All Quiet on the Western Front — Discipline, Camaraderie and Morale in the First World War

This week, in a sequence of history-themed essays first written for my university degree, I set out to spread the knowledge I attained in a course about the First World War. More specifically, the special importance put upon (as the title of this piece probably suggests) discipline, morale and camaraderie in the maintenance of professional conduct and the will to fight among the soldiery present on the battlefields of eastern France.

Note that I will be focusing almost specifically on the British Army in this essay. Other essays may be written from the perspective of other combatant nations, dependent on demand. Anyway, without further ado, we set forth to ask and answer one simple question: precisely how significant were these three major psychological components of a fighting force?

Every British soldier that fought in the First World War was an individual, a man with his own needs and concerns. This much is made clear through the necessity of discipline to keep troops in order, of maintaining morale to ensure that their fighting spirit does not diminish, and the development of camaraderie amongst the soldiers themselves, in addition to the enforcement and supervision of all three by the officer brass. The significance of all of these factors combined when it came to the battlefields, however, is one of considerable debate amongst historians, especially as far as discipline in all of its controversial nature is concerned, particularly as a means of enforcing morale amongst the troops of the Western Front.

Discipline will be the starting point of this treatise, largely because of its overarching presence and overall notoriety in the trenches of western Europe, especially in regards to the controversial executions of miscreant troops. In order to properly assess the effects of discipline on the performance of British troops on the battlefield, we must first determine just how officers were able to create and enforce military discipline. As is to be expected from an army that was predominantly professional before the outbreak of the war, filled with experienced career soldiers and officers until the formation of Lord Kitchener’s civilian army in August 1914, discipline was fierce and utterly uncompromising. For a citizen armed force entirely unaccustomed to the strictures necessary for military life, it had to be.

The soldier was considered in the absolute a component of the army, with no room for the individual — from the very start of basic training, this notion was instilled into the soldier. Punishments for misbehaviour in the trenches were often draconian, with the death penalty (“shot at dawn” by a firing squad) being prescribed by the 1914 Manual of Military Law for as minor an infraction as falling asleep while on watch. Martial law would be enforced by the Royal Military Police (RMPs, often called the “Redcaps” on account of their idiosyncratic red berets). The purpose of imposing such harsh discipline upon the many soldiers of the British Army was simple: on the battlefield, if one soldier makes a mistake, then all of the other soldiers may very well suffer as a direct result of it. This is illustrated via the “three on a match” superstition — an enemy sniper would see three soldiers lighting cigarettes and target them. In the pre-war professional colonial army, the soldiers would be accustomed to the mores of military life; however, this was not the case for Kitchener’s volunteer army, and certainly not for the conscript army that began to take shape from 1916 onwards.

Having been given basic training and sent off to fight in the trenches, the haste of this procedure being a necessity given the nature of the total war, the citizen army’s first taste of combat would be in the trenches during the course of a life-or-death conflict. The take that I have on the matter is that army discipline would be a new phenomenon to such people accustomed to the comparative luxury of civilian life, and thus martial law would have to be more rigid to accustom them to it with greater haste. Hence, such punishments as Field Punishment No. 1 — where the condemned would be shackled to a gun wheel — were employed as a simple necessity, punishments that were borderline medieval in their nature of inspiring humiliation and unthinkable as a part of civilian life.

The heavy-handed nature of military law did, however draconian, prove its worth in both the short term and in the longer term context of the wider war, a matter attested by the near-total lack of mutinies amongst British troops. The only major mutiny on the entire Western Front by British troops was at Étaples in 1917, and this was (purportedly) because of exceptional mistreatment at the hands of the RMPs in the camp. Furthermore, although 3,118 death sentences were passed down by the Courts Martial — second only to the Italian army, which ordered 4,028 — only an estimated 12 percent were carried out. This is in sharp contrast to the 26 percent of executions carried out by the French army, 32 percent by the Germans, and a staggering 98 percent by the Austrians; only the Belgians, who carried out six percent of executions, had a lower percentage.

Why this was the case is perhaps best enunciated through a musing by one Private Tom Corbin in a letter that he sent home in 1916: “The discipline here makes my head whirl, but there is a wonderful satisfaction in realising that it is all for something”. The consistence of high morale throughout the war amongst the British army, the sense of fighting a mortal enemy — “the Hun” — was arguably what made discipline so effective and significant in carrying the troops through the war. The Germans were frequently portrayed in propaganda as a horde of evil, warmongering brutes who killed and slaughtered the innocent people of Belgium and France for its own malevolent sake — and as a result, it would take a lot more to push a soldier over the edge. No soldier wanted to be seen to be aiding the enemy, and as a result, discipline was able to operate at optimum capacity. This leads onto the argument that it was not so much the case that discipline by itself had an effect upon the war, but rather morale had an effect on discipline, and vice versa, to exert a combined effect upon the war effort.

The ancient Chinese strategist Sun Tzu recognised this, and stated in The Art of War that a general “must bring (his) troops together with humane treatment, and bind them with discipline — this is the path to invincibility”. This is proven by not just the Étaples mutiny, but other mutinies on the Western Front, particularly those launched by the French army in response to the disastrous Nivelle Offensive. Troops, being thrown into literal suicide charges, held little motivation to fight for a country that they most likely would never return to, and thus it is clear that discipline holds little sway for those who have nothing to lose. Former soldier Rowland Myrdden Luther states in his private papers that “The penalty for running away or desertion was a bullet, and all the men knew this. We were told that iron discipline would control a man’s nerves under any circumstances”. However, as is proven by the mutinies, morale quickly deteriorates if the soldier is doomed to die no matter what he does, leading to the hypothesis that morale is the determinant factor of discipline, not the other way around.

As is illustrated by what historian Gary Sheffield refers to as the carrot-and-stick approach, the General Staff was well aware of the effects of morale upon discipline. Ergo, incentives for conformity were created, granting privileges such as regular food and extra leave. Food in particular would become a crucial cornerstone of both morale and camaraderie in the trenches, and not just because soldiers do in fact need food to sustain themselves. Comestibles delivered from Great Britain, such as biscuits and bread, were a lot more inspiring than the typical Army rations and especially the vilified vegetable stew known as Maconochie, not least since they helped to alleviate homesickness at the front. In addition to serving as a reminder to the civilian army of home, food also became a point of discussion amongst troops, the beginning of social connections and camaraderie with other soldiers as well as a means to break the intense monotony of life in the trenches.

In an astute recognition by high command of the sheer importance of food to the soldiers, the Army Postal Service was established and refined to be as efficient as possible, a well-oiled machine to ensure that not just food, but letters from home as well, would reach the front. When the Germans stepped up their U-boat campaign in the Atlantic Ocean, and food became much more difficult to ship to the front, the General Staff feared a breakdown in morale, fears that were partly borne out when they were faced with protests from soldiers. The importance of morale to an army is absolute, for morale is — to quote Merriam-Webster’s dictionary — “the mental and emotional condition an individual or group with regard to the function or tasks at hand”. Without the motivation and will to fight, it stands to reason that there can be no fighting — at least not by the British troops.

Before the overall significance of morale on the battlefields of the Western Front can be assessed, it must be pointed out that there were far more contributors to it than just food. Smoking was another important connection that soldiers had to home by reflecting a national habit; far from a mere pastime, it also helped to alleviate the stress of military life. Cigarettes, therefore, were sold at army canteens, and one chaplain known as “Woodbine Willie” (named after the soldiers’ favourite brand of cigarettes, the Woodbines) would offer solace to soldiers, accompanied by the offer of a cigarette. Sport, too — and particularly football — was another means of linking soldiers to the homeland and fostering camaraderie between them, in addition to providing a regular and entertaining source of exercise. This, however, developed amongst the troops themselves, rather than being brought down from the top, as did such methods used to cope with the horrors of combat as the development of gallows humour. Dark and often absurd jokes, like advertisements in trench magazines for such ‘products’ as the flamethrowers that the German stormtroopers sometimes used, displayed the pain, suffering and death inherent in warfare in a positive and comic light.

This assisted with dissipating the terror of being cast ‘over the top’ of the trench into the heart of battle. Songs, and not just those containing gallows humour, were another means for the troops to entertain themselves and assist in alleviating the immense boredom that was rampant in the trenches. Soldiers would sing about various subjects and matters of life, from wanting to go back home in Take Me Back to Dear Old Blighty (written in 1916), all the way up to versions of extant songs such as That’s the Wrong Way to Tickle Mary (a lewd corruption of the more popular ditty It’s a Long Way to Tipperary). It was through such entertainments and intimate connections to the home front that soldiers were able to cope, to endure the inherent privations and dangers of fighting a heavily-industrialised war. Even during the worst days of the war, such as during the Battles of the Somme in 1916, Passchendaele in 1917 and the Spring Offensive launched by German general Ludendorff in 1918, British troops were able to hold on as a result of high morale and applied discipline — Sun Tzu’s advice in The Art of War in full effect. As a result, the significance of discipline and morale can be stated in the manner that the two are mutually symbiotic; discipline does not function with any measure of adequacy without morale, and morale is reinforced using discipline.

But to conclude on just this note would be a gross display of negligence for the significance of camaraderie towards British battlefield success. Camaraderie, the fostering of trust and friendship between human beings, in this case soldiers, is an interesting matter to explore because there are two ways in which it may have an effect on the battlefield. Somewhat like high degrees of ill-applied discipline, camaraderie can be shown to have a negative effect on the soldiery. Their duty turns from the officers and the army to their friends and comrades, eroding one’s will to fight for fear of putting said friends at risk. This was especially apparent in the so-dubbed ‘pals’ battalions that were formed in the civilian army from soldiers who shared much in common with each other; usually this was location, trade or profession. A unit composed of such friends might suffer heavy losses on the battlefront, having a profoundly negative psychological effect upon the survivors who must contend with the reality of never seeing what friends are killed in action again.

In the same line, heavy losses amongst pals battalions sent to battle had the risk of depopulating entire towns and neighbourhoods, destroying communities at home; this became apparent with several battalions that were almost wiped out during the Battle of the Somme, such as the Accrington Pals and Grimsby Chums. Another problem with the pals battalions was the potential for rivalries to form between different ones, this being clear when Manchester decided to form its own such battalion in response to Liverpool doing so, as well as the possibility of pals working poorly with officers from rival communities. The insensibility and ultimate failure of the pals battalion experiment was only fully recognised after the Somme calamity, and the creation of more was not conducted once conscription came into force, a matter that David Chandler notes in his work The Oxford History of the British Army. The experiment illustrates that camaraderie and especially fraternisation was a fickle and sometimes dangerous animal, having to be supervised for the Army to operate at optimum capacity — it can make soldiers stop fighting or diminish their fighting capacity. When observed with the above points accounted for, camaraderie to the British war effort in the First World War can be viewed as a threat to army morale and discipline.

However, in the same regard that it could be seen in such a negative light, camaraderie can also be observed as a means to strengthen the resolve of a soldier. S.L.A Marshal observed in his 1947 work, Men Against Fire, that “…social pressure, more than military training, is the base of battle discipline, and that when social pressure is lifted, battle discipline disintegrates”. The important factor to note about camaraderie is that its most uplifting variations, rather than being passed down from high command, were developed by the troops themselves. Camaraderie served alongside morale as a coping mechanism for the terrors of battle: having a group of people to rely upon increased one’s chances of survival in the war, allowing troops to endure the worst of its battles. It allowed soldiers to not just develop social connections in the same line as morale, but also as a method of familiarising the rigours of military life; by befriending and fraternising with other troops, one could apply a distinctly civilian aspect to it.

Even death, which I have perhaps over-exaggerated in the previous paragraph as a negative feature of camaraderie, became a source of powerful determination for soldiers. A friend buried after being killed in battle is a friend that must be avenged. Field burial in particular was given a high degree of significance for not just that reason, but also because it was a way of showing respect for comrades fallen in battle. Enemies were unable to defile a corpse buried in an unmarked grave, and it also enabled for religious practices to be observed on the battlefield, again helping to make the hellish warzones of the Western Front seem at least somewhat familiar to the civilian army. Recognising the importance of religion and burials in particular, the General Staff issued a manual on how to conduct burials in the absence of a military chaplain, the Burials in Battle Area Notes for Officers, in 1917. Officers also fostered camaraderie by catering for all major denominations of Christianity in addition to several minority religions that troops drafted from the colonies practised, particularly Islam and Hinduism. Most soldiers back in the day had been brought up with belief in one faith or another, and thus it had become an important factor in the social life of the soldiers. It can also be argued that religion was used as a means to enforce camaraderie among the soldiers: atheists, a distinct minority amongst the British troops, were able to opt out of the otherwise compulsory church parades, but were frequently assigned labour duties.

Such a near constant presence of familiar scenes and activities provided by camaraderie between the troops naturally calms them down either before, after or during a dangerous battle, thus serving as a great method of reinforcing morale. Morale, as we have already hypothesised in the prior paragraphs and concurrent analyses into the establishment and maintenance of morale and discipline, is greatly beneficial towards the fortification of discipline in the British army and vice versa. The ultimate result of these findings and research into the combined significance of morale, discipline and camaraderie upon the battlefields of the Western Front, therefore, is the following: rigid discipline and morale were both key to a soldier’s performance, both being mutually beneficial, even dependent upon each other throughout the war. Camaraderie, when adequately supervised, can be a powerful boost to morale, and ergo discipline.

It must, however, be monitored with care, or else there is the risk of eroding morale. There must be a means for soldiers to cope with the death of their comrades and the general horrors of war. The answer to the question of coping with the battlefields from the officers was familiarising the warzone and making it as homely to the troops as possible, within practicality — this was achieved through the Army Postal Service, religion and the endorsement of respectful burials. From the soldiers themselves, the answer of coping with the battlefields was a sense of patriotism, a duty to friends and allies made during the war and the gallows humour that poked fun at the horrors of war and became a distinctive part of war culture. The latter is seen in the so-called Staniforth Letters, where one soldier enunciated, “If you die, you can’t worry! So why worry?”. The combined effects and significance of discipline, morale and camaraderie on the battlefield performance of British troops cannot be overstated, and this applies to both positive and negative effects.

Strong discipline and morale served as a stalwart safeguard against the looming threat of mutiny, with the only major British mutiny on the Western Front being the Étaples affair. They allowed the troops to ride out the carnage and chaos of warfare despite initial optimism about victory being eroded and the arrival of the great German generals Ludendorff and Hindenburg by instilling them with the purpose of defeating the enemy for king and country. They maintained their commitment to said purpose by enabling the development of carefully monitored camaraderie. In the same light, the effects of unmonitored camaraderie proved almost catastrophic when it came to battle. The bloodbath at the Somme in particular illustrated the inherent insensibility of the pals battalions policy, where entire villages back in Britain could be stripped of their male populations in the space of but a few days. Likewise, poorly applied and heavy-handed discipline posed the risk of destroying morale and thereby faith in the cause, as the instance of disgruntled troops turning on military police units at Étaples amply demonstrates.

Thank you all for reading, and as always, I’ll be seeing you next week.

~ Harry