Winston Churchill was a master archivist who saved every letter, memo, directive, meeting minutes, resolution, public or private announcement—the list goes on—from his various times in the British government, in all the offices he occupied—First Lord of the Admiralty, Minister of Munitions, and later Prime Minister (twice). He used this material in full measure in compiling “The World Crisis”, a history of the Great War which, besides the main body of the work covering 1911-18, also includes “The Unknown War” dealing with the eastern front at great length, and “The Aftermath” dealing with the postwar years up to 1928.
While detailing the war’s background and most of the major (and many of the minor) battles in a general sense—with the greatest attention paid to, and detail included about, the conflicts in the planning and execution of which Churchill was personally involved—this work is most valuable for the way it showcases the inner workings of the British government and its military command at the highest level. Discussions of strategy, logistical planning, alternative courses of action, speculations on how critical events would have turned out had different plans been adopted, and (of course) the influence of party politics even the midst of national crisis (when, theoretically at least, this needed to be put aside for the sake of presenting a united front against the enemy!) are all fully portrayed. Also evident is Churchill’s skill at wearing several hats simultaneously: as diplomat, playing a part in holding the Allied coalition together and dealing with Asquith, Lloyd George, Kitchener, Haig, Joffre, Petain, Foch, Wilson, Pershing and many others; as strategist and tactician, as the major architect of the Dardanelles operation and having a role in the war against the U-Boats, the introduction of tanks and airplanes in combat, and how to equip and supply the hundreds of thousands of American troops flooding into France in 1918; as futurist, anticipating the continuation of the war into 1919, but with an air of confidence in eventual allied Victory; and finally, simply as a man of sensitivity and compassion. His horror and revulsion upon visiting the slaughterhouse battlefields of the Somme and Passchendaele are unmistakable. Many of his criticisms of how these battles could have been fought differently in order to minimize the horrendous casualties were not appreciated at the time and interpreted as mere armchair strategizing and attempts to gain political advantage even though they were made in the hope of avoiding needless loss of life. And to be sure, his oh-well-they-were-obsolete-ships-anyway attitude to the loss of HMS Ocean, HMS Indefatigable and other ships to the minefields at Gallipoli does seem a bit callous, and he seems hesitant to admit that the responsibility for the overall failure of that operation was largely his.
Most touching are his descriptions of the spontaneous pandemonium of joy and celebration that took place as Big Ben tolled 11 a.m. on November 11, 1918, and people poured into the streets and into Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus, dancing, waving flags—“it grew like a gale”, in his words—as they rushed to congratulate the King and Prime Minister; and, finally, the hope he expresses at the end of the work (written in 1931) that the world—especially Germany—had had enough, and that the sacrifices of nearly 20 million soldiers and civilians who perished or shed their blood had meant something, even as the ravaged fields and towns of France began to heal themselves or rebuild. He asks “Is this the end?” and hopes that the youth of Europe would not again be called upon to shed their blood. Sadly, he would have to take upon himself eventually the task of writing yet another history, the first volume of which would be called “The Gathering Storm”—since the thunderheads of the next cataclysm were already on the horizon even as the history of the previous one was concluded.
***** review by Chuck Graham *****