Different views
Paris was determined to retake its occupied territory. To bring that about, repeated attacks on the German flanks in Artois and Champagne would be needed to drive the Germans out of their deep salient in France.
The British strategy served, in turn, the interests of London. Control of the English Channel and the North Sea were necessary to protect Britain’s supply lines and safeguard it from invasion. So the British focus was on Flanders and its ports. Ever since the war began, the British high command had aspired to a ground offensive in Flanders and a maritime landing at Zeebrugge.
It was as if France and Britain had become allies against their will. Along with centuries-old grievances, and cultural and linguistic differences, there was above all a lack of any overarching authority. Despite a common aim, there was no unity of command. Their collaboration proved problematic as a consequence.
© National Library of ScotlandTo a unified command?
Ever since 1914, the French high command had been seeking to gain the upper hand, while the British clung to their separate identity. In early 1917, tensions reached fever pitch. Robert Nivelle, the French commander in chief, was determined to make British commanders subordinate to him. Britain’s Field Marshal Douglas Haig reluctantly agreed, but ensured he would have freedom of movement if Nivelle’s upcoming offensive in Champagne should fail. Which it did, monumentally.
© BDIC_VAL_208_160"Never has our army been more highly trained, more valiant, in possession of more powerful means. It is under these brilliant auspices that the year 1917 opens. You will make it a year of victory."
"Une année de victoire"
French losses were astronomical, progress nil. Mutinies broke out. Proud Nivelle had to cast his dignity aside like an old coat and was sent packing. The French army had become a giant with feet of clay. Philippe Pétain, its new commander, was forced to abandon France’s offensive strategy. France had no choice but to go on the defensive and wait for the arrival of the Americans.
Haig meanwhile was laughing up his sleeve. His turn had come. The moustachioed Scot could already smell the salty air of the Flemish sea ports.
© Nationaal Archief 2.24.09 158-2352
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