Research Notes – The Great War (23) Max Beckmann, Artist

March 6, 2019February 28, 2019 ~ Meg ~ 11 Comments

“My heart beats more for a rougher, more vulgar art… one that offers access to the terrible, the crude, the magnificent, the ordinary, the grotesque, and the banal in life. Art that can always be right there for us, in the realest things of life.” Max Beckmann

Max Beckmann was born on February 12, 1884 in Leipzig, The Kingdom of Saxony, part of the newly established German Empire. He began painting as a youth, attempting to emulate the old masters, resulting in his early work following the classic, academic style. At the outbreak of war in 1914, Beckmann enlisted as a medical orderly and his experiences as such would forever change his art. Rather than continuing to paint traditional and realistic depictions, he began to distort figures and space —a demonstration of his altered view of the world and humanity within it.

In letters home, he wrote of his experiences as a medical officer, bringing the wounded to the hospitals for treatment: “…the sick lie naked on the table, often four or five of them. … With no sign of emotion, the doctors courteously show me the most horrible wounds. The sharp smell of putrefaction was hovering over everything, despite good ventilation and well-lit rooms. I was able to take it for about an hour and a half then I had to go out into the open landscape.”

Beckmann recreated this vision in his etching: The Large Operation, (1914):

Grosse Operation, Max Beckmann 1914 (courtesy MoMa)

After his discharge from the military, he transformed his art to reflect the horrors of war. Even those works not explicitly about the war are informed by it. Now his works —crowded with figures and details— were all jagged lines, broken planes and angular forms. The effect was unsettling and claustrophobic.

An example of this style can be seen in Playing Children (1918) in which the figures of the children are compressed into a tight circle. Adding to the sense of menace, most of the children wield weapons and engage in a violent mock battle.

Spielende Kinder; Max Beckmann, 1918 (courtesy MoMa)

Beckmann became quite successful in the years after the war. Many of his paintings portrayed the cabaret culture of post war Germany and the decadence that arose during the time of the Weimar Republic.

Dancing Bar In Baden-Baden; Max Beckmann, 1923

However, things changed with the rise of the Nazis. Adolf Hitler disliked Modern Art to the extent that it was suppressed by the state. Beckmann was labeled a “cultural Bolshevik” and his work declared degenerate. In 1937, Beckmann left Germany for the Netherlands and never returned.

In 1948, he moved to the United States but his tenure as an American was to be short lived. Only months after obtaining a professorship at the Art School of New York’s Brooklyn Museum, he suffered a heart attack and died at the corner of 69th and Central Park West, not far from the apartment he shared with his wife.

Header image: Self Portrait in a Tuxedo; Max Beckmann

Research Notes – The Great War (20) The Red Baron

November 28, 2018December 1, 2018 ~ Meg ~ 17 Comments

My research into the Great War has led me all over the place, some —ok, most— of the time to areas which will be completely irrelevant to my novel. Nevertheless, these forays into the history of the war have uncovered so many interesting and intriguing stories that I’m loath to shift my focus onto the more useful information for the novel. This is exactly what happened when I did a teeny, tiny bit of reading on The Red Baron for my drawing challenge this week. Of course I already knew the basics: German flying ace, noble family, bright red aircraft, killed in the final stages of the war. But there’s so much more to this fascinating character’s story. And no, it has nothing to do with Snoopy.

The second of four children and the oldest son, Manfred von Richthofen was born on May 2, 1892 near Breslau, in Lower Silesia. This region later became part of Poland after borders shifted back and forth during the two world wars. The von Richthofens were an aristocratic Prussian family, with the noble title ‘freiherr’, often translated as ‘baron’ but literally meaning ‘free lord’, applying to all male family members, even while the father was still alive. Thus Manfred and his two brothers, Lothar and Bolko were all ‘barons’ simultaneously with their father, Major Albrecht Philipp Karl Julius Freiherr von Richthofen.

Manfred’s early years were active and outdoorsy. After being educated at home, he began his military training at age eleven. His cadet training was completed in 1911 and he subsequently joined a cavalry unit in one of the West Prussian regiments. After the outbreak of war, von Richthofen served as a cavalry reconnaissance officer for the German army, seeing action not just on the Western Front in France and Belgium, but also on the Eastern Front in Russia. The nature of trench warfare made traditional cavalry operations near impossible and so after a short while, von Richthofen’s unit was removed from horseback and employed running dispatches and operating field telephone communication. Manfred found this boring and dissatisfying work and yearned for a more active role in combat operations. And so, his interest aroused after seeing the wreck of an enemy airplane behind the lines, he decided to apply for transfer to the Imperial German Army Air Service, later known as the Luftstreitkräfte.

His early piloting attempts were less than impressive; he crashed on his first try at flying, but he was determined and inspired to succeed by the likes of German flying ace, Oswald Boelcke. Over the course of his career, Manfred von Richthofen would score the highest number of victories: 80 planes shot down, more than any other pilot in the air services of the combatant nations.

Though he is most closely associated with the celebrated Fokker DR. I triplane, von Richthofen flew several types of planes over the course of the war: the Albatross C III, the Albatross D II, Halberstadt D II, and Albatross D III. And in fact, it was the Albatross D III that was first painted in his trademark red. The bright red color of the plane with the family title ‘freiherr’ combined to yield his nickname: The Red Baron. Despite the obvious risk in painting a plane a bright and distinctive color, the German command allowed it, even using the “Red Fighter Pilot” as a tool for propaganda.

The Red Baron was not invulnerable to attack, however. He was seriously wounded in combat in July of 1917, managing to pull his plane out of a spin at the last minute and force land in a field behind German lines. The injury he received to his head required several surgeries to remove bone splinters and is thought to have caused permanent damage. Changes in his temperament were noted as well as headaches and post-flight nausea. It has even been suggested that this injury contributed to his eventual demise.

On the 21st of April, 1918, Manfred von Richthofen flew to the rescue of his cousin, Lt. Wolfram von Richthofen, who was being fired upon by Canadian pilot, Lt. Wilfred May in his Sopwith Camel. The Red Baron fired on May and pursued him as he fled across the Somme. He was engaged by another Canadian pilot, Captain Arthur “Roy” Brown, causing him to turn to avoid the shots, after which he resumed his pursuit of May. It is during this time that the question and unresolved mystery of who killed the Red Baron arises. Manfred was shot by a single bullet, damaging his heart and lungs. Despite this fatal wound, he retained enough control to land his aircraft in a field just north of Vaux-sur-Somme, behind enemy lines. The Australian forces controlling that sector rushed to the downed plane in time to hear The Red Baron’s last words. Though the reports differ slightly, he apparently said some version of “kaputt.” The Fokker DR. I was not badly damaged in the landing but was quickly harvested by souvenir hunters.

As for the person responsible for taking down The Red Baron, initially the credit was given to Captain Brown for shooting him down. This was later questioned because of the direction from which the fatal shot was fired. The bullet entered beneath von Richthofen’s right armpit and exited near the left nipple. At the time of the shooting Brown was above and to the left of The Red Baron’s plane, an impossible position to have caused that wound. More likely, the wound came from anti-aircraft guns on the ground.

One –and probably the best– candidate for the man responsible for the demise of The Red Baron is Sergeant Cedric Popkin, a machine gunner with the Australian 24th Machine Gun Company. He fired twice at The Red Baron, once as the plane was flying straight at his position and a second time, from the right and at long range. It is this second shot that likely proved fatal to the flying ace.

Still, the questions remain about The Red Baron’s actions that day. His normally prudent behavior in flying combat missions seems to have been thrown to the winds. Could the earlier head injury have impaired his judgement? He flew too low over enemy territory and he flew too fast for safety. Both behaviors were uncharacteristic in the flying ace. Perhaps the combination of the injury, post-traumatic stress (combat fatigue) and the desperation for wins in those waning days of the war all contributed to the recklessness of that final flight.

Whatever the case, The Red Baron was so respected by his enemies that the Australian officer in charge of the burial gave Manfred von Richthofen a full military funeral with members of Number 3 Squadron AFC acting as pall bearers and a guard of honor. The Red Baron was laid to rest in a small village cemetery near Amiens and afterwards members of the Allied squadrons stationed nearby brought memorial wreaths to the grave to honor “Our Gallant and Worthy Foe.”

The Great War – Research Notes (2) The Schlieffen Plan

January 31, 2018January 30, 2018 ~ Meg ~ 22 Comments

A trip to Belgium in 2013 was the inspiration to write a short story called Here Lies a Soldier. After I finished, I posted it and thought that was the end. The characters, however, had something else in mind altogether. Thus, I find myself immersed in the history of The Great War so as to write the most authentic story of that time that I can.

The outbreak of war in 1914 had been planned in advance for nearly twenty years. In those preceding decades, the maneuvering for power on the Continent among the players who finally declared against each other in the early days of that fateful August, had resulted in their political and military leaders preparing plans for all the potential scenarios that might arise in the case of a general European war.

Of all the plans that had been drafted, the most important of them was that of the Germans because ultimately, its execution turned a regional war into a world war. It was called The Schlieffen Plan after it’s author, Count Alfred von Schlieffen, who served as the Chief of the German General Staff from 1891 to 1906. The bulk of the plan had already been formulated by 1895. Minor modifications and what can only be called tampering, were the only changes that were made to the plan after Shclieffen’s retirement.

The plan went like this:

Shielffen concluded, based on the alliances formed during his tenure, that Germany would have to fight a two front war. France had allied with Russia, therefore any war involving either of those parties would inevitably drag the other into the fray. In those days the objective was to be the fastest to mobilize. The first army to get into position would ultimately be the victor, or so it was thought. Schlieffen calculated correctly that the German army would be the fastest to mobilize, with the French second fastest and the Russian army the slowest.

If Germany could rush into position, Shlieffen believed, the two front war could be avoided. With a massive push against France in the opening weeks of a confrontation, the speedy German forces could overwhelm the French before the Russians had their troops mobilized. After quickly defeating the French, they could now send the full force of the German war machine against the sluggish Russians.

For this plan to work, several assumptions were made. One, that an engaged French army would launch an attack into the region of Allsace-Lorraine– the former French regions lost to the Germans in the Franco-Prussian War of the 1870’s. This would leave the Western borders of France weak and vulnerable. The main wing of the German army would march west, drop down through Belgium (unopposed, or so they thought) and have the French forces surrounded from The English Channel on the west to the defensive forces engaging the French offensive in Alsace-Lorraine on the east. The whole thing would take no more than six weeks. Paris would be captured and the Germans could turn their attention to the Russian army on the extreme eastern front.

Shlieffen said, “Let the right-flank grenadier brush the Channel with his sleeve.”

However, for Germany to launch the massive and speedy offensive into Western France, neutral Belgium had to be invaded. The original Shlieffen plan also called for an intrusion into a small section of the Netherlands. Schlieffen had calculated (wrongly) that, despite a treaty guaranteeing Belgium’s neutrality and Britain’s promise to uphold such, the British would stand idly by while ‘little Belgium’ was violated by the massive two million man German offensive. That alone would not prove to be the only downfall of The Schlieffen Plan.

When Schlieffen retired in 1906, he was replaced by Helmuth von Moltke, nephew of the great Field Marshall Helmuth von Moltke, director of the Wars of German Unification and military counterpart of Otto von Bismarck, the political might behind the Kaiser of united Germany. The namesake did not live up to his uncle’s reputation, however. He himself acknowledged this. Reportedly confessing to a friend he said, “I lack the capacity for risking all on a single throw.” And that kind of nerve was exactly what the Shlieffen Plan demanded in order to be successful.

Shlieffen had insisted that the strength of the right wing was critical to the success of the plan. Moltke weakened that very wing by reallocating troops (unnecessarily) to strengthen the defensive position in Alsace-Lorraine. He also opted not to violate Holland’s territory as well as Belgium’s, which meant the massive German wing (three armies) was squeezed though a narrow thirty-five mile gap between the Belgian/Holland border and the Ardennes forest. This also meant they had to fight their way past Belgium’s strongest defensive position – the fort at Liege.

Long story short – the Belgian army did not roll over and let the Germans pass. They put up a hell of a fight, slowing them down and totally disrupting the aggressor’s timetables. Additionally, the British did not stand idly by and let Belgium, whom they had sworn to defend, be invaded by the German army. They quickly declared war on Germany and sent the British Expeditionary Force into the fray.

The Germans had thought the Schieffen Plan guaranteed them victory within three or four months. And what it really guaranteed was that if victory was not achieved in that time, it would not be achieved at all. The two front war they hoped to avoid was now the reality. A reality that quickly became a nightmare.

Images via: Spartacus-educational, Wikipedia, and Britannica