Ach! Was Für ein Schöner Krieg

Sturmback Saturday returns yet again to the final summer of World War I. Looking back on history from today's point of view, reinforced by the sort of gung-ho American and allied cartoons which have tended to show up in these posts, it's easy to think that allied victory was in sight in the summer of 1918.

German editorial cartoonists, however, were presenting a completely different picture to their readers.

"Der Trum auf der Flucht" by Richter in Ulk, Berlin, July 12, 1918

Two things I need to state right off the bat: first, some of these cartoons include racist content. It's not at all uncommon in cartoons anywhere in the last century (e.g., Dr. Seuss's wartime cartoons about the Japanese), and I have avoided using several cartoons that might otherwise have illustrated a point I was making. But they are integral to how people saw foreigners of any sort in those days, and I've let a few slip through today.

Second, my conversational German is limited to "gesundheit," "nach zweimal, bitte," and "langsam mit empfindung," so there are some puns and idioms here that I needed help to figure out. So, with that out of the way: the first cartoon above turns on a play on the words "Eiffel" and "zweifelhaft" (meaning "doubtful").

"Die Kunst im Keller" by M. Richter in Ulk, Berlin, July 26, 1918

In July, the German army was still lobbing shells toward Paris from their huge "Paris-Geschütz" in the hills some 75 miles to the northeast, the longest-range weapon to date. German cartoonists fancied every Parisian having to scuttle from cellar to cellar all day, every day. Yet while the missiles certainly did cause considerable damage, the destructive power of the shells was limited by the relatively small amount of explosive material that could be packed into the thick, heavy shells; and by the fact that they couldn't be targeted to specific locations. 

Come August, the German army would be in retreat, hauling their Paris-Geschütz with them and destroying it and the plans of its construction.

"In der New-Yorker City" by Erich Schilling in Simplicissimus, Munich, August 4, 1918

German shells couldn't reach New York, and U.S. law enforcement was effectively cracking down on German-American saboteurs. Accordingly, the two-pronged propaganda line from German media against America was that American troops were suffering heavy casualties, and that they weren't a significant addition to the war anyway.

"Französische Abwehr-Reklame" by T.M. Leonhardt in Ulk, Berlin, July 5, 1918

The signs posted between the trenches in Leonhardt's cartoon promise that 500,000 Americans are on their way to the front, that Sioux Indians are coming, and more. I am told that Gustav's trenchmate is speaking with a Berlin accent, and that "Die mir!" translates to "They! Me!" in the sense of a dismissive "So they think they can impress me?!" A reputation Berliners have for being rather snooty is also at play here.

"Tin Soldiers" by Johannes Bahr in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, July 14, 1918

Johannes Bahr depicts Italian King Victor Emmanuel III (always shown as a tiny man in German cartoons), British Prime Minister David Lloyd George, and French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau rejoicing at the impending arrival of the Americans, only to be disappointed by Woodrow Wilson's "tin soldiers."

An explanatory note atop Bahr's cartoon alleges that "American troops are called tin soldiers by their allies." From the fact that the cartoon title is in English, I would assume the epithet to have origins somewhere in the British Empire, but I haven't found any confirmation to support the claim. The common nicknames for American soldiers were Yanks, Sammies, and doughboys. It is nevertheless true that the first American soldiers and airmen to arrive in Europe lacked adequate training and supplies, insofar as the U.S. did not have a standing army at the time.

"Die 'Enten'ritter" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, July 7, 1918

Arthur Johnson's cartoon above plays with the German word "enten" (ducks) as a pun on "Entente" by depicting Woodrow Wilson as a ludicrous Lohengrin — the legendary hero who arrives on a boat pulled by swans to protect a fair young duchess whom he forbids to ask him his name. (Marianne, of course, is the traditional personification of France.)

"Zur 'Einschränkung des Fremdenverkerhs'" by Arthur Johnson in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, July 14, 1918

Perhaps seeking to drive a wedge between the French and their allies, Johnson depicts the Americans and British as the guests who have overstayed their welcome, rather than the Germans whom the "tourists" were seeking to drive out of Marianne's parloir. Native Americans had been commonly used in European cartoons since colonial days to represent the U.S. (especially to imply it were a nation of savages). Taking this cartoon along with T.M. Leonhardt's above, I have to marvel that our Navajo "code talkers" ploy still baffled German intelligence a quarter century later.

As for any new restrictions on tourism which Johnson appears to be referencing, I suppose that must have been a German thing. Paris wouldn't seem to be an attractive tourist destination with German shells falling haphazardly from the sky. German cities were not being shelled, but were suffering food, fuel, and material shortages thanks to the Entente blockade

The Sammies were not the only troops whose participation in the war was belittled by German cartoonists.

"Wieter Können Wir Nicht, Kinder..." by Gustav Brandt in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, August 4, 1918

The note of explanation with this Gustav Brandt cartoon of hapless Canadian, Australian and South African unicorn riders says, "According to Swiss reports, British dominions no longer have confidence in a final victory." Certainly there was opposition, most notably in Quebec, to Canada's involvement in hostilities, and among Afrikaners to South Africa's. The cost of the war in Australian lives surely dampened the Diggers' initial gung-ho enthusiasm, too.

But the failure of the Central Powers' Spring Offensive to end the war sapped German popular support as well. And as Kladderadatsch's August 4 edition hit the streets, Entente forces were poised to counter with their 100 Days Offensive. All of the above allied countries and territories were deeply committed, and the offensive ultimately turned the tide of the war in favor of the Entente.

"Auch Haiti!" by Johannes Bahr in Kladderadatsch, Berlin, July 28, 1918

Still, if German media were dismissive of U.S., Canadian, Australian and South African participation in the war, they found Haiti's July 12 declaration of war utterly laughable. Occupied by the U.S. since 1915, Haiti had protested German U-boat activity in the Atlantic and Caribbean, particularly after the 1917 sinking of a French steamer with Haitian passengers and crew.

One of the panels in Bahr's cartoon comes close to being subversive, however, in that he notes how inflation was a serious problem in Germany, exacerbated by even the most insignificant bit of bad news.

✍

Many thanks to my guter Freund Winfried Schmidtpott for help unpacking such words as "Miessmacherstammtisch," which is the table at a neighborhood bar around which a bunch of populist, Gloomy Gus regulars traditionally gather to discuss weighty issues of politics and society.

But you already knew that.