The attack on Passchendaele on October 12, 1917, is remembered for its cost in human life. A new book by New Zealand author Dr Andrew Macdonald challenges old beliefs surrounding New Zealand's worst military disaster. He talks to Shane Gilchrist.
''I think it is just as well I did not write my diary daily whilst in Ypres. I think I may have told too many tales of woe.
"As it is now, nearly two months afterwards, I am not inclined to think of it too much, and as for writing of it, well it is out of the question.''
Gunner Bert Stokes, of the New Zealand Field Artillery, New Zealand Expeditionary Force, might have chosen not to disclose exactly what he witnessed during the Third Ypres offensive, yet his lack of words say plenty.
Fought in the summer and autumn of 1917 (July 31-November 10, 1917), the Third Ypres campaign ranks alongside the Somme (1916) as one of the bloodiest offensives of World War 1 (more than 260,000 Allied and German soldiers died as a result of the fighting).
The so-called Battle of First Passchendaele is regarded as New Zealand's worst military disaster.
On October 12, 1917, the New Zealand Division, which was part of II Anzac Corps, Second British Army, was ordered to take a foothold on Passchendaele Ridge.
The result of the mission: some 845 Kiwi soldiers were killed or lay dying in the black Flanders mud; about 1900 others were wounded.
In Passchendaele: The Anatomy of a Tragedy, New Zealand author Dr Andrew Macdonald examines the Third Ypres offensive in exhaustive detail, employing his combined skills as a military historian and journalist to analyse what happened in the lead-up to and during the battles, who was responsible for the deaths and injuries of thousands of New Zealand, Australia, British and Canadian soldiers, and why.
Speaking from London, where he has been based for the past eight years, Dr Macdonald says his interest in military history dates back to his childhood, when he inherited his great-grandfather's steel helmet.
Having worked as a correspondent for Reuters in London for eight years, Dr Macdonald last year stepped away from journalism to pursue his lifelong ambition to be a military historian.
Holding a PhD in World War 1 military history from the University of London, the author of 2005 publication On the Way to the Somme: New Zealand and the bloody offensive of 1916 is a specialist in deciphering how and why the battles of the Western Front unfolded as they did.
''I wouldn't say I'm an academic writer,'' Dr Macdonald says.
''Thankfully, what journalism teaches you is how to write succinctly and how to take on a massive amount of information, distil it and to do this at a quick clip. It also teaches you how to get to the heat of a story. I have definitely benefited from those skills.''
Though plenty has been written about Third Ypres, Dr Macdonald says his book is an attempt to set the record straight.
''When I visited the Somme, I was never convinced the existing written history of the New Zealand boys on the Western Front was the full story. I thought the same about Passchendaele; I always felt there was a much bigger story to be told.
''I didn't so much go out to correct the perceived facts but, inevitably, there were big holes in the existing story that needed to be researched and plugged in order to get to the bottom of what happened. More of these appeared as the research and writing got under way. It was pretty full-on,'' Dr Macdonald says.
The traditional story of Passchendaele is that it was the mud and rain that prevented artillery getting into position to effectively fire barrages to support the attacking infantry, who ultimately walked into well-planned German defensive killing zones on an area known as Bellevue Spur.
''It is factually correct to say the mud and rain affected the way in which the guns could be deployed - in that not enough could be deployed; and even then they weren't deployed in the correct positions to maintain a constant barrage,'' Dr Macdonald says.
''But is it as simple as saying the mud and rain stopped the artillery from doing its job at Passchendaele? No, not at all. That is blinkered and misleading.
''You need to look at the whole picture. Sure, the mud and rain were factors but they were not the root cause of the problem.''
Dr Macdonald points to the Canadian experience a few weeks after two brigades of the New Zealand Division were shot down on Bellevue Spur.
On precisely the same piece of ground, the Canadians succeeded in an identical set of environmental circumstances. In asking why, Dr Macdonald says the best place to start looking for answers is in the artillery-infantry-engineering relationship.
''The Canadian and New Zealand infantry were comparable in terms of skill and training. But what we see in the Canadian experience at Third Ypres is that they regarded the engineering effort as a priority. That then allowed the artillery to get into place, which in turn allowed the infantry to do its job.
''That is ultimately why the Canadian Corps captured Passchendaele village and secured a toehold on the ridge. That sits directly in contrast with the experience of II Anzac, which included the New Zealand Division.''
Dr Macdonald doesn't focus solely on tactics, however. He also examines, in detail, the notion of ''operational effectiveness'' - that is, how and why the battle unfolded as it did - and how this was influenced by a range of factors, including command hierarchy.
''Then you start to broaden the research net because, pretty clearly, the New Zealand Division was but one small cog in a massive machine that included the Australian formations to one side, British formations to another. How did the Kiwis fare in comparison with neighbouring divisions? These are important questions.
''It's just not enough to hope that a New Zealand-centric view will answer all these questions. It won't. In truth, all of these cogs affected one another and the result was the tragedy of October 12, 1917,'' Dr Macdonald says.
''You also need to ask some searching questions about command, both on the battlefield and at divisional and corps levels.''
Dr Macdonald puts Major-general Sir Andrew Russell, commander of the New Zealand Division, under the microscope, comparing and contrasting him with, among others, Major-general Sir John Monash, commander of the 3rd Australian Division.
''That then compels you to look at the next level of the hierarchy, which is corps level,'' Dr Macdonald explains.
He thus details the influence of Lieutenant-general Sir Alexander Godley, in charge of II Anzac Corps Headquarters and responsible for applying the tactical-level artillery, engineering and infantry units in its sector.
Lt-gen Godley also had a direct influence in setting the operational tempo (the number of days between each attack; the amount of time to prepare). The conclusion Dr Macdonald draws is hardly flattering.
''Godley demanded an operational tempo that was at odds with best practice, and was patently unfit for the conditions or purpose. That had spill-over effects for neighbouring corps and divisions.''
Responsibility is also placed at the feet of Field Marshall Sir Douglas Haig, commander of the British Army on the Western Front, ''for placing store in Godley's promises'', and General Sir Herbert Plumer, commander of the Second Army.
In contrast to Canadian commander Lieutenant-general Sir Arthur Currie, who Dr Macdonald asserts had a more realistic view of the challenges before him, Lt-gen Godley was out of touch with the reality of fighting in a waterlogged offensive.
''His decision to visit the battlefield after two failed attacks only serves to confirm that,'' Dr Macdonald says, adding that Lt-gen Godley wasn't interested in listening to the reflux of warning signals coming from the trenches, on to platoon commanders, battalion commanders, brigadiers and on to Maj-gen Russell.
''He was wedded to capturing Passchendaele and a footing on the ridge, come what may. And, to be blunt, for reasons that can only be described as selfish careerism.''
In short, Lt-gen Godley was purely interested in pushing the attack to whatever end, Dr Macdonald says.
''Had he been more open-minded, more willing to engage with his subordinates, the outcome might well have been different. If he had been a corps commander of Lt-gen Currie's calibre, then it is quite possible that the New Zealanders would have succeeded in their push up Bellevue Spur on October 12.
''But the cost was always going to be a very heavy casualty list.''
