Armistice in '18

Hello, dear readers,
The 1918 Armistice centenary is at hand, and commemorations are ongoing around the world.

I attended my local Veterans' Day parade last weekend, and there was a special Armistice ceremony afterwards. We sat in a 1930s Spanish Revival veterans' hall, folding chairs creaking as attendees filtered in and sat. Ornate chandeliers hung from the dark wood ceiling. The bright blue sky was visible through the high windows. The space had (what I consider) the pleasant, faint scent that only decades-old gathering spaces have--a sort of hushed mingling of dusty curtains, scrubbed metal counters in the adjoining kitchen, whispers of perfume and aftershave, leather shoes, coffee, cleaning fluids and wood polish that builds up subtly over the years. Generations gather and disperse here, for events momentous and mundane.

A band played patriotic songs as attendees took their seats, and soon it was time for the national anthem. All stood as the flag was walked in by an honor guard and all eyes were fixed on the flag, with hands and hats on hearts, as the anthem played.

The flag before us was a familiar symbol, a sign of what we had come to honor and what those we honored had gazed upon and been inspired by. But, to me, it was also something that seemed unsettled, charged with a certain restlessness that I had not seen in it before.

We live in uncertain times. I'm often reminded these days that, though history might once have seemed or been taught to us as a reliable foundation for the present, a space cordoned off in memory, deep below, in which tragic or painful truths played out and were reckoned with so as to support our progress and betterment, it is, in fact, not elsewhere. History is here, history is now. The past and present are bound together, evolving continuously, reliant on our memory and understanding, our willingness to engage with their truths and the responsibility we have as their stewards. Signs and symbols, ideals, on which we rely to define who we are, what we believe, what we defend, what we offer to our fellow humans, are not such comfortably fixed marks as we might like to think. They require our persistent commemoration and engagement.

Our dear ghosts of 1914 deserve our commemoration and engagement, not so much because they are denizens of a past long gone, now at a distance of a hundred years or more, but as fellow navigators of a world fraught with recurrent conflict, where lofty ideals and human truths intersect, sometimes redefining one another.

On this Armistice anniversary and Veterans' Day, I encourage you to honor and thank veterans past and present. Let the Ghosts of 1914 inspire you to give your time, resources, and/or attention to military service members or veterans in your family or community.

May our commemoration of the first day of peace in 1918 be a reminder to love and seek peace in our time as well.

Thank you for reading,
Fiona

The United States enters the war to end all wars

U.S. flag flown from the Hotel de Ville, Paris, on 6 April 1917.
© IWM (FLA 5468)

Hello, dear readers,
The steady gears of history keep on turning...

One hundred years ago, the Great War became even more global. The United States entered the conflict officially with Congress's vote to declare war on Germany, on 6th April, 1917.

In recognition of this anniversary for our Ghosts of 1917, I went searching for some digital archival items. Here is an initial assortment; more soon. In the meantime, the Wikipedia article on the U.S. entry into war is commendably thorough in its content and citations.

The Daily Missourian reports on the U.S. entry into the Great War
6 April, 1917
source: Library of Congress "Chronicling America" website

Would-be Marines sign up for service after the declaration of war.
© IWM (Q 70887)

Pacifism was still strong in the United States in this era.
"I Didn't Raise My Boy To Be A Soldier" 1915 sheet music cover, with photo of singer Ed. Morton.
Source: Wikipedia

Blindfolded Newton Diehl Baker, the US Secretary of War, drawing the first number in the Army Draft
 May 1917.
© IWM (Q 70156)

With thanks for reading,
Fiona

Christmas 2016

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!”

--Charles Dickens, "A Christmas Carol" 

Hello, dear readers,
I hope you are enjoying a very happy holiday season. In the past days, my mind has turned many times to the ghosts of the 1914 Christmas truce, those soldiers who, despite the appearance or assumption of complete and bitter opposition, chose to set aside their differences in the spirit of togetherness and shared joy. They celebrated something bigger than themselves and, in so doing, they found that peace can be chosen--that peace can be lived.

While this event and the story have a certain magic to them, there is nothing particularly supernatural or fantastical about the Christmas truce. It was a human decision, a collective conscious gravitation away from conflict.

We have much to learn from these ghosts of Christmas 1914. Crossing the artificial divides that we build around ourselves, choosing peace, choosing tolerance, understanding, and care, acting daily on behalf of these values and their continuance. Even our ghosts could not make this chosen peace last any longer than a single Christmastime, but we can accept what is still a remarkable gift and try to keep it all the year.

I will close this post with a quote from one of my previous holiday posts here at Ghosts of 1914:

The real message of the Christmas Truce has nothing to do with any shop, business, or any commercial objective, no matter who presumes to put their stamp on the telling of its story or how a retailer might seek to stir our emotions.  Those of us who have long been moved by this event have known that the real message is something that belongs to everyone; it is a gift that can never be transformed into a commodity. And what is that message? It's a simple one, in my opinion. "This was possible", the ghosts of the Christmas Truce tell us, giving us a glimpse of the desire for peace that lives in all of us.

A British officer's photo of soldiers meeting during the Christmas Truce of 1914. © IWM, Item Q 11718.

With my best wishes for peace and joy now and all the year,

Fiona

© Fiona Robinson

Veterans day 2016

Hello, dear readers,
What a week it's been here in the United States! What a time of division and darkness we seem to be facing at the moment.

We are just beyond the precipice of an unscripted future. It has been a difficult few days. Our shock and fear, however, at feeling the ground beneath us disappear and all else recede above us must turn to action. We must get our feet beneath us once again; we must reach out and look for one another amidst what feels like a free fall in utter darkness. Minds and hearts must be opened. We must step free of the echo chambers and enchanted mirrors with which we surround ourselves too frequently online and otherwise. We must choose to hear and see one another clearly, to understand that which we do not know, and to care for one another as best we can.

One of the first things I did on Wednesday morning was to make some donations to causes that matter to me. These contributions were my way of acknowledging the far greater value that I feel these organizations represent and that we should never take for granted. My fearfulness receded a tiny bit when I realized that it is not only still possible, but completely crucial, to stand up for and stand alongside those whose wellbeing is challenged, whose visibility is endangered. Sharing what we have of time or other resources, giving recognition, and showing compassion--these are things we should strive always to do. Now, however, more than ever, they feel like at least part of the balm so many of us could use. Our feelings of vulnerability, invisibility, and fear can be transformed into opportunities to connect, to see, and to help.

This all brings me to the reason for my post tonight. It is the eve of Veterans, or Armistice, Day, November 11th. This day has had a significance of many facets for me over the last five years of blogging here and the last several years of communing with the ghosts of 1914. As ever, the 11th is an opportunity to step outside of ourselves, our present time and circumstances, our everyday routines, and to recognize the sacrifices, stories, realities, and needs of those who have served their countries in uniform.

To the men and women who have served in war- and peacetime, I give thanks. To my readers, I issue my usual encouragement to give thanks and support to veterans on this or any day. Some options for charitable giving are listed here. I have no affiliation with any particular charity or organization, but I hope that you take this opportunity to contribute time, a donation, or some other expression of care and recognition.

Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund:
This organization offers support and medical care for severely wounded service members and helps support military families.

Fisher House Foundation:

This organization offers military families temporary "comfort housing" where they can stay locally when loved one is being treated for injuries or illness.

The Poppy Appeal:

The British Legion provides "practical care, advice, and support" to serving military members, veterans, and families.

Operation Homefront:

Operation Homefront provides emergency financial assistance to military families.

Homes for Our Troops:

Homes for Our Troops assists severely injured/disabled veterans with necessary structural and other adaptations for their homes in order to support comfortable, accessible, and independent living.

With thanks,
Fiona

The great war goes to Hollywood: Hell's Angels

Film poster, 1929.
Wikipedia

Hello, dear readers,

Having just gotten back from a trip to beautiful Los Angeles, it seems fitting to write about the silver screen tonight.

Just recently, my husband and I sat down with some popcorn to watch Hell's Angels, Howard Hughes's 1930 epic about the Great War. I must admit, I was not sure what to expect of this film; though I was aware of its subject matter and some of the drama surrounding its production, I did not know much else about it. 

An episode of the excellent podcast, You Must Remember This, had rekindled our interest in the movie and we moved it to the top of our DVD delivery service queue. The confluence of modern technologies by which the film manifested in our living room seems a fitting frame for the viewing experience; Hell's Angels has an arresting freshness untroubled by the eight decades that stand between its making and modern viewers. Though it often gets rather short critical shrift, I am unconvinced by those who claim that the film's production history eclipses the movie itself.

Hell's Angels features simply awe-inspiring aeronautical stunt sequences and a human drama mirrored by the incredible rise and fall of the flying machines that defy gravity and belief as they arc through the air...There are multitudes of details, themes, and other aspects that one might address in any critical take on this film. I'll focus this post on just a couple of them.

And without further ado...

I was just here! Well, in a way.

The Hell's Angels premiere at Grauman's Chinese Theatre, Los Angeles, 1930.

From graumanschinese.com

*** England's dreaming *** 

While the film and its actors, for the most part, are American, the story is set in England and Europe. Both places are depicted in times of pre-war innocence and during the grimmer war years. In particular, however, the film anchors itself in an idealized England, a place and time seen as though through a pleasant (Hollywood-mediated) haze, with a sort of nostalgia or longing built into scenes of carousing university students and lavish parties. In the pre-war years, England represents a space of temporary union and friendship for the two British protagonists, Roy and Monte, and their university classmate, a young man summoned against his will to return home to Germany for military service near the film's beginning. 

The dreamy pre-war England of Hell's Angels is defined not only by ephemerality but by a chimerical evasiveness. The film suggests that this place might not exist at all. Like an illusion that lives only on the silver screen, Hell's Angels acknowledges that the England that means so much to some of its characters might be no more than the stuff of dreams. As various characters learn, just as soon as their desire for this place seems to shift to belonging, it--the old-world values, innocence, and the promises it seems to make--seems to disappear, leaving its would-be denizens heir only to a cold awakening, a rougher modernity.

*** Time travel ***

There is no explicit time travel in this film. However, just as it becomes difficult to separate the real from the imagined pre-war England, the past and the present--both the wartime present within the film and the post-war moment of the film's making--maintain a complicated entanglement throughout. 

Early in the film, a chivalric pistol duel is depicted in silhouette, abstracting the setting and characters to harken back to previous centuries. 

A duel.
Still from taoyue.com

The scene precedes the war's advent in the film, but it foreshadows later encounters between two characters who represent not only opposing nations but generations locked into conflict. 

Some time later, a lovely color sequence depicts a ball given just as soldiers prepare to leave for war. Jean Harlow, who plays Roy's promised love interest but Monte's irresistible temptress, is dazzling in a gauzy chiffon and jeweled gown. She is a confident but self-absorbed character, resistant to the old-fashioned future to which she seems doomed because of her connection to the rather conservative Roy.

Jean Harlow as Helen.

GIF from pre-code.com

While Roy seems to hail from an older world than his counterparts, Harlow's Helen is like a visitor from another time altogether, a kind of futuristic Hollywood yankee in King Arthur's court, if you will. Her modern sensibility distances her from both men, especially the idealistic Roy. She is unconcerned about her reputation amongst her fusty contemporaries or the degree to which they share her vision of the present and the future.

As they register on film, Helen's appearance and attitude are rather jarring. She is not a particularly sympathetic character, but there is something perhaps compelling, or at least startlingly recognizable, in her manner and look. They appear out of time within the film; Helen seems aware that she does not belong to the world that surrounds her. In truth, she looks like she belongs in ours. Just as Roy and others long for an illusory past, Helen seems a harbinger of a world beyond the present, beyond the war.

Helen looks forward, fearlessly. Her suitors see only a heavily mediated version of her--something angelic or devilish, held up only to the somewhat dim light of the present moment. 

...

I'll stop here for this evening. There is so much to say about this film! I'll follow up this post with another on the fascinating story of the Royal Flying Corps, whose history Hell's Angels prompted me to study.

Cheers,
Fiona

Text © Fiona Robinson

Where the nightingales are singing...

Hello dear readers,

A little note tonight to share with you a charming piece of Great War era music...

McBey, James. "A Concert", 1917.  © IWM (Art.IWM ART 1408) 

In an episode of the recent television drama, The Crimson Field, the three main characters, all young VADs, perform a song together for the benefit of field hospital patients and staff. The sweet and wistful song caught my attention and I decided to learn what I could about it.

As it turns out,  not only was "There's a Long, Long, Trail" a most popular Great War tune, but its history also traces back to one of my almae matres.

The song was composed in 1913 by two Yale undergraduates, Alonzo Elliott and Stoddard King. The story goes that the two young men dreamed up the lyrics and melody one lazy afternoon on campus.

1914 sheet music cover

Elliott and King were not soldiers, and the war had not even begun when they wrote this song. And yet, "There's a Long, Long, Trail" seems to have lent itself well to the experiences and sentiments of many of our ghosts of 1914, whether combatant or civilian.

Full of gentle words of longing, the song contrasts a dreamy, moonlit, space that unites the singer and his or her love with the "long, long trail" keeping the two apart. A closeness, all too evanescent, is conjured up in memory and imagination, though reality sets "many a weary mile" between the two lovers.

The song traces the singer's path from a point of loneliness at the far end of the trail to a hoped-for reunion in which the two lovers walk beside one another. Time and distance work against the singer and his or her love at first, constituting the arduous trail that separates them. Ultimately, however, the song suggests that time and distance (covered) are the very things that will bring the lovers back to one another. In the meantime, dreams will have to do.

A couple of the recordings of "The Long, Long Trail" available for your listening pleasure:

• A soaring 1917 version by John McCormack, likely one that many of our ghosts of 1914 heard.

• A lovely, much later, 1940s rendition by the Sons of the Pioneers.

I'll close here, hoping that you enjoy this sweet tidbit of Great War musical history.

© Fiona Robinson

Pigeon Post, Part 1

The war pigeon, Dreadnought, gazing rather lovingly into the eyes of a Royal Engineer.
Part of the "Royal Engineers Signal Service on the Front, 1914-18" collection.
 © IWM, item Q 11954

Hello, dear readers,

The Ghosts of 1914 are here today to add to our little collection of pigeon posts. Previously, we've reviewed a bit of the history of Chere Amie, the brave messenger pigeon, and Martha, the last of the passenger pigeon species that was once enormously plentiful in the United States.

For this pigeon series, I wanted to step back and get a better sense of the story of combat pigeons in the First World War. I've been filling in some answers to the who, what, where, why, and when questions with which I started my research. Slowly, but surely, I've drummed up some details on the history of combat pigeons in the Great War. I'll tell this story in parts; today's installation sets the stage with some essential background information.

To start, Cher Amie and Martha were not members of the same species, in case you were wondering. Combat (sometimes called "messenger", which, as I'll explain later, doesn't really describe the extent of their combat roles completely) pigeons were, as far as I've been able to gather, strictly of the homing variety.

[T]he whole secret of carrier pigeon service depends upon the attachment of the pigeon for its home, no matter how distant that may be...

       --The Contributor, Nov. 1887,  Vol. IX, No. 1. 

Homing pigeons are known and have long been bred for a remarkable ability to fly 'home', averaging impressive speeds and covering great distances. These birds are equipped with what seems an as-yet-not-fully-pinpointed biological navigational system that allows them, when released, to point themselves homewards and simply go!

Some have speculated that the homing pigeon uses magnetic navigation, while others have pointed to a subtle innate sound-based biotechnology. Yet others have proffered a sense of smell as the reason for this bird's wondrous gift.

Whatever the source of their magic, homing pigeons have a few thousand years of messenger service and sporting history across Asia and the Middle East. In the last two hundred years, their talents became even more widely known and employed. Major destinations in the long-haul flight of homing pigeon history in Europe, the United States, and elsewhere include

• The Belgian Concourse of 1818, where pigeons raced long distance from Toulouse, France, to Brussels. This inaugural race set off a passion for pigeon racing clubs and contests.

Envelope used as part of the pigeon post preparation process to get messages into France.

• The Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71, during which pigeons were used in place of a disabled telegraph system to deliver thousands of messages to Paris.

• The Great Barrier Pigeongram service, begun in Auckland, in 1897.

By the time of the Great War, homing pigeons were recognized for their speed, endurance, reliability, and efficiency as carriers for crucial information. This species was well-established as a viable communications option, particularly in conditions that made other technologies impossible. While some might consider pigeons a rather rudimentary system alongside such contemporary communications tools as radio and telegraphy, I'm learning that the art and science of pigeon messaging was just as sophisticated, complex, and daring as any others. In fact, as recently as 2009, a homing pigeon beat a South African DSL service in a (rather amusing) data transfer contest. Messenger pigeons show us that modern machinery does not always outperform a bit of ingenious collaboration between the human and animal world.

In our next posts, we'll dig into the nuts and bolts of pigeon training, transportation, and service on the Great War battlefront. Till then, we're sending this post off to wing its way to you.

Thanks for reading!

© Fiona Robinson

The day after Veterans Day

Hello dear readers,
I'm back, from a rather lengthy hiatus here at Ghosts of 1914.

At 11:00 a.m. today, the 11th of November, I sat at my kitchen table, taking a break from my work. I closed my eyes and tried to reach back through time and place myself in the crowd who stood in Whitehall at the Cenotaph dedication, on 11 November 1920. I tried to hear bells tolling the hour and to feel the quietly shifting presence of the massive crowd that gathered to honor the war dead.

That particular Veterans, or Armistice, Day is one to which I have no particular family or other personal connection, at least of which I'm aware. But my work on the history and literature of the Great War has long made it a compelling moment for me. When the 11th of November comes around every year, its predecessors, especially those of the post-Great War era, echo loudly for me and, though I was not there to witness them, sometimes seem to overlay the present.

I aim to write something for Veterans Day each year here on Ghosts of 1914. One of my traditional Veterans Day messages is to urge you to give thanks and some measure of care, be it volunteered time or a charitable donation, to service people and/or veterans of today.

I almost didn't manage to write something in time for this year's occasion. I've been busy and somewhat burned out, what with a recent house move, a summer full of renovations, and a full time job. I didn't know if I had time or the energy to put something together for the 11th of November. But then, something about that brief moment of reaching back towards that Armistice Day in the ever-more-distant past, however indulgently fanciful it was, made me realize something. Perhaps it was the brief confluence of past and present that turned my mind towards the future. Veterans Day is important, but what about the day after Veterans Day? It is right to commemorate and show our gratitude on the 11th of November each year, to mark the day with solemnity, respect, and perhaps a wish for peace. But when the crowds disperse, when the flowers in wreaths are tattered, the flags put away, and the fanfares subside, it is also right to continue these efforts. When it is not Veterans Day, perhaps as much as or more than on the holiday itself, we must still find ways to recognize, to listen and learn, and to show compassion.

So I urge you, on what is now (nearly) the 12th of November, to consider the day after Veterans Day as another opportunity to participate in some work of remembrance, learning, compassion, and/or service for veterans of current, recent, and/or long-ago combat.

I am glad to pick up my pen here at Ghosts of 1914 once again, and, more importantly, to say "thank you" to service people past and present on the day after Veterans Day.

Cheers,
Fiona

The Ghosts of 1914 and a Christmas Controversy

Hello dear Readers,

It is a bit early for Christmas or other holiday seasonal content, I feel. However, I just had to pop in and share some information I've been gathering on a very striking Christmas television advertisement from Sainsbury's. We don't have Sainsbury's stores here in the U.S., but I found the ad online. Here it is:

This commercial tells a version of the story of the famous Christmas Truce of 1914, an incredible event that I've written about before.

However, the ad has apparently stirred up a lot of anger and indignation, particularly among those who are disturbed at the retail giant's plans to destroy a WWI memorial in Bristol. I've learned that the city's memorial football stadium, an historic tribute to the First World War, is now the target of a massive redevelopment plan by none other than Sainsbury's.

Naturally, the controversy over the expansion of big box stores and their associated projects is nothing unusual here in the U.S. The progression of giant concrete buildings, with their miles of dreary aisles lit by gloomy flourescent beams, is a disturbing trend. Open spaces and small family-owned businesses are often at risk. Here, though, many of the emotions stirred by this commercial and its maker are centered not only around an historic site, but around the rightful ownership of what it commemorates. Sainsbury's, in issuing this ad, is felt to stake some claim on First World War memory or history--and especially to presume to tell a story that many feel is near-sacred. To make this claim more upsetting, the business's destructive plans for the Bristol site make it obvious that preserving that memory or history is not a primary concern. To complicate matters, the ad is a product of a partnership between Sainsbury's and The British Legion, an eminent UK armed forces charity.

I found some excellent articles about the controversy over the stadium and advertisement:
The Independent: "Hypocritical Sainsbury's Ad..."
The Guardian: Sainsbury's Christmas Ad

and a great blog post about the controversy by Chris at The Pietist Schoolman:
"On Advertising, Chocolate, and the First World War"

Though some, including Ally Fogg at The Guardian, say that the advertisement is mostly disturbing not because of the stadium controversy but because it is a commercialized and unrealistic portrait of WWI experience, it is important to recall at least that the Truce really did happen. In fact, I would argue that it is essential to remember that it happened and was documented. It is part of the British (and German) WWI experience, though it is of course not reflective of the larger reality of a soldier's existence in the trenches and in battle. That it seems such an unbelievable phenomenon makes it all the more worth our attention, because it makes the tragedies of the rest of the Great War all the more poignant.

I am not in favor of the commercialization of this story. I wish the advertisement could have been some kind of short film, issued in honor of the centenary of this extraordinary event and not linked to any commercial entity. It is worth such remembrance. I respect and sympathize with the anger that the ad has generated among those who do not wish to see the Bristol stadium torn down, and for that reason, I respect the feelings of those who would rather that Sainsbury's had never made a commercial telling a First World War story. What I hope, though, is that this commercial and its controversy help the WWI history community to grow, and for more people to be inspired to learn about the ghosts of 1914. 

The real message of the Christmas Truce has nothing to do with any shop, business, or any commercial objective, no matter who presumes to put their stamp on the telling of its story or how a retailer might seek to stir our emotions.  Those of us who have long been moved by this event have known that the real message is something that belongs to everyone; it is a gift that can never be transformed into a commodity. And what is that message? It's a simple one, in my opinion. "This was possible", the ghosts of the Christmas Truce tell us, giving us a glimpse of the desire for peace that lives in all of us.

A British officer's photo of soldiers meeting during the Christmas Truce of 1914. © IWM, Item Q 11718.

With early wishes for a peaceful and cheering holiday season,

Fiona

© Fiona Robinson

Remembering (and Thanking) Veterans

Hello dear Readers!
A brief post today to honor Remembrance Day/Veteran's Day. THANK YOU all service members, past and present. I've been so impressed with the poppy installation at the Tower of London, honoring those who gave their lives in the Great War.

Let us give equal thanks, attention, and care to living veterans. As I have done in years past, I urge you to donate time and/or funds to supporting service people who need our help. Though I am not affiliated with it, I can recommend The Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund, for a start.

I will close here, with links to past posts about Remembrance Day and resources for giving.

With Thanks,

Fiona

© Fiona Robinson
----

Links:
Poppies on November 11th

The Cenotaph Unveiled

Next of Kin Memorial Plaques

The Unknown Warrior

Veteran's Day Service Ideas 

Remembrance and Service

The Passenger Pigeon: Avian Ghost of 1914

Martha, in the Smithsonian Collection
Image © Smithsonian

Hello dear readers,

I'd like to bring you today the first installment of a mini blog series about carrier pigeons and their work in the Great War. My interest was inspired this summer by the sight of Cher Ami(e), the brave little carrier pigeon, whose steely determination and intelligence saved many human lives.

Though she did not have a direct connection to the Great War, another female pigeon has been generating a lot of buzz and a kind of collective indirect nostalgia recently--this is Martha, the last passenger pigeon known to humankind. While British Great War history is our usual province here at Ghosts of 1914, today we cross the Atlantic back to the United States for a brief glimpse of this enigmatic bird's story.

Though there is at least one claimed modern sighting to be found online, for the rest of us an encounter with a live passenger pigeon is something only to be imagined. At one time, clouds of these birds roved American skies. The beautiful painting below, by Michigan artist Lewis Cross, gives us an idea of  what was once an unremarkable sight: 

Lewis Cross,  Passenger Pigeon landscape. © Lakeshore Museum Center, Michigan. 

Image from mlive.com 

Cross captures the sense of infinite plenty, the sky-darkening profusion, that might have led people to believe that there could be no end to the passenger pigeon. The swirl of birds in the painting could be taken for a kind of cornucopia, with its wrapping horn-like form. It is a kind of infinity symbol, arcing this way and that across the horizon. There is a dark presentiment, though, in the tapering trail of birds heading into the distance at the right. The pigeons swoop around and into this dwindling formation; Cross, who painted this piece years after Martha's passing in 1914, in this way shows us the past and present, the broad swath of birds stretching overhead and the tiny trace towards which they move.

Audubon sketch of a passenger pigeon, 1809.
© Special Collections Research Center, University of Chicago Library/Library of Congress 

The passenger pigeon's extinction centenary is a strange anniversary of sorts. It is a moment to mourn the solitary bird, Martha, whose rusty breast, soft brownish grey wings, and striking red-rounded eyes are quite haunting. What a burden to be the last of her kind! It is also a moment when those who never could have seen a live passenger pigeon are made wistful and sad at the thought that any species so visibly available at one moment could vanish in virtually the next. There are even proponents of bringing the passenger pigeon back, using modern DNA research and other technologies to resurrect a species that we identify today with still-shocking invisibility.

There is so much good content available online about the passenger pigeon. I'll close this prologue to our eventual foray into carrier pigeon history with some links for the curious.

Till next time,
Fiona

© Fiona Robinson

More about the Passenger Pigeon:

The New Yorker: "A Century of Extinction"

University of Michigan LSA: "100 Years Without the Passenger Pigeon"

The Guardian (review): "The Passenger Pigeon by Errol Fuller"

The Muskegon Chronicle: Brush with the Past: Eccentric Artist Preserved Now-Extinct Pigeons on Canvas

Smithsonian: Martha, the Last Passenger Pigeon

Smithsonian: 360 degree view of Martha

Audubon Magazine: 13 Memories of Martha, the Last Passenger Pigeon

4 August 1914/2014: England and Germany at War

"England and Germany at War", Birmingham Gazette, 5 August 1914Source: British Newspaper Archive

As this August 1914 front page (courtesy of the fascinating British Newspaper Archive's post on WWI Headlines) proclaims, Britain entered the First World War on 4 August, 1914. Earlier on the same day, Germany declared war on Belgium after the latter had attempted to remain a neutral territory. In consequence, Britain declared war on Germany late that evening. By this point, the two sides of the terrible conflict had been mustered: the Allies, which comprised Britain, France, and Russia; and the Central Powers, which included Germany and Austria-Hungary. 

A massive crowd of Londoners cheered the news of the war that night. The next morning, we might assume, many of these ghosts of 1914 opened a newspaper to take in the momentous occasion. We can read the 5 August 1914 edition of The Daily Telegraph along with some of them, thanks to the The Telegraph's wonderful online WWI newspaper resource.

Photograph of the crowd outside Buckingham Palace, London after the declaration of war against Germany, 
4 August 1914.  © National Archives, UK. 

Civilian Britons reading of their nation's entry into war were met, perhaps strangely, with a distinctly non-wartime assortment of peppy advertisements for hair products, laxatives, and vacations to Spain. Such newsprint chatter vied for space with maps of the conflict and reports of the official declaration, though. Already, some panic over war's consequences for civilian life are apparent, as one article details "Civic Cowardice" in the form of "housewives" whose frenzied stocking up on food items was already creating high prices and low supplies (p. 10). Another article insists, however, that supplies of meat and grains are plentiful (p. 9). Poignantly, an eye-catching notice reminds young unmarried men that "Your King and Country Need You!".

The Daily Telegraph, 5 August 1914, (p. 9). © The Telegraph World War One Archive

Its insistence that "each day is fraught with the gravest possibilities" and its portrayal of the Empire as being "on the brink of the greatest war in the history of the world" are both chillingly accurate and  already out-of-date. Clearly written before the awful certainty of this particular day's news, the Army notice reminds us that the gravest of possibilities for Britain in 1914 had come true.

© Fiona Robinson

1 August 1914/2014

From The Telegraph: "First World War Centenary: how events unfolded on August 1 1914"
Image © The Telegraph

One hundred years ago today: Germany declares war on Russia, 1 August 1914--a date recognized as the official start of the First World War.

And so it began to begin...

As one who hangs down-bending from the side
Of a slow-moving boat, upon the breast
Of a still water, solacing himself
With such discoveries as his eye can make
Beneath him in the bottom of the deep,
Sees many beauteous sights--weeds, fishes, flowers,
Grots, pebbles, roots of trees, and fancies more,
Yet often is perplexed, and cannot part
The shadow from the substance, rocks and sky,
Mountains and clouds, reflected in the depth
Of the clear flood, from things which there abide
In their true dwelling; now is crossed by gleam
Of his own image, by a sunbeam now,
And wavering motions sent he knows not whence,
Impediments that make his task more sweet;
Such pleasant office have we long pursued
Incumbent o'er the surface of past time
With like success, nor often have appeared
Shapes fairer or less doubtfully discerned
Than these to which the Tale, indulgent Friend!
Would now direct thy notice.

 --William Wordsworth, The Prelude, Book 4, ll. 256-76

                  

Hello Readers,

It's somewhat strange, waiting with bated breath for the steady gears of history to make their circuit towards the date when we can look back exactly one hundred years to the start of the Great War. It's as though we anticipate some kind of perspicuity that, like gazing down into a glass-clear lake, is only possible when the present aligns with the past just so. Like Wordsworth's boy looking down into the "still water" and confused by the reflections therein of sky and earth and of "his own image", though, perhaps we may find (and perhaps we already know) that shadow and substance cannot be so easily separated. Though the great span of time that a centennial marks might suggest a certain poignant stillness, calming the past into clarity and granting us objective distance, our own image may surprise us in those depths. What might we learn about ourselves and our world by looking  for and listening to those ghosts of 1914? As we have for some time now on this blog, we shall continue ask to this very question. We will continue to chase shadow and substance in the (deceptively) glassy deep of hundred-year-old history.

As we near and enter the official centenary, it is my aim to direct the blog towards following events of the war's unfolding over the years 1914-1918. 

To that end, I present a small collection of articles about the events of exactly one hundred years ago, when Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia:

• History Channel: This Day in History: Austria-Hungary Declares War on Serbia

• The Telegraph: "WWI: 7 Days to Go"

• Mental Floss: WWI Centennial: Austria-Hungary Declares War on Serbia

• New York Times Learning Network: On this Day...(Reprint of 1914 article: "Austria Formally Declares War on Servia..."

And a last-but-not-least suggestion: hstry.org's fascinating "Back to the Mud" blog series on one man's adventure through family WWI history.


Till next time,
Fiona


© Fiona Robinson

The first Ghosts of 1914...

Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie leave Sarajevo City Hall on June 28, 1914.
© JU Muzej Sarajevo/Washington Post/Reuters

Today marks the 100th anniversary of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, on June 28 1914, in Sarajevo. This was the day, a century ago, when the world began hurtling towards the Great War. Though the conflict would not begin officially until August, we might say that the Archduke and his wife, Sophie, were the first Ghosts of 1914.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, hstry.org has held a fantastic Twitter reenactment of the assassination today, related from the perspective of a journalist who was there at the time. You can review their posts from today here:

HstryOrg on Twitter

The Archduke and Sophie shortly before the assassination, June 28, 1914
© IWM (Q 79761)

There are many other resources for those seeking more about what happened on this dreaded day, one hundred years ago. A selected few, for those new to this history and for seasoned sleuths:

• Washington Post blog post on the assassination
• Wikipedia on the assassination and on the Archduke
• Margaret Woolmans: The Assasination of the Archduke

There is also news of the centenary observations, some of which have provoked serious controversy due to the persistent instability that WWI brought to Eastern Europe.

• Huffington Post: Franz Ferdinand Centenary
• The Guardian: Serbian Leaders Boycott Franz Ferdinand Commemoration

And for those of us who wonder what might have been, had this day's ancestor (June 28, 1914) been no more remarkable to us today than any other, several writers have written or explored alternate histories. These are just a few:

• The Telegraph: What if Archduke Franz Ferdinand had Lived?
• Richard Lebow: The Archduke Lives!
• NY Times: If Franz Ferdinand Had Lived

1911 Gräf & Stift open car in which Archduke Ferdinand was killed.
Military History Museum in Vienna, Austria.

There is something so compelling about asking what our world would be like if, at the conclusion of that day in Sarajevo, the car bearing the Archduke and his party had simply returned to the train station in Sarajevo and nothing more of deep significance had been recorded. We'd like to think that the millions of Great War casualties would never have happened, that so many lives cut short or  harmed by the four years of strife and its aftermath could have remained untouched, undisturbed, and that a gentler course of history might have run peacefully through the first decades of the twentieth century. Perhaps this could have happened. But I think the most useful aspect of such dreams of a peaceful 1914-1918 is the waking from them, with eyes open to modern conflict and searching for the way to peace.

Yours,

Fiona

© Fiona Robinson

Carrier Pigeons and Tweeting: oh, what a digital war!

Cher Ami, an heroic U.S. Army Signal Corps carrier pigeon.
Washington DC: The Smithsonian Museum

Hello, friends.

I have a feeling that our Ghosts of 1914 would not be so taken aback to find that, as we approach the centennial anniversary of the Great War's start, our relationship to the war can now be (and may be primarily) digitally mediated. We've gone from carrier pigeons, like the brave and beautiful Cher Ami, who risked HER life to save hundreds of soldiers (and whom I saw on display at the Smithsonian Museum of American History on a recent jaunt to Washington DC),  to Twitter.

The other day, it struck me that this is probably the first war, and certainly the first major global conflict, whose one hundredth anniversary could become so digital. As 1914-1918's digital renaissance takes on further zeroes and ones, it is fitting, I think, to consider the  novel technological ways in which we can invite the Ghosts of 1914 to become part of our lives--our awareness, our everyday existence. 

On that note, the good folks at an exciting multimedia history education project, hstry, have shared with me that they are having a most interesting event later this month: a reenactment of Franz Ferdinand's 1914 assasination on Twitter. Here are the details:

hstry: Franz Ferdinand's Assasination Relived on Twitter!

What's more, hstry's blog will be featuring stories from a journey through WWI family history. Stay tuned for that!

While I'm delighted and intrigued at hstry's Twitter reenactment, don't be surprised to hear more on our avian Ghost of 1914, Cher Ami, quite soon...

Cheers,

Fiona

© Fiona Robinson

Lives of the First World War Project

Had to pause studying for finals to post this exciting news:

The IWM has just launched their incredible Lives of the First World War project!


On the project website, they say:

Imperial War Museums needs you to help piece together the Life Stories of more than 8 million men and women who made a contribution during the First World War.

How could I resist such a call to duty? Looking forward to getting started soon and I hope you'll join the ghosts of 1914 in this exciting endeavor! More of my own posts will arrive here at the blog soon too.

--Fiona

Springtime Tidbits

Hello Readers!

Some interesting WWI tidbits from around the ether:

Is it true that all ten brothers in the Calpin family of York went to war AND returned alive? It's not the most reliable source, but the Daily Mail has been featuring some intriguing stories of WWI lately and this one really caught my eye. Might warrant some further research:

"Band of TEN Brothers: When the Call Came to Serve..."

Then, on my local public radio station, there were the following excellent programs and series (the first two of which explore counter-factual histories (an interesting genre)) about WWI:

• NPR's "What if World War I Had Never Happened?"
• All Things Considered: "A World Without World War One"
• Forum: "The Music of War"

Enjoy and stay tuned for more!

Fiona

Love and Filmic Ephemera

"Forget Me Not" WWI decorated needlepoint token. Image from: Needleprint, May 2010.

Happy Valentine's Day to you, dear readers!

I wish you a day on which you feel assured or simply hopeful about love's presence and power in your own life and in a global sense too.

In honor of this holiday, I might direct you to past posts about chocolate and Valentine's postcards or sweetheart brooches.

Today, I'll add to this little collection of sweet treasures a couple of film snippets found in the IWM's online collections. They capture a few moments of WWI-era weddings, whether that of a Canadian officer at St. James's church, Picadilly or that of the 1916 wedding of Field Marshal French's son. I can't seem to upload thumbnails of the videos here, but click on the links and watch, and then come back!

In the first film's case, the bride and groom emerge on the church steps after their ceremony. It is fascinating to notice that, in this early era of "moving pictures," the happy couple and their wedding party are at first quite static, posing for photographs. Then, perhaps prompted by the man behind the movie camera, they launch into (somewhat self-conscious looking) motion, talking and interacting with the flower girls and bridesmaids who hold giant baskets of posies. Clearly, these pleasantries are staged, with darting glances at the cameras indicating the couples' awareness of being on film.

The second wedding is a portion of WWI-era newsreel, only the opening act in a set of footage that includes military operations and geographical documentary. The couple in question, the Honorable John R. L. French and his wife, Olivia, whisk past the cameras in the first few seconds of the reel. He wears his uniform and she is clothed in a veritable cloud of white, veils and dress sailing across the frame and into their car. Lest we feel denied more of an onlooker's pleasure in the happy occasion, we are next presented with a sequence filmed at the groom's family home. We see the newlyweds strolling in the garden with John's mother. While Mr. French looks rather serious and tends to avert his gaze, the new Mrs. French smiles blithely and moves with quite impressive ease in front of the mechanical eye of the camera. Ultimately, they play with pets and walk confidently towards us down a beautiful tree-lined path, as though the stars of a feature film marching right up to the celluloid boundary that separates the viewer's world and theirs.

"We're off to see the Wizard!" © Warner Brothers, image from "I Heart the Talkies."

If the last seconds of the wedding film remind us of something like the above famous film scenes, it is only because of our post-1939 perspective, of course. And yet, by the 1910s, film acting was its own art, and viewers understood a range of tropes as conveyed in this medium (such a topic deserves its own post). Suffice it to say that the happy couple in the French wedding footage, as they walk down that path along with the elder Mrs. French, appear confident, energetic, and perhaps relieved that their time on film is coming to a close.

Weddings on film, as the two WWI-era examples show us, were the modern way to publicize society marriages, something which, in one form or another, was nothing new. And yet, the dynamic sight of a bride sweeping down the church steps all in white or a happy couple together, enjoying the greenery and simple pleasures of a garden, was no doubt a thrill and an encouragement to this particular era's viewers. Other war footage was not far behind (and in fact was joined to the French wedding scenes as part of a larger news program). Thus, these fleeting glimpses of post-ceremony smiles or the swish of veils and skirts would have linked an often tense and unpredictable wartime moment with farther-reaching eras, traditions, and celebrations. Life did go on, and weddings and wartime were not mutually exclusive.

Donald and Flossie Tutt. © The Centre for Kentish Studies

I realize that this post has taken a somewhat serious tack, though Valentine's Day is not usually the most serious holiday in the calendar. But amid all of the candy, cards, gifts, phone calls, joys, and disappointments that this day can bring in all its many forms, these bits of filmic ephemera show us that love conquers all.

© Fiona Robinson

Happy Burns-/ Birth- day!

Burns' Birthday Celebration poster, 1914. © IWM (Art.IWM PST 10951)

Greetings and a happy new year to you, Readers!

I've just returned from a birthday trip to Los Angeles and am here to share with you this timely and amusing poster marking a "Burns' Birthday" celebration held at London's Royal Albert Hall on January 23, 1915.

Today's treasure (from the IWM's archives) promises a "Grand Scotch Festival and Patriotic Concert" to support the Belgian Relief fund. It is interesting to note that the 18th century Scottish poet's honorary festival was linked in such a fashion to the modern conflict, still new in early 1915. That the event was held in one of the most recognizable of London's Victorian landmarks bridges the space in between, making the concert a connector of three centuries.

Traditionally, Burns's birthday (January 25th) is celebrated with a supper. It begins, according to Wikipedia, with the saying of the "Selkirk Grace," a 17th century prayer that goes like this:

Some have food and cannot eat,

And some would eat that lack it,

But we have food and we can eat,

So let God be thanked. 

This prayer, if said at the 1915 occasion, would have been particularly apt, considering the event's goal of raising money for the Belgian Relief Fund. In 1915, rationing had not yet begun in the United Kingdom (it would not start until 1917), so we might assume that most attendees would not be noticing food shortages. The international Commission for Relief in Belgium, however, was focused on severe food shortages that hit the Belgian populace after the German invasion of 1914. Based in London, it was headed by future U.S. President Herbert Hoover. Financial support from donors enabled the complicated political, diplomatic, and logistical work of the CRB. Ultimately, the commission was able to organize shipments of millions of pounds of food to Belgium over the war years. 

Part of the food items shipped to the starving nation consisted of flour. The sacks in which the precious grain product were sent became both a practical and emotional resource. They were often used for clothing, but many grateful citizens embellished them to express thankfulness and devotion to the nations who had helped them. Here is an example in the Hoover presidential archive:

"Thank you to the American Commission",
Embellished flour sack, 1915 © Hoover Presidential Archives, Item  64.2.202.

The Hoover archive holds an extraordinary collection of these flour sacks, with useful information on this unusual aspect of WWI material culture.

Heading back to the Burns' day festivities at the Royal Albert Hall in 1915, it seems a remarkable affair, with as much pomp and circumstance as could be mustered to honor the Scottish poet and to support Belgian citizens. Though traditional Burns day activities are rather light-hearted, including dancing and the toasting of a haggis with Burns's poem, "Address to a Haggis", the levity of this particular day's music and other aspects would have been tempered with the gravity of purpose and patriotism.

I don't have more information on the performers and groups listed on the poster. I'd like to poke around in the archives and elsewhere online to find out more and, if successful, will post the results!

And with that, we'll sign off and wish you a happy new year and a happy Burns day, should you be celebrating!

© Fiona Robinson