The apogee of the Australian infantry’s development on the Western Front came in 1918, after its amalgamation as a five division corps under Sir John Monash. In an Australian dress rehearsal for its part the coming Battle of Amiens in August, the Australians conducted a limited offensive at the Battle of Hamel on 4 July 1918. Thereafter, the Australian Corps maintained a level of battlefield effectiveness that was in keeping with the entire fielded British Expeditionary Force (BEF). By this point in the conflict, the longest serving Australian troops had been on the Western Front for about twenty months. British enabled, using British technology and tactics, the Australian infantryman individually and collectively had undergone the same learning process as the entire British Army. Australian troops were engulfed in the ‘industrialised-scale’ combat of the Somme campaign during 1916. These events precipitated the learning process. The year 1917 was a crucible in which newly introduced training, tactics and technology were refined and endorsed. Australians took part in the ill-conceived use of armour at Bullecourt during the Battle of Arras in 1917, and in the burgeoning use of bite-and-hold tactics at Messines in June 1917.

Within months of the arrival of the Australian Imperial Force (AIF) in France, a War Office Directive – No. 1968 of 15 October 1916 – directed that all troops enlisting in the Army undertake a fourteen-week standardised course of basic recruit training. This directive included all Dominion troops training in their own camps in the United Kingdom; and by early 1917, the British syllabus was incorporated as the core curriculum for training in the AIF’s depots in the United Kingdom. During the Great War, there was commonality in equipment, tactics and procedures among all British Empire infantry formations on the Western Front. Recruit training was the foundation of BEF infantry battlefield effectiveness, and the AIF recruit training process in England was entirely British. Standardisation underwrote the British Expeditionary Force’s (BEF) level of battlefield effectiveness during the second half of the Great War. This chapter details the significant physical and administrative resources allocated to establishing Australian recruit training schools on the Salisbury Plain between 1916 and 1918, and it emphasises that individual basic training in Wiltshire was elemental to the development of Australian infantry on the Western Front.

Bleak winter weather at the beginning of 1917 on the Western Front was a depressing omen for the New Year. During 1917, Tsar Nicholas abdicated. Late in the year, Russia withdrew from the conflict. In an attempt to starve Britain out of the conflict, Germany announced its policy of unrestricted submarine warfare in February, and America reversed its foreign policy and declared war against the Central powers in April. In 1917, French general Nivelle’s offensives along the Aisne River south of the Somme resulted in thousands of casualties for little gain. As a result, in late May and June after two and a half years war, mutiny swept through the French Army’s ranks. In Britain at the beginning of 1917, Welshman David Lloyd George was a new Prime Minister for a new year, and in Australia another Welshman, William Morris Hughes, had been recently re-elected as Prime Minister. Lloyd George came to openly criticise Haig during 1917; he was just as damning about the battles of attrition occurring in France. The year commenced with the experiences of the Somme and Verdun being codified into new training pamphlets and also brought the promise of further British offensives. For the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) these occurred initially at Arras and, later, further north in the Flanders near the Ypres Salient.

Newly trained and returning Australian soldiers undertook a reinforcement process after their arrival on the Continent in accordance with the British Army schooling system in France that trained troops in operating modern weapon systems. Contrary to popular belief, these schools and their associated processes and training pamphlets provided a robust and valuable education to Empire soldiers in preparing them for the rigours of combat. The training methodology was British Expeditionary Force (BEF) wide, and the development of Australian infantry can only be viewed in this context. The schooling system must be studied holistically as there was a disparate dissemination of doctrinal and training standards among the different British armies to which Australian infantry were allocated in 1917. An overview of the 1917 campaigns in which Australian infantry were involved provides further context. These campaigns show how army commanders had a very real influence on the application of the latest tactics and doctrine among their formations on the Western Front. Despite discrepancies, the overarching theme remains that the education methodology employed by the BEF comprised specificity in training and habituation and was a concept as old as the armies of Alexander the Great.

Leadership was central to the development of Australian infantry on the Western Front. Even Haig, who most often has the blame for the conduct of the war laid at his feet, realised the importance of leadership and training. There was an absolute ‘need for the training of battalion commanders’, he wrote in February 1918, ’who in their turn must train their company and platoon commanders. This is really a platoon commanders’ war’ Nevertheless, popular history today reviles British generals of the Great War as callous and negligent. The background for such perceptions is decades old and lies in the prose of a generation of war poets who wrote prolifically in the aftermath of the conflict. An infantry officer in 1917, Owen was diagnosed as suffering from shell shock and sent to Craiglockhart War Hospital in Edinburgh, Scotland where he wrote extensively. The difficulties faced by British commanders on the Western Front were significant and numerous. After 1916, the British high command was required to regenerate an army, grow a competent officer corps and develop and disseminate the doctrine necessary to win the war. Australian leadership shaped these events in the development of Australian infantry on the Western Front.

By the last year of the Great War, Australian infantry on the Western Front had developed to a highly capable and professional standard. The Anzac legend cannot account for this evolution; effectiveness was hard earned through the rigours of systematic training, and in a specialist schooling system common across the entire British Force. The corollary is clear. Australian infantry progressed because of their ties to the British Empire. Indeed, by the time that Australians arrived on the Western Front, monumental developments in small arms and quick firing weapons were precipitating a complete rewrite of the tactical methods employed by small infantry units in the BEF. Because of this, by 1918, effectiveness equated to standardised training, operational experience and technical mastery. The Anzac myth pays little credence to such matters – even less to the dull aspects of logistics and fire support, most of which was supplied to the Australian infantry by Britain. In concert with the wider force, by 1918, Australian infantry had developed to a point where they were well trained, technically savvy and battle hardened.

This chapter will focus on the platoon-level weapons systems utilised by Australian infantry on the Western Front from 1916–18. The introduction and use of these weapons occurred in concert with organisational and training developments that were concurrently occurring throughout the British Expeditionary Force (BEF). The weapon systems were in every sense the platoon-level tools of the trade during the Great War. Developments in their tactical application evolved significantly after the Somme campaign of 1916. In particular, the British and Imperial platoon weapons systems of 1916–18 comprised the rifle, bayonet, light machine-gun (LMG), grenade and grenade launcher. All of these weapons were used by the Australian infantry platoon and its subordinate elements, the section, in the last two years of the Great War. This chapter will focus on the technical detail associated with each system, and in particular the schooling systems in which Australian infantrymen learnt to operate and maintain their various weapons. This chapter will not discuss high-end weapons systems or combined arms operations – tanks, aircraft, artillery and the like – other than in the wider context of the development of infantry tactics.

By the end of 1914, a newly formed Australian Imperial Force (AIF) had accepted and deployed more than 20,000 Australian volunteers overseas to train and prepare for combat. The majority of them were sent to Egypt to train, thousands of miles and a hemisphere away. In the following four years, a further 290,000 followed. Most of these soldiers served as infantrymen – the great majority of them on the Western Front – and by the end of the conflict, they had earned a reputation as a highly effective and professional component of the wider British Army. This book examines the substance of this reputation. In particular, it examines the development of Australian infantry on the Western Front from 1916 to 1918 as a way of determining if this reputation is justified. This is where, in 1918, for perhaps the only time in the nation’s history, Australian infantry engaged the main enemy in a decisive theatre and defeated it.

The Great War of 1914¬–18 is often perceived in Britain and the former Dominions as bloody, stupid, ignorant, and unsophisticated in its conduct. Bloody it undoubtedly was. Over 900,000 British and Empire troops were killed, and nearly two million were wounded. Almost no family in the United Kingdom – nor the numerous Dominions for that matter – was left untouched. The British Empire fought in Africa, the Middle East, the Mediterranean, and as far away as German New Guinea. Yet, it was in Europe, in the great crucible of the Western Front, that the largest portion of British Empire casualties fell. The experience of the Australian Imperial Force (AIF) on the Western Front from 1916 to 1918 was inherent to the British Army’s experience. Australian infantrymen who arrived from the Mediterranean in 1916 went on to serve in almost every major British campaign on the Western Front until early October 1918. In those two years, the British Army underwent a learning process that resulted in a highly effective and disciplined force by the end of the war. The cost was high. By the November 1918 Armistice, tens of thousands of Empire troops were buried or remained unaccounted for in the shattered Picardy and Flanders landscapes.

Australian infantrymen were rigorously prepared for operations on the Western Front, and this is the basis of the notable successes of the Australian Imperial Force (AIF) during the war. It is relevant to note that the popular history of Australian infantry in the Great War does not include commissioned officers. As it goes, there are significant differences between the modern memory of Australian Great War infantrymen and the reality of their contributions and experiences. One is based in myth, the other a practical training and reinforcement process. The myth had its heritage in the Anzac legend, though the training regimen was equally important to service in the British Expeditionary Force (BEF). Both have contributed to a generally positive and enduring legacy. There were significant differences in the training received by those troops who enlisted in 1914 in comparison with the rigour of training undertaken by those who enlisted from 1916 to 1918. The factual history debunks the ‘super human’ qualities that Australian popular history sometimes bestows on its Great War infantrymen. Such matters are important; it is perhaps the body of men who served on the Western Front – and their battlefield record – that are the foundation for the Anzac legend. Indeed, the extraordinary deeds of the 1st AIF contrasted with the very ordinariness of the Australian troops themselves.

This chapter explores how the concept of the collective entered into and helped to shape important works of literature during and after the Second World War. It takes the ubiquitous wartime speeches of Winston Churchill as a key site for articulating the idea of the ‘people’s war’, offering a reading of these ubiquitous texts. In relation to Churchill’s version of a collective wartime identity and experience, the chapter looks at writings by H. G. Wells, Virginia Woolf, and George Orwell, all of whom wrote passionate and deeply felt works that offer their own assessment of the idea of people’s war, or of the collective more generally, as a social project. Ultimately, the chapter suggests that the problem of the collective in wartime is a central one in literary modernism.

From the Frontier Wars to contemporary conflicts, this chapter considers the role of Australian poetry in shaping understandings of war. It includes early critiques of British command during the Boer War and national mythmaking around Breaker Morant. It then considers the patriotism and propaganda of poetry in World War I and the generation of the Anzac or digger myth in national identity. It considers the role of humour and the vernacular in popular poetry, and writing from the homefront. It traces the change in attitudes as World War I continued and resulted in a heavy loss of Australian lives. The chapter also considers poetry written during World War II and the Vietnam War. It considers how writers experimented with form and imagery to create a vehicle of protest, as well as to navigate disillusionment and loss. The chapter considers poetic engagements with a movement into perpetual war and conflict in the late twentieth century, including the role of media. Lastly, it considers the voices of asylum seekers and the role of poetry in protesting and critiquing government policy around border security.

The Russo-Japanese War makes several contributions to the dialogue between the historical record and the theory of war. First, it shows how war due to commitment problems requires not only shifting power but also a state’s inability or unwillingness to control its power. In this case, Russian uncertainty over Japan’s willingness to fight explains both the outbreak of war and Russia’s expansion into Manchuria in the first place. Second, it shows how fighting can make commitments credible that weren’t beforehand: by disabusing Russia of its optimism about war with Japan. Third, the modern theory of war can explain why Japan’s share of the peace settlement didn’t reflect its dominant military performance: The deal reflected the likely outcome of a fight to the finish, pitting Japanese military superiority against Russian access to credit. Finally, the war’s outcome – Russian weakness and subsequent recovery – is a proximate cause of World War I.

This chapter argues that the division of Korea has been wrongly attributed to Cold War tensions between the United States and the Soviet Union. Instead of being a result of the Cold War, the division itself was a cause of the Cold War. This chapter traces the history of US-Korean relations back to the nineteenth century, highlighting the growing interest of Americans in Korea which placed political pressure on US policymakers to support Korea in 1945. The chapter shows that American interest in Korea predated concerns over Soviet expansionism and was driven by factors such as the spread of Christianity in Korea, the desire to prevent Japanese domination in East Asia, and a sense of obligation stemming from a treaty signed in 1882. By reexamining the historical context of US involvement in Korea, the chapter challenges the prevailing Cold War narrative and offers a fresh perspective on the origins of the Korean conflict.

The Japanese racial equality proposal of at the Paris Peace Conference of 1919 has long represented an important episode in understanding the role of race in international relations in the twentieth century. This chapter reconsiders the history of the Japanese proposal, asking why Japan raised the proposal, what responses it elicited at the peace conference and around the world, and why it was ultimately denied inclusion in the League of Nations Covenant. It concludes that although the proposal met with significant opposition at the conference, particularly from Australian leaders, and was eventually denied by US President Woodrow Wilson, it also found substantial support among the delegates gathered in Paris, including among the great powers. The proposal’s rejection, this chapter argues, was not foreordained but rather a contingent result of a complex train of events that unfolded over several months early 1919.

Chapter 9 interrogates ways in which violin culture meshed with ideologies of nation, whether the political territory of Britain or any of its constituent countries (England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales). The first of four case studies analyzes how journalism sustained an imagined sense of a string-playing community across Britain. The second suggests that during World War I violin culture contributed to the idea of a united Britain through efforts to supply stringed instruments to troops for recreational use and an advertising campaign that encouraged the purchase of British-made violins at home. The third section unpacks overlaps and fusions between violin culture and traditional fiddle playing, before discussing how traditional tunes from the Four Nations were appropriated by violin culture for domestic consumption and pedagogical benefit. The final section foregrounds the repertoire of newly composed classical works for string orchestra that were conceived as expressions of national identities. Arguing that this creativity was a by-product of violin culture’s growing vitality, the chapter demonstrates how suited stringed instruments were for raising consciousness of nation(s). (172)

Schoenberg’s years in Berlin (1901–3, 1911–15, 1926–33) can be written on the city as an evolving network of people, places and institutions that shifted from the margins to the centres of cultural life, only to be erased when he left for the last time in 1933. These three periods were marked by profound changes in his life and works, mirroring the cataclysmic transformations of Berlin and Germany as a whole. This chapter sketches out the story of Schoenberg’s three Berlins, using a map for each period to chart the changing locales of his life in the city as well as the dramatically expanding artistic and cultural spheres in which he operated. While Schoenberg often embraced the image of an isolated, misunderstood prophet, the reality was a person deeply engaged with the people and places around him.

Tarai was a landmass running along an east-west axis just to the south of the Himalayan ranges and was a part of Himalayan Kumaun ecology. At the stroke of independence, the colonialists had made plans to clear the Tarai and settle it with Indian soldiers returning from World War II. The task of actual clearing fell on the sovereign Indian government as the pressure to settle refugees piled on top of the plan to settle soldiers. With the nation struggling to meet its food requirements a new vision was born to turn the Tarai into a “granary” for the province. Under these contingencies, the Tarai became a landmass wherein new settlers were encouraged to perfect the art of productive agriculture. The post-colonial developmentalist state set up a model state farm to propagate such practices. To the outside developer and modernizer, Tarai came across as empty though, in fact, it was inhabited by a limited number of hill communities and villages. As Tarai was turned into a farming land with settlers from beyond, a local democratic movement for autonomy erupted in the region that called into question the method of land settlement and transformation.