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The Price of Glory: Verdun 1916 by Sir…

The Price of Glory: Verdun 1916 (original 1962; edition 1979)

by Sir Alistair Horne

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6031416,217 (4.22)20
Title:The Price of Glory: Verdun 1916
Authors:Sir Alistair Horne
Info:Penguin Books (1979), Edition: Abridged, Paperback, 384 pages
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The Price of Glory: Verdun 1916 by Alistair Horne (1962)


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Popularly at least, the First World War is often seen as uniquely bad among wars and Verdun as its worst battle. In this middle volume of his trilogy on Franco-German military conflict from 1870 to 1940, [a:Alistair Horne|11016|Alistair Horne|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1231165127p2/11016.jpg] does an excellent job on both the levels which require success to make good military history. First, he clearly conveys the changing tactical picture of the battle. Second, he comes as close as it might be possible to recreate the experience of living and dying at Verdun between February and December 1916.

Horne is also unsparing in his strategic judgments. Condemned are Joffre, Falkenhayn, Haig (in asides), and Nivelle. Such heroes as emerge among the generals are Petain and the German Crown Prince.

More than fifty years after its first publication, this remains, perhaps, the best book on the battle of Verdun. ( )
  JohnPhelan | Oct 4, 2016 |
Travels badly in light of current historiography about the First World War. Unless of course one still believes the lions led by donkeys fallacy. ( )
  RobertP | Aug 7, 2016 |
This 1993 edition, reprinted & updated from the 1962 edition, has essentially remained the classic work on the Verdun battle of World War I. His narration of the February to December 1916 is stark & at times brutal in the scale of death meted out on both sides. It is definitely not timid reading. From the moment of conception in the mind of the German command staff to its disastrous consequences proved a microcosm of the entire First World War. Endless movement but little gains & counter losses only served to bleed both the French & the German armies to sheer exhaustion.
Here Horne presents both sides with equal candor with all the prejudices & overweening pride blinding both sides to the utter futility of what they were in the middle of. As the author demonstrates, war is a messy business & all the battle plans carefully thought out can be wrecked merely by nature or by sheer stupidity or by incredible timing.
More specifically, the French army was saddled with an inept high command, poor planning, failure to adjust to ever changing tactics resulting in the bleeding of the French army. It was not a surprise that the French army revolted but incredibly its rebellion was brutally crushed without mercy after the battle. The French army would not recover afterwards necessitating the infusion of the Americans, who came just in time to offset Hindenburg's assault in 1917, to hold up the front.
The German high command faced with shrinking windows of opportunity drew up a plan that might have worked except it relied on too narrow of a front, overreliance on 1 or 2 corps at a time, failure to assess possible issues, increasing inability to control the air for intelligence, & finally, indecisiveness of the Commander in Chief which added to a growing litany of mistakes & failure to adjust early on. (The Germans did adjust in the next battle but the French did not).
Mr. Horne has done a masterful job in his assessment of this battle which served no purpose but to extend the war far longer & left both France & Germany worse off than before the Battle of Verdun started. He carefully presents the players both the high command down to the soldiers on the field sympathetically. An excellent read for those who are interested in how the First World War was fought. ( )
  walterhistory | Jul 12, 2015 |
I have a Sick Child right now, which means I'm currently running on less than three hours' sleep. This feels to me like total exhaustion. Still, things could be a lot worse. It's been instructive to remind myself that French soldiers in the line at Verdun not uncommonly went eleven days without any rest at all. Although when I cheerfully reminded my wife of this fact at 4 a.m. she didn't seem to find it very reassuring.

Eleven days though! Imagine trying to confront an armed Brandenburger with that level of sleep-deprivation. Luckily, such an eventuality rarely came up: one of the most striking things about Verdun was the fact that you were unlikely ever to face up to the enemy, or even see him. All you had to do was wait until your turn in the front-line trenches, and then endure as much shelling as you could before you were eviscerated.

This perhaps sounds like some grimly comic exaggeration, but in fact the French commanders were quite explicit about the pointless deaths they expected from their men. General Nivelle's orders were to ‘Ne pas se rendre, ne pas reculer d'un pouce, se faire tuer sur place’, while one colonel told his troops: ‘On the day they want to, they will massacre you to the last man, and it is your duty to fall.’

As pep-talks go, that's not exactly the St. Crispin's Day speech from Henry V. In fact it's only a couple of rungs up from ‘Men, why don't all of you fuck off and die.’

What was it all about? Well, the Germans guessed rightly that France would never surrender Verdun, which was a key fortress-town near the front lines. They therefore reckoned that by attacking it continually, they would force the French to sacrifice themselves in order to prevent its loss: ‘the forces of France will bleed to death,’ in the words of the famous German memo, ‘whether we reach our goal or not.’

This subtle plan had, as Captain E. Blackadder would later put it, just one tiny flaw: it was bollocks. The problem was that the Germans attacking Verdun were compelled to haemorrhage troops almost as fast as the French. So you had both armies hurling great bodies of men at each other, both sides constantly decimated by extremely heavy artillery fire, all over an objective that the Germans never even seriously expected to win.

It was very quickly obvious that the whole affair was pointless; but, because of astonishingly limp leadership on both sides, it went on for fully ten months. At the end of which, the front line was in roughly the same place it had been at the beginning and three hundred thousand boys were dead.

As Paul Fussell has pointed out elsewhere, to call Verdun a ‘battle’ – as though this relentless endurance of shelling were remotely similar to Blenheim or Waterloo – is to give entirely the wrong impression. Men did not fight men at Verdun, or very rarely; instead, men were pitted against heavy artillery. They heard little but screaming shells and lived – if they were lucky – half-underground in trenches where the water was often waist-high. The ground had been churned up so many times that corpses were (to borrow a cooking term) folded in throughout, and body-parts protruded from the trench walls or confounded your spade when you tried to dig in.

The psychological effect of this on the soldiers is…well, it can hardly be imagined. One priest, Sergeant Dubrelle, wrote home with some decidedly un-Catholic feelings:

Having despaired of living amid such horror, we begged God not to have us killed – the transition is too atrocious – but just to let us be dead. We had but one desire; the end!

Alistair Horne – rising to the peaks of desperate irony that Verdun demands – comments: ‘At least this part of Dubrelle's prayers was answered the following year.’ Horne's tone and command of his material really is excellent throughout; he is very good on the political side, he offers outstanding character sketches of the major players, but he is also determined to make clear the experience of the regular soldiers who, amidst the horror, enacted ‘countless, unrecorded Thermopylaes’.

Many of the peripheral details here are fascinating. I knew of course that cavalry was still considered a strong tactic at the start of the war, but I had not previously appreciated how proportionally undeveloped was the use of motor-cars. In 1914, there were only 170 vehicles in the entire French army, and the Senegalese troops brought in to the service depots at first ate the grease.

One of the most riveting aspects of learning about the First World War, for me, has been the extent to which it is inseparable from the Second, so that whole period of 1914-1945 can be understood (as one historian said) almost as another Thirty Years War. This element comes across strongly in Horne as well, in unexpectedly tragic ways. It was Verdun that convinced French commanders of the vital necessity of strong forts, leading to their later over-dependence on the Maginot Line; indeed, ‘more than any isolated event of the First War, Verdun led to France's defeat in 1940’. While on the other side of the lines, it created ‘a vacuum of leadership in Germany into which rushed the riff-raff of the Himmlers and Goebbels’.

The most prominent symbol of this trajectory is poor Pétain, who emerges here as one of the great tragic figures of the century. Deeply protective of his troops, by far the most humanitarian French general, he would almost certainly have evacuated the whole Verdun salient if he'd been allowed; instead, he was forced to preside over a protracted slaughter. His resulting defeatism and pessimism were the first steps on the road that led inexorably to Vichy France.

In terms of raw numbers, there were probably more outrageous encounters; 20,000 British alone were killed on just the first day of the Somme, for instance. But what made Verdun uniquely horrific was how long it went on for. Even academic, judicious Horne finds himself concluding that ‘It is probably no exaggeration to call Verdun the “worst” battle in history’, and a microcosm of the wider conflagration:

It was the indecisive battle in an indecisive war; the unnecessary battle in an unnecessary war; the battle that had no victors in a war that had no victors.

One feels deeply that what happened from February to December 1916 was a ghastly mistake for the species as a whole. Then again, perhaps the most appalling thing is the possibility that this is not so. ‘War is less costly than servitude,’ writes the French novelist Jean Dutourd, in a comment that Horne quotes twice and that I found utterly chilling: ‘the choice is always between Verdun and Dachau.’ Now there's a choice to keep you up at night. ( )
  Widsith | Mar 24, 2015 |
778. The Price of Glory Verdun 1916, by Alistair Horne (read 7 Sep 1964) (Book of the Year) At the end of each year I select the best book I read in that yeaar. In 1964 I read 32 books. This was, without a doubt, the best book I read in 1964. It overwhelmed me. ( )
  Schmerguls | May 14, 2013 |
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This Western-front business couldn't be done again, not for a long time. The young men think they could do it again but they couldn't. They could fight the first Marne again but not this, this took religion and years of plenty and tremendous sureties and the exact relation that existed between the classes. The Russians and Italians weren't any good on this front. You had to have a whole-souled sentimental equipment going back further than you could remember. You had to remember Christmas, and postcards of the Crown Prince and his fiancee, and little cafes in Valence and beer gardens in Unter den Linden and weddings at the Mairie, and going to the Derby, and your grandfather's whiskers....This was a love battle-there was a century of middle-class love spent here....All my beautiful lovely safe world blew itself up here with a great gust of high explosive love.... - F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night
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Three and a half years elapsed between the First Battle of the Marne, when the Kaiser's armies reached the gates of Paris, and Ludendorff's last-gasp offensive that so nearly succeeded in the Spring of 1918.
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