Douglas Haig
“The Master of the Field”, “The Man who won the War”, “The Butcher of the Somme”: there’s nothing balanced about the many assessments made about the British Field Marshal over the years. Then again, there was practically nothing balanced about the man. A dour Scot from a family of whiskey distillers, Haig was a man of few words and even less charisma. He was also a fanatical Presbyterian—so much so that he believed God had informed him directly that he would lead the British and Canadians to victory on the Western front. But his faith also shaped his loyalty: to his men, to his country and to the Empire.
Haig took over the British Expeditionary Force in December 1915, relieving old friend and colleague John French. French’s replacement was inevitable; ironically French struggled to understand French, and would often leave meetings with his counterpart Charles Lanrezac with both unclear as to what they’d agreed. Haig was more suited to modern warfare than his predecessor. Willing to grind out attritional warfare, he adopted a “bite and hold” philosophy, combining the power of artillery, infantry, tanks and air support. Losses were huge, especially at the disastrous bloodbaths of the Somme and the Passchendaele. But this was inevitable, given the destructive power of the war’s defensive weaponry. And if he’s to be held accountable for these losses, Haig is also credited for the British Army’s steamrolling succession of victories after August 1918.
A barrage of criticism can be directed at Haig, as it can at other generals of the First World War. By modern standards, the lifestyle he led behind the frontlines was contemptible. From the comfortable safety of one châteaux or another, he consigned hundreds of thousands to their deaths. While theirs was a life of rats and rations, his was one of quail eggs and flowing champagne. But, though hindsight may judge him heinously, there was calculation and commitment to his cause. After issuing the “backs to the wall” command, at the apex of the German Offensive in 1918, he and his staff went several nights spent without sleep, organizing the counterattack that won the war.
For the most part, Haig’s contemporaries respected him, John Monash calling him: “calm, resolute, hopeful and buoyant”. Given the context, buoyancy could admittedly be confused for callousness, and considering the millions who died under his direction Monash could have chosen a better adjectival complement. But the biggest testament to Haig’s popularity among the broader populace came not from other generals but from those he’d led and saved. When Haig’s funeral was broadcast on the BBC on February 3 1928, it’s estimated that at least one million people watched.