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Something like a railway carriage

13 March 2010 in 1910s, Books, Phantom airships and other panics by Brett Holman | 4 comments

On the last night of January 1916, a large force of seven Zeppelins crossed over the Wash into Norfolk, heading for the industrial cities of the Midlands. Unsure of their location, most of them instead dropped their bombs on relatively unimportant targets. But at least they got home okay. The defending aircraft of the RFC and RNAS had an awful night: 22 sorties resulted in six aircraft being written off, two squadron commanders killed and no contacts with the enemy.

Or at least … no confirmed contacts with the enemy. Four pilots did report seeing something, but they were well to the south of the probable Zeppelin flightpaths, over London and Essex, and so their reports were dismissed by those higher-up as mistaken identities, phantom airships. At 7.40pm, Lieutenant R. S. Maxwell saw ‘an artificial light’ north of his B.E.2c while 10000 feet above London, and gave chase before losing it in clouds. 2nd Lieutenant C. A. Ridley, another B.E.2c pilot, also saw a ‘moving light’ over London at about the same time, and so they may have actually seen each other. Later in the night, at around 9pm, Flight Sub-Lieutenant H. McClelland (also flying a B.E.2c) also thought he saw ‘a Zeppelin’ by searchlight over London.

Strangest of all was the report of Flight Sub-Lieutenant J. E. Morgan, an RNAS pilot who sortied in his B.E.2c from Rochford in Essex at about a quarter to nine. At 5000 feet, slightly above and to starboard, he spotted

a row of what appeared to be lighted windows which looked something like a railway carriage with the blinds drawn.

(This is apparently a quote from Morgan’s after-action report.) Thinking that this was a Zeppelin only a hundred feet away — and presumably having no time to maneuver for a better shot — he fired his Webley at it! It then seemed that ‘the lights alongside rose rapidly’ and disappeared. Morgan then started looking for somewhere to land: he saw some lights below which he thought was Southend Pier but turned out to be a Dutch steamer off Thameshaven. He managed to put down safely and flew back to Rochford the following day.
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Acquisitions

26 February 2010 in Acquisitions, Books by Brett Holman | No comments

Nick Smart. Neville Chamberlain. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2010. I’m not a big reader of biographies, partly because they often aren’t ‘historical’ enough and partly because they usually aren’t about the people I’m interested in. This one satisfies on both counts.

In the next war

23 February 2010 in 1930s, Books by Brett Holman | 11 comments

‘In the Next War’ was a short series of books published in Britain in 1938 and 1939, edited by Basil Liddell Hart. Unlike the earlier To-day and To-morrow books which attempted to predict things to come, these were much less eclectic and much more narrowly focused on future warfare: airpower; seapower; tanks, infantry and the Territorials; gas, civilians and propaganda. The actual arrival of the next war in 1939 seems to have cut the series short, as two of these were never published (those on infantry and, to my regret, civilians).

The authors were also drawn from a more select group, as they mostly seem to have had prior credentials in their subjects (not always the case with ‘To-day and To-morrow’, where the ability to come up with an interesting take seems to have been at least as important as expertise). J. M. Spaight was a prolific writer on airpower, and late of the Air Ministry; Jonathan Griffin had written a couple of widely read books on similar topics (and also editor of Essential News and, oddly enough, translator of Babar the Elephant) which suggests to me that his book on civilians would have focused on ARP. (Both Spaight and Griffin were now more-or-less sceptical of the knock-out blow paradigm.) Most of the other authors were or had been in the services, mostly in the Army. Henry Thuiller had been head of the wartime Trench Warfare Supply Department (which had a responsibility for manufacture of chemical weapons), while Eric Dorman-Smith was to have a controversial career in the next war, but in the last one had served with distinction and in the meantime had experience with the Army’s experiments with mechanised warfare. Sidney Rogerson was the author of Twelve Days, a popular memoir of the Somme, but I’m not sure what his qualifications for writing on propaganda were. Eric Sheppard had written a couple of books on the American Civil War, as well as what looks like a military history study guide for Sandhurst. Russell Grenfell had served in the Royal Navy and was a veteran of Jutland; he already had a number of books on naval matters to his credit (and in 1940 wrote under the pseudonym T 124, arguing that with adequate sea- and airpower, the capture of the Low Countries by a hostile nation was nothing to fear). I don’t know much about Green; as he had a DFC he must have been in the RFC/RAF but here he is writing about the Territorials, with which he must have had some connection. His volume was actually advertised in advance as being by the Deputy Director General of the Territorial Army, Sir John Brown, but perhaps he had to turn this down due to his official position.

From the little I’ve read of it, I think ‘In the Next War’ is an interesting series, so I’ve put up a short bibliography. It certainly presents a very different take on the future than that of ‘To-day and To-morrow’: rather than bright and exciting, it was going to be bloody. But that the future was still thought worth writing about still reflects a faith that there probably would, after all, be some sort of world worth to live and die for.

A Japanese death ray?

24 January 2010 in 1930s, 1940s, Books by Brett Holman | 11 comments

If anyone came close to creating a death ray weapon by the end of the Second World War, it was the Japanese army. It wouldn’t have helped them much, however, as they weren’t at war with rabbits. According to Richard Overy in The Air War 1939-1945 (Washington: Potomac Books, 2005 [1980]), 195:

The lack of satisfactory evaluative machinery led for example to the diversion of considerable resources to the search for a ‘death ray’; a search that Western powers had abandoned in the 1930s. By the end of the war the Japanese ‘ray’ could kill a rabbit after five minutes at a distance of 1,000 yards.

The reference Overy gives for this is the U.S. Strategic Bombing Survey, report 15, appendix XX, but this appears to be in error as that’s online and has only ten appendices. According to this site, report 63 (Japanese Air Weapons and Tactics) does in fact discuss the death ray. Unfortunately I can’t find that one (not for free, any way).
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To-day and to-morrow

10 January 2010 in 1920s, 1930s, Books, International air force, Nuclear, biological, chemical, Space by Brett Holman | 5 comments

[Cross-posted at Cliopatria.]

‘To-day and To-morrow’ was a series of over a hundred essays on ‘the future’ of a diverse range of subjects, which were published in pamphlet form by Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co. between 1924 and 1931. The authors are equally varied: some were acknowledge experts in their fields, others seem to have been chosen for their ability to provoke. Some of the ‘To-day and To-morrow’ essays have since attained classic status; most have been forgotten. But as a whole they are an impressive testimony to a vibrant, wideranging (and idiosyncatic) kind of British futurism, and I think they deserve more attention. Some of them have been reprinted from time to time, and if you’re rich you can both nearly all of them in collected volumes through Routledge, but otherwise there are so many they are are hard to track down. So I’ve tried to compile a definitive list of the series’ titles (which are mostly classical allusions) with links to online sources for the texts and some sort of author biography, where available. Google Books has many of them, but only snippets or previews, so I’ve linked to other sources where possible. Additions and corrections are welcome.

Physically, they were very small books (pott octavo, to be precise), easy to slip into a pocket, and numbered only a hundred pages or so, in large type and generous margins. Their price was 2/6, about the same price as a cheap novel, but five times the price of the later, hugely successful Penguins. So they did not attract a mass readership, but do seem to have been much read by the chattering classes. (See Peter J. Bowler, Science for All: The Popularization of Science in Early Twentieth-Century Britain (Chicago and London: Chicago University Press, 2009), 139.) Many of the titles went through multiple impressions. And at least one was discussed in the House of Commons.
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The war with Eurasia/Eastasia

31 December 2009 in 1940s, Books, Cold War, Nuclear, biological, chemical by Brett Holman | 21 comments

Just as when reading Brave New World I applied my airminded filters and extracted Aldous Huxley’s vision of future warfare, I’m going to do the same for that other great British dystopia, George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. (Which is what passes for summer reading for me. Quotes taken from this version.)

War is much more important in Orwell’s novel than in Huxley’s: it’s constantly referred to throughout the novel, and it turns out to be a crucial part of the Party’s method for maintaining its control of Oceania. Assuming that there actually is a war, that is, and the whole thing isn’t just fabricated for that very purpose. War is peace, after all.

But let’s assume that Winston Smith’s memories and experiences of war reflect some objective reality. Then there are two phases, the war of his youth, and the current, never-ending war, with the Revolution in between. Smith was probably born in 1945, presumably named after Churchill in that year of victory. There were some years of peace, and then a war in the mid-1950s, probably with the Soviet Union and its satellites. Britain seems to have been the only the country in Western Europe not conquered at this time, and absorbed into what was to become Eurasia. But it — renamed Airstrip One — became part of Oceania, along with the Americas, southern Africa, and Australasia. A third power, Eastasia, emerged after the end of the civil wars in China.
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Odd plane out

29 December 2009 in 1940s, Aircraft, Art, Books, Ephemera, Pictures by Brett Holman | 8 comments

Which People's War
I recently read Sonya O. Rose’s Which People’s War? National Identity and Citizenship in Wartime Britain, 1939-1945 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), which is interesting on such subjects as anti-Semitism during the Blitz. But I kept being drawn back to the front cover, for a completely trivial reason. The illustration is from a 1941 poster designed by Philip Zec (the Daily Mirror’s political cartoonist), ‘Women of Britain, come into the factories’. The bombers in flying in the stream over the woman’s head are clearly highly stylised, and nearly all identical. But one of them is different, the one above her right arm. In the following close-up, it’s the one on the far left:
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The superweapon and the Anglo-American imagination — IV

6 December 2009 in 1900s, 1910s, 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, Books by Brett Holman | 98 comments

So we’ve seen American claims of a British secret air defence weapon in the Battle of Britain; American claims of British secret air defence weapons in the mid-1930s; and American ideas for superweapons to break the deadlock of the First World War. What do I mean suggest by these examples? Why have I called these posts ‘The superweapon and the Anglo-American imagination’?

Actually, the phrase ‘Anglo-American imagination’ is misleading, because I think the British and the American imaginations were significantly different, at least when it comes to technology and war. And the difference is this: at least in the period of the two world wars, Americans found it much easier to imagine that technology could help them win wars than the British, who were more pessimistic and tended to see new technologies as a threat. It’s easy to get into trouble with big generalisations like this, and I definitely can’t quantify it in any useful way. But I don’t think it’s accidental that it American journalists imagined British superweapons more readily than British journalists, or that American science magazines had superweapons on their covers, and British ones didn’t.
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Acquisitions

27 November 2009 in Acquisitions, Books by Brett Holman | 3 comments

Peter J. Bowler. Science for All: The Popularization of Science in Early Twentieth-Century Britain. Chicago and London: Chicago University Press, 2009. How and what the public learned about science was important in an age of technological warfare, and this has a decent number of entries in the index under ‘military applications of science’.

Tom Buchanan. The Impact of the Spanish Civil War on Britain: War, Loss and Memory. Brighton and Portland: Sussex Academic Press, 2007. A collection of essays by Buchanan, including a couple on George Steer (of Guernica fame) and John Langdon-Davies (of Barcelona less-fame).

Marion Girard. A Strange and Formidable Weapon: British Responses to World War I Poison Gas. Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 2008. Covers both military and civilian responses to gas, and the final chapter looks at the public debate about gas between the wars. Wish I’d had this a year ago!

Peter Sloterdijk. Terror from the Air. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), 2009. Sloterdijk — not a historian, but an intellectual — argues that the 20th century started on 22 April 1915 at Ypres, i.e. because of the use of poison gas. Trivia: this is the first book I’ve ever bought which was published in Los Angeles.

Acquisitions

6 November 2009 in Acquisitions, Books by Brett Holman | No comments

Christopher Andrew. The Defence of the Realm: The Authorized History of MI5. London: Allen Lane, 2009. Most valuable for me on the Edwardian spy mania, but looks like a fun read for the rest of the thousand-odd pages.

R. V. Jones. Most Secret War: British Scientific Intelligence 1939-1945. London: Penguin, 2009 [1978]. A reprint of this important autobiography; no doubt it’s been superseded as a history of the wizard war but at the time it was groundbreaking.

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