Relief at the end of a war that still offers us lessons
The meeting of Marshal Foch and the German plenipotentiaries took place in the saloon of Marshal Foch’s railway car at Ebert, in the Compiegne Forest. Marshal Foch’s first question was: ‘‘Who are you, gentlemen?’’ Herr Erzberger replied: ‘‘We represent the German government, and we have come to solicit an armistice.’’
Those lines, reported in the Waikato Times of November 13, 1918, were the news the world – and New Zealand – had longed for: Germany had surrendered. World War I was over.
A conflict that had ravaged more than 30 countries and left almost 20 million people dead came to a quiet end in a railway carriage 64km from Paris.
After three days of negotiations led by Marshal Ferdinand Foch, commander-in-chief of the Allied armies, at 5am on November 11 a German delegation agreed that a ceasefire should take effect from 11am that day.
That moment, 100 years ago on Sunday, would reshape the world in ways still felt today. But in
1918 it brought delirious relief to those men still fighting after four long years of desperate, hellish war. At the time of the armistice 58,000 Kiwi troops were serving overseas, 24,000 on the Western Front alone.
New Zealand had joined the war at the earliest opportunity, thousands of young men enlisting in the first few weeks after it was declared in August
1914. ‘‘At the start of the war most New Zealanders saw themselves as this sort of loyal and committed part of the British Empire,’’ says Neill Atkinson, chief historian at the Ministry for Culture and Heritage. ‘‘There were shades of opinion, but the majority were proud to be part of the British Empire. They saw themselves not just as a farflung outpost but as an active participant and contributor.’’
After being dispatched to capture German Samoa and quell the threat in the Pacific, Kiwi troops were diverted to their first major theatre of the war – Gallipoli.
The stories of that tragic and futile campaign – a ‘‘baptism of fire’’ with a ‘‘doomed, somewhat romantic element to it’’, as Atkinson puts it – lose none of their potency at each fresh telling, and it will always hold a special place in the nation’s psyche as giving birth to the Anzac identity.
But the 2779 Kiwi deaths there were dwarfed by the numbers who fell on the Western Front from
1916 onwards. About 843 were killed on October 12,
1917, alone at Passchendaele, New Zealand’s worst day in any overseas war.
More than 12,400 were buried in France and Belgium or commemorated on the memorials to the missing, hundreds more dying in the UK, either in hospital or training. ‘‘The total toll for the Western Front would be over 13,000,’’ Atkinson said. ‘‘It had an enormous impact, and was more than the total number of New Zealanders who died in the whole of the Second World War.’’
By war’s end more than 18,200 Kiwi lives had been lost, almost a fifth of the near-100,000 who served, and 41,000 were wounded. New Zealanders, including 2200 Ma¯ ori, and 460 Pacific Islanders who fought alongside them, served with distinction, earning 11 Victoria Crosses.
But the human cost was devastating. Twelve pairs of brothers died on the same day, a father and son were killed, and six mothers each lost four sons. By October 1918 an Allied victory was imminent, with Germany being pushed back and her allies surrendering.
Kiwi troops were involved in one final push, liberating the French town of Le Quesnoy in an audacious attack on November 4, before a week later the ceasefire finally came.
Prime Minister William Massey received official word of the signing of the armistice from the British government late on November 11, before it was officially announced to New Zealand through newspapers and post offices the next day.
The Evening Star ran a headline on November 12 of ‘‘SURRENDER. GERMANS SIGN ARMISTICE’’, while The Press of November 13 records that, at 10.30am, ‘‘in the presence of an enormous and enthusiastic concourse of people’’ in front of Wellington’s Parliamentary Library, the governorgeneral announced the news, leading to a ‘‘wild outburst of cheering’’. Governor-General the Earl of Liverpool also had a message from King George V: ‘‘. . . I desire to send a message of greeting and heartfelt gratitude to my overseas peoples, whose wonderful efforts have contributed so greatly to secure the victory which is now won. Together, we have borne this tremendous burden in the fight for justice and liberty; together we can now rejoice at the realisation of those great aims for which we entered the struggle. The whole Empire pledged its word not to sheath the sword until the end was achieved. That pledge is now redeemed . . .’’
Work and school halted for celebrations, although many were curtailed by a flu pandemic. Mayors, politicians, church leaders and military men made speeches echoing words from Massey about pride in the empire and New Zealand’s contribution to the war, along with reassurances to those who lost loved ones that their sacrifices were not in vain. ‘‘There was a lot of talk around freedom and ensuring peace that would last,’’ Atkinson said. ‘‘It’s easy to be cynical in hindsight when we know that it wasn’t the war to end all wars, but at the time people legitimately had a faith that the world would not fall back into this tragedy again.’’
While World War I was complex and regarded by many as a squabble between ageing empires, it gave birth to newly independent states in Europe and paved the way for greater independence from Britain for dominions such as Australia, Canada and South Africa.
Debate about the causes of the war, the millions of dead and the idea that imperial powers were somewhat responsible has encouraged people today to focus more on the human experiences, Atkinson believes, a view echoed by RSA national president BJ Clark, himself a veteran of 21 years in the New Zealand army.
‘‘A lot of people lost their lives. Those that didn’t gave up a significant period of their lives, and those who weren’t killed came home often with severe injuries, physically and certainly mentally, and many struggled to fit back into society.
‘‘When I have been to Gallipoli and Passchendaele . . . you look down and pick out a grave and you think, ‘What would have happened? How would history have changed if that person wasn’t killed?’ The person lying in front of you could possibly have been a future business leader, teacher, academic or prime minister. Things we don’t often think about are how would this country actually be different had that war not happened?’’
Clark believes WWI, though 100 years ago, still offers a cautionary lesson to politicians of today and the future – particularly with the current global rise of Right-wing politics – to avoid the same mistakes. ‘‘Unfortunately wars are started by politicians arguing, then it’s Joe Average that goes and does the job and pays the price. Maybe one of the things we should think about on Armistice Day is our leaders should consider very carefully before they start sending the troops in.’’
That lesson lies in the 18,300-odd white crosses planted in a field of remembrance outside the Auckland War Memorial Museum, each bearing the name of a Kiwi lost in the war. ‘‘If anyone wants a reminder, including politicians, of the folly, futility, whatever word you want to use, look down on all those crosses and think about that for a minute. If we can learn from the past then perhaps we will have a better future. That is what it’s about – it’s remembrance and acknowledgement, not glorification.’’