Abstract
Jonathan Boff’s important new study uses Crown Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, commander of the German Sixth Army, and then the Army Group principally opposing the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) on the Western Front, as a lens through which to examine the somewhat overlooked subject of German operational art during the First World War. One can draw parallels between Haig’s Enemy and Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson’s seminal 1992 work Command on the Western Front, which analysed the operations of the BEF through the experiences of the Fourth Army commander General Sir Henry Rawlinson. This book was one of the first to kick-start a revisionist school of thought that sought to re-examine myths and misperceptions about the British army’s performance during the First World War, helping inspire the so-called ‘learning curve’ concept of improving British military effectiveness. While the learning curve idea has rightfully been criticized as too simplistic, it has nonetheless influenced a growing number of studies that have subsequently reinforced the central message, namely that by 1918 the BEF had developed into a sophisticated and effective fighting force. But while operational-level studies of the BEF have flourished, the same cannot be said for the German army. In seeking to redress this historiographical imbalance, Boff shows how learning and adapting to the challenges of modern warfare was not solely the preoccupation of the British. In fact, contrary to popular myth, the Western Front was a competitive, dynamic, and interactive learning environment, where all sides (British, French, and German) developed and employed new ideas and solutions in response to those implemented by their opponents. Which side learned the correct lessons fastest and why? Boff’s persuasive contention here, and one which he first developed in his impressive 2012 debut, Winning and Losing on the Western Front, is that ultimately it was the Allies who prevailed but not just because, in the end, they got it right, rather that German military failure also played an integral part.
Haig’s Enemy comprises 26 chapters, arranged into five parts, taking a predominantly chronological approach as it analyses German military operations via Rupprecht’s experiences. This takes the reader on a fascinating journey: from Rupprecht’s pre-war life to the opening frontier battles with the French army in 1914; through the attritional struggles of the second battle of Artois, the Somme and Third Ypres in 1915–17; to the German spring offensives and capitulation in the autumn of 1918; before finally chronicling Rupprecht’s post-war life, as he initially scurried off into exile under a false passport, eventually being granted safe passage home, allegations of war crimes, dealings with Hitler and avoiding the Gestapo. In so doing, Boff provides not only the first English-language biography of one of Imperial Germany’s most prominent figures but also an accessible, well-written and meticulously researched book that challenges a number of assumptions about the First World War, the German army and the nature of military learning and adaptation.
Notwithstanding Boff’s main argument concerning the multifaceted nature of military learning and adaptation, four other key conclusions emerge from his analysis. First, contrary to the widely held view that the German army of the First World War was a finely tuned, flexible, and pragmatic instrument of war, Haig’s Enemy reveals an army riddled with cliques and patronages, where successive high commanders – Moltke, Falkenhayn, Hindenburg, and Ludendorff – constantly micromanaged the operations of their subordinates. This highly personalized system was ‘the default setting of German command’ (p. 277), resulting in a distorted, unrealistic, and exaggerated intelligence and reporting system which stifled the army’s ability to learn and adapt successfully.
Second, in keeping with the works of historians such as David Zabecki and Robert Foley, Boff paints a picture of an army obsessed with seeking tactical solutions to resolve operational and even strategic problems – the evolution of German defensive doctrine and the 1918 spring offensives being the most obvious examples. This arrogant fixation with tactics blinded the high command to Germany’s strategic predicament, leading it to convince itself time and time again that it could win an unwinnable war.
Third, while Haig’s Enemy is concerned predominantly with examining German military practice, we also learn a great deal about the Allied armies. In particular, for Rupprecht it was the French army, not the BEF, which posed the greatest threat. Although acknowledging their bravery and tenacity, Rupprecht believed the success of British troops owed more to weight of numbers and materiel, than to improving tactical methods. Nevertheless, politically, the Germans judged London, not Paris, to be the Allied centre of gravity, hence the decision to target the BEF in the spring of 1918.
The fourth, and final, important strand to emerge from Haig’s Enemy concerns the individual at the centre of Boff’s biography. Rupprecht’s was a long (he died in 1955 at the age of 86), distinguished, and somewhat tragic life. Born into the nineteenth-century European monarchy, he was widely respected within German military circles for his dignity, integrity, and dedication. He was a professional who took his work seriously and was more than capable of inspiring his men. Certainly he was not one of history’s ‘great captains’ but, as Boff rightly points out, for much of the war he did succeed in containing repeated Allied attacks. Within the space of those four years, however, Rupprecht lost not only the war and his throne, but also suffered personal tragedy when his 13-year-old son, Luitpold, died of polio (Rupprecht had also lost his wife and three of their five children before the war).
More than simply a biography, Haig’s Enemy is a fresh, engaging, and thought-provoking book that should appeal to both academics and casual readers alike. Above all, it reminds the reader that the war of 1914–18 was a truly international event and that there are always two sides to every story. In this respect, Boff’s findings make an important and very welcome contribution to the ongoing academic debate concerning military learning and adaptation during the First World War.