Lest we forget

🕚
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn

At the going down of the sun...

And in the morning...

We will remember them

www.britishlegion.org.uk

1914-1918

And the band played Waltzing Matilda

GALLIPOLI was one of the greatest military failures of all time - and a nation-defining moment for Australia and New Zealand.

Devised by First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, and others within the British government, its intention was to break the horrific stalemate on the Western Front by launching a second line of attack against Germany's ally, the Ottoman Empire.

Instead, the eight-month campaign contrived to be fought in even worse conditions than Flanders as the allies lost heavily and the corpses piled up to rot on the beach.

Altogether, over 100,000 on both sides were killed. The Turkish, while strategically victorious, lost 56,643 lives, the British lost 34,072, and the French lost 9,798.

But Australia (8,709 deaths) and New Zealand (2,721 deaths) were disproportionally affected.

And so, while the British especially mourn losses at the Somme and the French do likewise with regards to Verdun, Australians and New Zealanders will never forget Gallipoli.

Now, in much the same way as 11 November allows for reflection in this country, Aussies and Kiwis commemorate the loss of servicemen from the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps on 25 April.

It is a public holiday in both countries known as ANZAC Day - and this year's memorial service was particularly poignant given it marked 100 years since the fateful battle began.

Rewinding back to 1915, the assault on the appropriately-named Cape Helles went wrong pretty much straightaway.

The allied troops were ill-prepared whereas the Turks had primed themselves well, having fully anticipated the invasion.

The hellish scene is described by Scottish-born, Australian-based folk singer Eric Bogle in his song, And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda.

Most notably covered by the Pogues on their 1985 album Rum, Sodomy & the Lash, Shane MacGowan spits out the lyrics in bitterness and disgust at the apparent cheapness of human life.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then turned all their faces away

Shock was indeed the overriding emotion in Australia and New Zealand as the two emerging nation states suffered a baptism of fire.

In Britain too, Gallipoli had major after-effects, not least on Churchill who was forced out of government.

The ruling Liberals were forced into coalition with the Conservatives and, soon after the war, lost power altogether, being consigned into opposition until the current coalition was formed in 2010.

Churchill, meanwhile, recovered his reputation a little by serving in the trenches of the Western Front. He would, of course, recover it fully 20 years later.

For the thousands of dead at Gallipoli, however, there was no time to recover.

World War One was less than a year old - but, with the fateful Race to the Sea and the subsequent failure of Gallipoli, it had already cost too many lives.

The concept of a Lost Generation had become a reality. RIP.

The awkward truth about the Christmas truce

THE CENTENARY of the Christmas truce in World War One has been rightly marked with a series of events and commemorations over the festive period.

It was, after all, an extraordinary event. Just think for a moment about the incredible bravery of soldiers on both the allied and German sides as they tentatively clambered out of their trenches to sing carols, exchange gifts and even play a little football. 

Of course, there can be no doubt that this actually happened. Thankfully, some first-hand accounts and photographs of meetings with the Germans have managed to survive the passage of time.

Nevertheless, an organised football match most probably did not occur. Instead, there would have been just a few small-scale kickabouts without anyone keeping score.

Yes, one of the little myths is that the Christmas truce was in some way a mass participation event.

The reality is that there were instead a scattered series of small-scale ceasefires with fighting carrying on as normal in many other areas of the Western Front. Indeed, at least 80 soldiers still died on Christmas Day itself.

Still, is it wrong that even these small-scale truces and their undoubted symbolism should be commemorated by professional bodies such as the Football Association?

Well, of course not. Even critics of the controversial Sainsbury's Christmas advert - with the supermarket accused of profiteering and disrespect - would at least admit it was a well-produced piece of cinema which has also raised funds for the Royal British Legion.

But the real problem with the Christmas truce as it is now being remembered by Sainsbury's and others is the saccharine context in which it is being presented.

Put bluntly, those same soldiers who had swapped gifts with the Germans on Christmas Day were more than likely shooting at them over the next few days - or perhaps they were the ones being shot at and killed.

Added to that, the war - which was originally meant to be over by Christmas - had of course barely begun. The literally entrenched positions following the Race to Sea had seen to that.

And so, with war clearly the order of the day, much of High Command was furious that the truces had taken place at all, fearing that fraternising with the enemy would lead to mutiny and surrender.

In fact, they would never happen again - and, when one soldier attempted to reprise a truce in 1915, he ended up being found guilty by a court martial.

Knowing this, it is understandable why the Christmas truce of 1914 has been so fondly remembered, and even romanticised.

But, while it is good that it has been remembered in its own right, the fact that the truces were the last recognisably great acts of humanity for the next four years is nothing really to celebrate.

For, while the truce represented the principle of goodwill to all men, the resumption of gunfire where it had ceased simply confirmed the worst outcome of 1914.

That the last chance for peace had indeed been lost and the lamps had already long gone out over Europe.

Lest we forget

AN EXCERPT from An Utterly Impartial History of Britain (or 2000 Years of Upper Class Idiots in Charge) by John O'Farrell.

The excerpt begins with a fictionalised conversation between an officer and his general:

'Message from reconnaissance, sir. The Germans are digging a trench.'
'A what?'
'A trench. You know, like a long hole in the ground, big enough for them all to take cover. Oh, and they've put a machine gun on the top.'
'OK. Well, why don't we dig one of those, and then we'll just take it from there.'

The Germans had made the discovery that became the key to the First World War: that the combination of trench and machine gun created a barrier that was even harder to get past than a GP's receptionist. The solution was simple; just go round the side. 
But then they build another trench. When the Germans attempted a counter-attack, the British and French built trenches too and then tried to bypass the Germans and thus occurred the so-called "race to the sea", during which each side repeatedly attempted to outflank the other until there was a line of trenches all the way from Switzerland to the English Channel.

'So now what do we do?'
'Er, hang on, let me read the orders from HQ... ah, here we are: we are all to "sit here for three-and-a-half years firing shells at each other until millions of people have died".'
'Well thank God our commanders know what they're doing.'

It is really quite difficult to extract any sort of humour from a conflict which would go on to kill 16 million people - but O'Farrell does well in these few paragraphs to highlight the sheer ridiculousness of the First World War.

By November 1914, 100 years ago, the early German offensive had failed and the Race to the Sea had finished. Trenches did indeed stretch from Switzerland to the North Sea across 400 miles of land, and casualties were already in their hundreds of thousands.

There was nowhere to go and the war should have ended there and then as a horrible idea, with questions asked as to whether it should have even started at all.

Instead, incredibly, the industrial-scale carnage continued hopelessly for another four years. By the end of it, nine million soldiers and seven millions civilians had died.

The poppy soon became a symbol to represent the lives which had been lost, its red hue having somehow sprung from the blood-scorched earth in the days after the guns fell silent.

It is in this way then that, while the poppy commemorates the dead, it also acts as a symbol of the promise of life and peace prevailing.

But, sadly, as present day conflicts rumble on around the world, it is a lesson which humankind is yet to heed.

And this is why we must revisit the Armistice each year in the hope that there will eventually be an end to war.

Lest we forget what that poppy is actually for.

Dulce et Decorum Est: the old Lie

Wilfred Owen (1893-1918), war poet and soldier

AT THIS exact hour, on this day, 100 years ago, Britain declared war on Germany. The decision would change the world forever.

The declaration came after Germany failed to respond to an ultimatum following its invasion of neutral Belgium on its way to France.

Britain had vowed to protect the neutrality of Belgium in the Treaty of London in 1839 - and the German non-response ended the concept of Britain's so-called "splendid isolation" in a wider Concert of Europe.

The Concert had kept the European major powers largely peaceful for almost 100 years after Napoleon was defeated.

But, from the late 19th century onwards, several treaties resulted in two major alliances being formed.

In 1879, the Dual Alliance between Germany and Austria-Hungary effectively attempted to protect the two Central Powers from invasion by Russia.

And, in 1882, Italy signed a similar deal with Germany and Austria-Hungary called the Triple Alliance.

On the other side, Russia formed an alliance with France in 1894 to protect herself against Germany and Austria-Hungary - before Britain then made agreements with both of its imperial rivals.

Yet, despite the growing tensions, the greatest tragedy of World War One is the fact that Europe very nearly came to peace in the build-up.

After all, there was nothing new about trouble in the Balkans, where the assassination of Austria-Hungary heir Archduke Franz Ferdinand by a Serbian nationalist had sparked the July Crisis.

Successive Balkan wars had taken place in 1912 and 1913 without the involvement of any of the five Great Powers. 

And, while a bloody skirmish between Austria-Hungary and Serbia was perhaps inevitable, a wider war was not.

That only became the case when Germany offered Austria-Hungary unconditional support in its decision to attack the Serbians who were then quickly supported by the Russian Tsar. 

Russia's alliance to France left Germany hemmed in - and so it made a pre-emptive move west through Belgium which, of course, brought in Britain. 

But, rather than mobilising troops under the principle of protecting Belgium, the war in Britain was 'marketed' as a patriotic duty and even as a grand adventure. 

War poet Wilfred Owen enlisted in 1915 and, after training in Essex, he was sent to war the following year. 

On the continent, however, Owen suffered a number of traumatic experiences.

He fell into a shell hole and became concussed, and was later blown high into the air by a trench mortar, spending several days lying out on an embankment among the remains of a fellow officer.

Soon afterwards, he was diagnosed as suffering from shell-shock and was sent back to Britain for hospital treatment in Edinburgh, where he met fellow poet Siegfried Sassoon.
 
By then, the horror of the war had become apparent to Owen - and he wrote several poems denouncing the futility of the conflict. 

These included Dulce et Decorum Est (pro patria mori) - a Latin phrase taken from the Roman lyrical poet Horace and his work Odes. 

The line can be roughly translated into English as "it is sweet and fitting to die for your country", something described as "the old Lie" by Owen. The full text of the poem is below:

Dulce et Decorum Est (1917)
Wilfred Owen
 
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 tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped 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.


Owen, nevertheless, rejoined the front-line in 1918, seeing it as his duty to ensure the horrific realities of trench and gas warfare continued to be told.

He was killed in action, aged 25, on 4 November 1918, exactly one week before the Armistice was signed.

Indeed, the news of his death reached his mother by telegram on Armistice Day as church bells rang out in celebration of the end of the war.

But, for her, and millions of others, there was nothing to celebrate.

Yorkshire ready for t'Grand Départ

Buttertub Pass, Yorkshire Dales

CHRIS FROOME begins the defence of his Tour de France title tomorrow as the world's biggest annual sporting event starts in the unfamiliar surroundings of Yorkshire.

It is actually not that unusual for the Grand Départ of Le Tour to take place outside of France - in fact, this will be the 20th occurrence since idea was first implemented in Amsterdam in 1954.

And, largely done for financial gain by aiming to spread interest in the event, this will be the fourth time that Le Tour has come to Britain.

In 1974, the race visited for the first time with a one-day circuit stage in Plymouth - while the other two previous occasions are both in the last 20 years.

In 1994, Le Tour celebrated the opening of the Channel Tunnel with stages in Dover and Portsmouth.

Meanwhile, in 2007, London hosted the Grand Départ with a prologue time-trial before a full stage to Canterbury in Kent the next day.

It seems quite appropriate in a way for Le Tour to begin in Britain this year considering this country's recent success in the event.

Indeed, after 99 editions without a British winner, the last two have been won by Sir Bradley Wiggins in 2012 and Kenya-born Froome last year.

Of course, this has had the consequent effect of producing a simmering rivalry between the Team Sky team-mates - and, to some discord, it is Wiggins who has been dropped from the squad for 2014.

Olympic champion Wiggins now seems certain to move onto pastures new - but Froome will not bother himself worrying about that: he has a maillot jaune to retain.

The maillot jaune - or yellow jersey - is won by the leader of the general classification, i.e. the rider who has taken, cumulatively, the least amount of time to complete the race.

The three other jerseys are the maillot blanc - the white jersey - used to denote the best-placed rider under 26 years of age; the maillot a pois - the polka-dot jersey - worn by the King of the Mountains, the rider who has performed best on the mountain stage; and the maillot vert - the green jersey.

The green jersey is given to the rider who has picked up the most points during Le Tour, gained by winning stages and being the first to reach various points along the route. It rewards consistently good finishers and is usually won by a sprinter.

Britain has also had success in this category in recent years with Mark Cavendish winning it in 2011.

The Manxman, who has 25 stage wins altogether, was also an overall runner-up in 2009, 2010 and last year. Slovakian Peter Sagan, who has won for the last two years, is the man to beat.

The route: from Yorkshire to Paris
To begin its latest visit to Britain, Le Tour sets off from Harewood in West Yorkshire after a ceremonial roll-out from the city of Leeds.

The opening day finishes in the pretty spa town of Harrogate before the riders reconvene in York city centre on Sunday for a tougher second stage to Sheffield.

On the way to the Steel City, the competitors will ride right through Bronte country, visiting Haworth itself and then later Holmfirth where the Last of the Summer Wine was set.

And, having survived the treacherous cross-winds across the moors, the field may be split again as they take on Jenkin Road in Sheffield, a notoriously steep hill with a 33% gradient.

The peloton get it easier on day three, a largely flat stage, which sets off from the famously cycle-friendly university city of Cambridge and finishes outside of Buckingham Palace on the Mall in London.

Instead, all the attention will be specifically on the sprinters - and Britain's Cavendish in particular.

Cavendish failed to feature on the Mall in the closing stages of the London 2012 Olympics road race - so this particular stage offers him a chance of redemption ahead of Le Tour's return to mainland Europe from stage four.

But, even with the move back across the Channel, the rest of the race will not be exclusively held in France.

Stage five begins in Ypres, Belgium, in a commemorative nod to the 100th anniversary of the outbreak of World War One.

And, just like in Sheffield, Le Tour can easily be lost early on here, as the riders nimbly take on nine cobbled sections, wary of punctures and skids.

On day six, there will be more World War One remembrance with a départ in Arras and finish in Reims - before the race heads into the Alps on stage 13.

Coming out of the Alps after just two days, most of the climbing action this year is actually set in the Pyrenees - with stage 16 heading off from Carcassonne, a beautiful fairytale-like walled town.

Then, just before the finish, there may be a late twist in the tale in a 54km time trial between Bergerac and Périgueux.

This is the only time trial of any kind on the 2014 circuit and offers the chasing pack one final chance of reeling in a leader ahead of the ceremonial final stage on the Champs Élysée in Paris.

It is a gruelling three weeks with no guarantees - so tune in to daily coverage on ITV4 and British Eurosport to find out if the champagne flows for Froome again.

STAGE BY STAGE Tour de France 2014

(1)	05-Jul	Leeds (UK) - Harrogate (UK)	191km
(2)	06-Jul	York (UK) - Sheffield (UK)	198km
(3)	07-Jul	Cambridge (UK) - London (UK)	159km
(4)	08-Jul	Le Touquet-Paris-Plage - Lille	164km
(5)	09-Jul	Ypres (BEL) - Arenberg Porte du Hainaut	156km
(6)	10-Jul	Arras - Reims	194km
(7)	11-Jul	Épernay - Nancy	233km
(8)	12-Jul	Tomblaine - Gérardmer La Mauselaine	161km
(9)	13-Jul	Gérardmer - Mulhouse	166km
(10)	14-Jul	Mulhouse - La Planche des Belles Filles	161km
(-)	15-Jul	Rest day
(11)	16-Jul	Besançon - Oyonnax	186km
(12)	17-Jul	Bourg-en-Bresse - Saint-Étienne	183km
(13)	18-Jul	Saint-Étienne - Chamrousse	200km
(14)	19-Jul	Grenoble - Risoul	177km
(15)	20-Jul	Tallard - Nîmes	222km
(-)	21-Jul	Rest day
(16)	22-Jul	Carcassonne - Bagnères-de-Luchon	237km
(17)	23-Jul	Saint Gaudens - Saint-Lary-Soulan Pla d'Adet	125km
(18)	24-Jul	Pau - Hautacam	145km
(19)	25-Jul	Maubourguet Pays du Val d'Adour - Bergerac	208km
(20)	26-Jul	Bergerac - Périgueux (time trial)	54km
(21)	27-Jul	Évry - Champs Élysée, Paris	136km