“The war may have originated in the Balkans, but a sense of unfinished business hung over the main participants in the west. Germany would use the war as an opportunity to knock out a dangerous and implacable rival, while France was committed to avenging the humiliation of 1870, when Prussian forces had defeated the armies of Napoleon III’s Second Empire in a series of bloody set-piece battles. When the German Empire was proclaimed in the Hall of Mirrors in the Palace of Versailles in January 1871, uniting the German states under Prussian leadership, it marked a sea change in the European balance of power. France, now the Third Republic, lost the eastern province of Alsace and most of Lorraine and was forced to pay a vast indemnity…But France never forgot her ‘lost provinces,’ and the call to recover them was a persistent refrain in the years leading up to 1914…”
- Nick Lloyd, The Western Front: A History of the Great War, 1914-1918
Nick Lloyd’s The Western Front is the opening volume of a planned trilogy on the First World War. Unlike most multivolume histories, however, Lloyd is not executing his vision chronologically, but geographically, dividing the sprawling war into various “fronts.” It is an interesting way to go about things, and comes with its own advantages and disadvantages.
On the plus side, you get a completed story arc, following the western war from beginning to end.
The disadvantage – which I think outweighs the positive – is that you get only a fleeting sense of the interconnectedness of the war. Indeed, I’d go so far as to say that Lloyd’s method is emblematic of this book’s failure to really hit its mark. I don’t want to be mistaken: I liked The Western Front. Alas, going into this, I was looking for something to love. Instead, a vague sense of disappointment trailed me throughout.
The trouble, in my opinion, starts with Lloyd’s decision to thrust us almost instantly into the war. He uses only four-and-a-half pages to describe both the vast, immensely convoluted context that created the conditions for the First World War, and the fascinatingly intricate political maneuverings of the July Crisis, which assured that the assassination of a royal heir in a European backwater would explode in a worldwide conflagration.
At a certain level, I get it. Lloyd is presenting a military history. Nevertheless, as Lloyd himself acknowledges, you cannot separate politics from war. They are two limbs of the same tree. Knowing that, he gives you just enough of the politics to remind you that you’re missing out on a lot more. Furthermore, on a pure storytelling level, the abrupt opening is jarring. Before any time is spent giving the lay of the land, introducing the characters, or dealing with preliminaries, we are already at the siege of Liège.
The Western Front presents the war mainly from a strategic and operational level. When Lloyd talks about troop movements, he is generally discussing either armies, corps, or divisions. Even at the corps or divisional level, though, he writes in broad strokes and focuses on large objectives. This is generally helpful if you are a newcomer to the war, since it avoids the tangled alphabet soup of units moving hither and yon, capturing tiny villages or locally prominent hills. Unlike your typical narrative of the Battle of the Marne, for instance, which can make you go cross-eyed with all the marching, countermarching, and shifting lines, Lloyd lays things out with an emphasis on the bottom line. Still, by maintaining a high-level point-of-view, you lose any visceral sense of what the ordinary soldiers had to endure.
Though this is not Lloyd’s fault, I feel it necessary to add a sidenote about the maps. In short, they do not do enough to support the text. They are all static, showing only the positions of the front lines, and the armies, without ever demonstrating the movements taken in a particular battle. This made it hard to follow Lloyd when he sketched out the flow of particular clashes, such as Verdun or the Somme.
For the most part, I appreciated the scale at which Lloyd observes the war. He focuses on the big picture, and occasionally spices it up with a description of the conditions faced by the common soldier. Lloyd also does a nice job of highlighting the shift in tactics as the conflict progressed. One of his theses – which did not entirely convince me – was that the commanding generals of the First World War were more flexible and adaptable than given credit. Rather than donkeys leading lions, Lloyd suggests that the generals did a solid job of perfecting bloody butchery. Artillery, for example, improved throughout the four years in the west, moving from smaller calibers and widespread shell shortages to “hurricane bombardments,” creeping barrages, and increasingly accurate counterbattery fire. Lloyd also discusses Germany’s rather devious use of two-pronged gas attacks. First, the Germans would fire a “mask breaker” gas, something that would cause soldiers to vomit or sneeze, and thus tear off their masks. Once the soldiers were unmasked, they’d send over the lethal stuff, the phosgene or the chlorine.
In keeping with the top-down theme, Lloyd spends all his time with the generals. There are strikingly few first-person accounts from the soldiers themselves. Like a loyal aide, Lloyd sticks close to Generals French, Haig, Joffre, Foch, Petain, Hindenburg, and Ludendorff. While Lloyd makes some attempts to personalize them, he never really makes them individuals. It’s unfair to compare Lloyd to Barbara Tuchman, but when I read Lloyd’s description of General Joffre, and remembered Tuchman’s sparkling characterization of him in The Guns of August, it struck me that there is quite a big gap. The one thing that will stay with me is the enormous stress these men were under. Almost all of the major commanders – the confusingly-named French, Haig, Petain, von Moltke, and Ludendorff – had moments when they broke down, psychologically ravaged. Some recovered, others did not.
A single volume, even one focused on a single portion of a war, is going to have gaps. Here, certain events – such as the “Race to the Sea” after the halting of the German invasion on the Marne – are barely mentioned. Meanwhile, the war at sea is given only the most cursory glance.
According to the back flap of The Western Front, Lloyd is “one of Britain’s new generation of military historians.” I’m not sure exactly what this means, except that it seems to require one to wear a suit without a tie. Still, despite the complaints I’ve mentioned, I would be remiss if I did not mention Lloyd’s easy readability. If not memorable, the prose is clear, the flow is smooth. This is not nothing. I don’t mean to single out John Keegan, who seems to hold a special place in a lot of hearts, but reading a Keegan sentence is often like walking through barbed wire, constantly snagging on multiple clauses and commas. The Western Front – leaving aside the grim subject matter – was a pleasant reading experience. The five-hundred pages of text flew by quite speedily for me.
The Western Front is a bit of a “tweener.” As a popular history directed at readers mostly unfamiliar with the war, it gives a solid, eagle-eyed perspective. Nevertheless, by reducing the Eastern Front, the Middle East, and the Balkans to brief remarks (to be covered at more depth in later volumes), someone who is not at least somewhat familiar with Tannenberg and Gallipoli might find themselves a bit confused. Meanwhile, having read a fair share of First World War books, I sometimes found myself searching in vain for some new insight. In short, The Western Front struggles to find the balance between accessibility and sophistication.
All that being said, the First World War is such a vast and enthralling subject that even a bad book is usually pretty good. This is nowhere near a bad book. More than that, it is only the initial act of a three-part series. Hopefully, once Lloyd’s project is complete, The Western Front will work even better as part of a larger whole.