 217,809 who lost their lives, others mutinied, some ran away, surrendered too readily or broke down under pressure. It is important that such observations should not be construed as criticism of the natural courage of the average British and Commonwealth soldier. Given the extraordinary and terrifying sacrifices that were demanded and expected of ordinary young men, it is hardly surprising, in the prevailing socio-economic circumstances, that the largely working- and lower-middle class individuals that made up the vast majority of the Army would have, at times, failed to live up to the martial ideal. Unequal, class-conscious societies breed disengaged and under-motivated citizen soldiers. The blame for the ‘great imperial crisis’ of 1940- to 1942, or the rather ‘sluggish’; operations of 1943 and 1944, does not lie dominantly with the institution of the Army or the ordinary citizen soldiers, but to a very large extent with the political classes and the British and Commonwealth sites more generally. It was the British Imperial system, of which the armed forces were just one part ,that was to blame for the loss of Britain’s place in the world.
The great military philosopher, Carl von Clausewitz, was not the first to criticize such a mechanistic and potentially deterministic understanding of history. Military practitioners and theorists have long emphasized the relevance of ordinary men in battle, of ‘unquantifiable’ and ‘intangible’ factors. Scholars have addressed the challenge of integrating the ‘unquantifiable’ and ‘intangible’ into the history of war in a number of ways. Some works on, for instance, the German and American armies in the Second World War, use attitudinal surveys to illuminate the experience of the citizen soldier at particular places and periods of time. Such studies, however, are few and far between and their findings are often highly contextualized; their relevance to understanding the attitudes and behavior of combatants more generally in the Second World War is limited. Most other studies use personal recollections and memoirs to provide impressions of troops and dynamics within units, but these sources suffer from serious methodological shortcomings, not least the fallibility of individuals’ memories, especially where interviews take place decades after the event; additionally, prevailing cultural and social interpretations of the meaning of events can often distort the recollections of historical actors. Contemporary recorded diaries or letters are more reliable as historical sources, but it is often difficult to amass a representative sample of such sources for an army. Moreover, as sources they tend by their very nature to be unrepresentative. Men ‘who were predisposed to keep detailed accounts of their military service were generally better educated and more articulate than their comrades, which means that they were more likely to be officers and also, perhaps, more likely to hold idiosyncratic views about the Army.’
This book circumvents these problems by leveraging the processes that the British and Commonwealth Armies themselves used for assessing the personal concerns of troops, their broad social and political perspectives, and their willingness to fight. It interrogates sources such as censorship summaries (of soldiers’ mail), morale reports and official statistics on rates of sickness, battle exhaustion, desertion, absence without leave and self inflicted wounds. Many of these sources are newly discovered or have been underused in existing accounts. For example, 925 censorship summaries, based on 17 million letters sent between the battle and home fronts during the war are used in this book . . .
Censorship was undoubtedly unpopular with many troops but within the regulations, correspondents retained ‘their right’; to ‘express freely their own opinions’ and, indeed, according to the War Office, ‘most writers seemed to forget the censor, whether the base censor or their officer – when they write.’ . . . [Furthermore] the use of censorship allowed the Army to react with great speed to the needs of the men. Those in charge of unit and base censorship, on learning of a defect or problem, would write to officers in command of units and formations. These interventions would typically lead to concrete action to address concerns. Divisions, battalions, companies and platoons in need of cigarettes, clothing, better equipment, leadership, or rest, would be identified through censorship and action would be taken . . .
Fighting The People’s War [End Note]
The story that emerges from this study of the British and Commonwealth Armies in the Second World War is far more radical and challenging that that which is found in much of the public discourse. While there can be little doubt that the majority of soldiers did their duty in the war, not least the 217,809 who lost their lives, others mutinied, some ran away, surrendered too readily or broke down under pressure. It is important that such observations should not be construed as criticism of the natural courage of the average British and Commonwealth soldier. Given the extraordinary and terrifying sacrifices that were demanded and expected of ordinary young men, it is hardly surprising, in the prevailing socio-economic circumstances, that the largely working- and lower-middle class individuals that made up the vast majority of the Army would have, at times, failed to live up to the martial ideal. Unequal, class-conscious societies breed disengaged and under-motivated citizen soldiers. The blame for the ‘great imperial crisis’ of 1940- to 1942, or the rather ‘sluggish’; operations of 1943 and 1944, does not lie dominantly with the institution of the Army or the ordinary citizen soldiers, but to a very large extent with the political classes and the British and Commonwealth sites more generally. It was the British Imperial system, of which the armed forces were just one part ,that was to blame for the loss of Britain’s place in the world.
The British and Commonwealth Armies, in fact,
demonstrated a remarkable ability to reform and adapt their doctrine, training
regimes and management of manpower in the extraordinary challenging situation
that unfolded between 1939 and 1945. Had the complex array of state systems
that made up the British Empire demonstrated a similar willingness and ability
to reflect and reform, issues with morale and combat performance might not have
developed to the same extent.
In the end, a sufficiently large number of key individuals in the British and Commonwealth Armies, such as Montgomery, Adam, Auchinleck and Slim, came to understand the character of the challenge faced in the Second World War. Strategy was iterative and multi-levelled, a decision-making continuum where decisions on means and ends at each level affected decisions on means and ends at all other levels; strategy could be driven from below to the same extent as it was defined at the top [1]. This insight escaped some national leaders, including Churchill, with profound consequences. In his obsession with defeating Germany, the Prime Minister lost sight of the goals and ambitions of the ordinary man, the smallest cog in the ‘machinery of strategy’, but a vital one all the same. For the citizen soldier, the war was not an end in itself; it was a step towards a greater aspiration, political and social reform. To endure, power had to be built on a bedrock of justice and social cohesion [2].
A critical understanding of the place of the Second World War in British and Commonwealth history is perhaps now more than ever important,. The dominant narrative, which characterizes the British and Commonwealth soldier as stolid, but apolitical and uninterested in the broader meaning of the war, encourages the perception that the outcome of these great events were in the hands of a small group of elite and powerful persons,. The soldier, in this version of history, lacks agency; he appears as a paw in the games of great men. The reality was really quite different,; bitter contestation characterized much of the interaction between the state and the individual and from that interaction, the post-war settlement was forged. The censorship summaries and morale reports indicate that the war made soldiers more aware of the limits of individualism and the degree to which they were dependent on their fellow citizens for prosperity, security and well-being. As General Alan Brooke, who would become Chief of the Imperial General Staff, wrote in October 1940, through all the ‘destruction, uselessness and havoc I can see some progress’:
Progress that could never be achieved without the upheaval of war. Long standing institutions and social distinctions are shattered by war and make room for more modern methods of life. Those that would never release what they hold in peace, are forced to do so in war, to the benefit of the multitude. Ultimately I suppose that human beings from much suffering will become wiser and will appreciate that greater happiness can be found in this world by preferring their neighbors to themselves.
Brooke understood that almost every aspect of the soldiers’ lives required cooperation, sharing and teamwork; extreme individualism or selfish behavior was not only undesirable and inefficient in times of war but potentially life threatening.
The war demonstrated the extent to which combat effectiveness was dependent on the cohesion of British and Commonwealth societies. It was also apparent that the experience of the front line had spawned a dynamic desire for reform, that the troops yearned for the camaraderie and equality of the battlefront to be present on their return home to ‘civvy street.’ The great political awaking as a consequence of the war was to have profound implications for the future of the Empire and the socio-political history of all the British and Commonwealth countries.
[1] Montgomery, for example, adjusted his strategies to conform to the levels of morale and training of the troops at hand, he did not ‘ask them to do more than could be reasonably expected of them.’ At times they might be expected to perform well in static defensive positions but not in aggressive offensive operations that require independent initiative on a unit by unit basis, and thus higher levels of motivation. Likewise, it is one thing to ‘break into’ the defensive positions of the enemy, it is another to to ‘break out’, through and around the enemy.
[2] ‘It was only after the battle of France, as a genuine threat to national survival emerged, that the desire to imbue the war greater meaning began to take coherent form in the public discourse. A much-quoted Times leader in July 1940:
If we speak of democracy, we do not mean a democracy that maintains the right to vote but forgets the right to work and the right to live. If we speak of freedom, we do not mean a rugged individualism which excludes social organization and economic planning. If we speak of equality we do not mean a political equality nullified by social and economic privilege. If we speak of economic reconstruction, we think less of maximum production (though this too will be required) than of equitable distribution.
The crisis of 1940 was much more than a military crisis; it was a ‘political-military’ crisis.( low moral in the British Army contributed significantly to the defeat- ‘airbrushed’ out of history by the successful evacuation at Dunkirk when Hitler inexplicably ordered his troops to stop their advance.). It has the effect of undoing Conservative dominance in Parliament ( Churchill had to take Labor into his cabinet), but also ‘;of radicalizing much of the population. Before May 1940, little had been asked of the British people by the state; as a consequence, ‘little was given’ in return. From that moment, ‘attitudes changed’ . . .but not Churchill’s, he insisted on postponing reform until after the war, at which point he was rewarded by being thrown out of office.
In the end, a sufficiently large number of key individuals in the British and Commonwealth Armies, such as Montgomery, Adam, Auchinleck and Slim, came to understand the character of the challenge faced in the Second World War. Strategy was iterative and multi-levelled, a decision-making continuum where decisions on means and ends at each level affected decisions on means and ends at all other levels; strategy could be driven from below to the same extent as it was defined at the top [1]. This insight escaped some national leaders, including Churchill, with profound consequences. In his obsession with defeating Germany, the Prime Minister lost sight of the goals and ambitions of the ordinary man, the smallest cog in the ‘machinery of strategy’, but a vital one all the same. For the citizen soldier, the war was not an end in itself; it was a step towards a greater aspiration, political and social reform. To endure, power had to be built on a bedrock of justice and social cohesion [2].
A critical understanding of the place of the Second World War in British and Commonwealth history is perhaps now more than ever important,. The dominant narrative, which characterizes the British and Commonwealth soldier as stolid, but apolitical and uninterested in the broader meaning of the war, encourages the perception that the outcome of these great events were in the hands of a small group of elite and powerful persons,. The soldier, in this version of history, lacks agency; he appears as a paw in the games of great men. The reality was really quite different,; bitter contestation characterized much of the interaction between the state and the individual and from that interaction, the post-war settlement was forged. The censorship summaries and morale reports indicate that the war made soldiers more aware of the limits of individualism and the degree to which they were dependent on their fellow citizens for prosperity, security and well-being. As General Alan Brooke, who would become Chief of the Imperial General Staff, wrote in October 1940, through all the ‘destruction, uselessness and havoc I can see some progress’:
Progress that could never be achieved without the upheaval of war. Long standing institutions and social distinctions are shattered by war and make room for more modern methods of life. Those that would never release what they hold in peace, are forced to do so in war, to the benefit of the multitude. Ultimately I suppose that human beings from much suffering will become wiser and will appreciate that greater happiness can be found in this world by preferring their neighbors to themselves.
Brooke understood that almost every aspect of the soldiers’ lives required cooperation, sharing and teamwork; extreme individualism or selfish behavior was not only undesirable and inefficient in times of war but potentially life threatening.
The war demonstrated the extent to which combat effectiveness was dependent on the cohesion of British and Commonwealth societies. It was also apparent that the experience of the front line had spawned a dynamic desire for reform, that the troops yearned for the camaraderie and equality of the battlefront to be present on their return home to ‘civvy street.’ The great political awaking as a consequence of the war was to have profound implications for the future of the Empire and the socio-political history of all the British and Commonwealth countries.
[1] Montgomery, for example, adjusted his strategies to conform to the levels of morale and training of the troops at hand, he did not ‘ask them to do more than could be reasonably expected of them.’ At times they might be expected to perform well in static defensive positions but not in aggressive offensive operations that require independent initiative on a unit by unit basis, and thus higher levels of motivation. Likewise, it is one thing to ‘break into’ the defensive positions of the enemy, it is another to to ‘break out’, through and around the enemy.
[2] ‘It was only after the battle of France, as a genuine threat to national survival emerged, that the desire to imbue the war greater meaning began to take coherent form in the public discourse. A much-quoted Times leader in July 1940:
If we speak of democracy, we do not mean a democracy that maintains the right to vote but forgets the right to work and the right to live. If we speak of freedom, we do not mean a rugged individualism which excludes social organization and economic planning. If we speak of equality we do not mean a political equality nullified by social and economic privilege. If we speak of economic reconstruction, we think less of maximum production (though this too will be required) than of equitable distribution.
The crisis of 1940 was much more than a military crisis; it was a ‘political-military’ crisis.( low moral in the British Army contributed significantly to the defeat- ‘airbrushed’ out of history by the successful evacuation at Dunkirk when Hitler inexplicably ordered his troops to stop their advance.). It has the effect of undoing Conservative dominance in Parliament ( Churchill had to take Labor into his cabinet), but also ‘;of radicalizing much of the population. Before May 1940, little had been asked of the British people by the state; as a consequence, ‘little was given’ in return. From that moment, ‘attitudes changed’ . . .but not Churchill’s, he insisted on postponing reform until after the war, at which point he was rewarded by being thrown out of office.
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