Abstract
On 14 May 1940, 4 days after the commencement of the German invasion of France and the Low Countries, the German Army crossed the river Meuse at Monthermé, Dinant and Sedan. Establishing a strong foothold on the western banks of the Meuse, it was the beginning of the end. On 15 May 1940, The British Prime Minister Sir Winston Churchill, while he was still in bed, was summoned by Paul Reynaud, his French counterpart:
He spoke in English and evidently under stress. ‘We have been defeated’. As I did not immediately respond, he said again: ‘We are beaten; we have lost the battle’. I then remarked: Surely it can’t have happened so soon? But he replied: ‘The front is broken near Sedan; they are pouring through in great numbers with tanks and armoured cars.
1
On 22 June, an armistice was signed by France and Germany. It concluded a staggering campaign. The juggernaut of the combined forces of the French Army, the British Expeditionary Force (BEF), the Dutch, Belgian forces as well as those of Luxembourg were swept away by a German Army, following a doctrine of manoeuvre warfare that shaped military operations ever since.
The book Useless Mouths: The British Army’s battles in France after Dunkirk May-June 1940 by Peter Whelan provides a compelling insight into the efforts of the BEF to stem the tide of war. A series of shortcomings are highlighted:
The concept of each unit being self-sustaining failed with the fire support for the battalion. In comparison with its German equivalent, which had six 81cm mortars and 12 medium machine gun under direct command, it was always inferior in armaments and was also outnumbered by 200 men. In addition the German regiment, the British Brigade equivalent, had a dozen further machine guns, a dozen 37mm anti-tank guns, six 105mm guns and two 150mm howitzers for direct fire support. (p. 31)
In the light of unfolding events, the British however, were more than capable of mounting successful counter-attacks, although all carried out in a piecemeal fashion and with little alignment and coordination with their allies. Their most potent weapon was the Matilda Mark II infantry tank. Most German tanks and anti-tank guns – apart from the high velocity 88 mm anti-aircraft gun – could not penetrate the front armour of a French B1, S35 or British Matilda Mark II. In the air and on the ground, the BEF constituted a formidable force.
What then, if not the lack of firepower, explains the lacklustre performance of the BEF? Whelan indicates a dependency on the French High Command and, in particular, on Gaston Billotte, who was tasked on 12 May to coordinate the operations of the French, Belgian armies and the BEF (commandeered by John Standish Surtees Prendergast Vereker, 6th Viscount Gort). Such coordination was doomed right from the beginning, as the overall French and British doctrine was one of a methodical battle. As Frieser commented,
Around the turn of the century, the operational concept of manoeuvre à posteriori had been fashioned in the French army, mainly under the man who would later be Marshall Foch. Accordingly, the operations plan was to be drafted only after the start of the fighting, once sufficient information was available on the enemy’s presumed intentions. In that way, one could respond to all eventualities at the right time. But the principle of manoeuvre à priori was discarded; it called for spelling out a precise plan even before the start of the operation.
2
Whelan provides ample evidence of the ‘shackles’ of a methodical battle that the BEF was operating under. He argues that ‘Gort’s decision to act under Billote should have been stopped or either Gort replaced as a tactical commander’ (p. 145). The latter criticism is addressed at Gort, being a commander who operated in the realm of World War I, one of commanding forces in a controllable environment. In contrast, German commanders were expected to establish a real-time sensitivity to their front-line operations, by leading from the front, to make intuitive decisions in an energetic, dynamic and often daring manner.
Whelan provides the reader with a compelling account of the BEF being ‘imprisoned’ by outdated doctrinal thinking, a dependency on an ally who was bound to the legacy of the bloodshed of the World War I, as well as a high command that did not learn the lessons in an account of an enemy who was not out to ‘outfight’ but to ‘outsmart’ the French and their allies. Ultimately, it was the soldier on the ground who bore the brunt of mistakes at the higher echelons, with disastrous consequences.