The Endless Appeal of World War Two

How it asks us awkward questions

I am obsessed with World War Two. I wrote a sitcom about Bletchley Park called Hut 33. I wrote a (partially failed) novel about D-Day, codebreaking and crosswords called Crossword Ends in Violence (5). I wrote an unproduced pilot sitcom script about the crew of a bomber, called Dead Reckoning. I just can’t leave the subject alone. Why not?

Does this fascination need justification? After all, World War Two is the central event of the 20^th Century. Its roots go back to the 1910s, and arguably the conflict didn’t end until the collapse of the Soviet Union in the 1990s. We still live with the consequences of that today. But do the geopolitics justify the obsessive desire to know more and more about troop movements, submarine tactics and munitions production?

In the last couple of days, I was thrilled to see a  Supermarine Spitfire, a Mosquito, V1 and V2 bomb at RAF Cosford, and then all kinds of smaller arms at the Royal Armouries in Leeds. There was an anti-tank Piat, plus the only machine gun with a bayonet holder. It was made by the Japanese whose samurai culture meant they were much more interested in sharp blades than rapid-firing bullets. Isn’t that fascinating? No?

There’s a name for people like me. Listeners to the World War Two podcast We Have Ways Of Making You Talk call themselves ‘the afflicted’. We are people who are powerless to stop our interest in the war.

The We Have Ways podcast feeds this addiction. It also mentions books that we afflicted feel obliged to read. New books on the war are written and published every week, along with other podcasts and YouTube videos as well as high profile documentaries. The BBC recently released the final series of a documentary called The Rise of the Nazis (see pic above). Naturally, I’ve watched every episode. This final series has revealed a new dimension to the appeal of the war which resonates with my age and stage in life.

The Fighting-Age Male

Back when I was a fighting-aged male, I used to think how I would have fared in combat, jumping off landing craft onto Sword beach and running up the dune through a hail of horrifically large bullets spewed from an M42.

In all likelihood, that wouldn’t have been me. The odds are I would not have been a front-line soldier, who only represent a fraction of the overall war effort. They are tip of the spear, but the shaft is enormous. That’s where I’d have been; somewhere in the shaft. There’s no way someone like me would have been put in the infantry. Aside from my hopeless lack of physical stamina, my terrible eyesight alone would have barred me from close-contact military service. If someone knocked my glasses off on the battlefield, I would pose a greater threat to my own side than the enemy.

A Certain Age

Speculation about the kind of role I would have played in World War Two is now different for me, being 47. And here’s why the latest BBC series was fascinating, as we witnessed scene after scene of the older German men discussing strategy around big maps. Except, of course, there was no discussion. It was merely an exercise in listening to the Fuhrer ranting and insisting that victory was still possible, with enough determination and belief.

The generals had a stronger grasp of military reality. Many understood the war was unwinnable by the end of 1942. German forces were over-committed in North Africa, defending France and Norway, and fighting a desperate battle against the great Soviet bear that had been poked into action. The scale of the war in the East defies comprehension. Generals and administrators knew the war effort was already running out of supplies and men, despite Germany being turned into a slave state with thousands of forced labour camps.

But the madness went on and on. In the bunker and command centre, no-one spoke up. The generals were divided and terrified, having thrown in their lot with the Nazis. They were unable to see a way out.

The final series about of The Rise of the Nazis is especially distressing to watching, as it charts the downfall. The unwinnable war grinds on into 1945 with no prospect of unconditional surrender that would have prevented the unnecessary slaughter of hundreds of thousands of lives.

One is left asking the question: in that situation, would I have said anything? Would I have spoken up and said that defeat was certain and peace must be made? Would I have rallied generals together and seized control to end the insanity? It is easy to say that we would never have been in this position. These stale old men were power hungry cowards, complicit in a regime that ruled by terror. But one still wonders.

Of course, they had never planned to be in that position. How had they gotten there?

Closer to Home

The most uncomfortable story told in the series gives us a clue. Sophia Scholl was not a decorated general up to their neck in it. She was a young student shocked that her elders and contemporaries were able to look the other way whilst the state grew ever more powerful and atrocities were perpetuated in their midst. Part of the White Rose movement, Scholl risked her life by distributing leaflets containing calls to action like this:

“Why don’t you act? Why do you tolerate these rulers gradually robbing you, in public and in private, of one right after another, until one day nothing, absolutely nothing, remains but the machinery of the state, under the command of criminals and drunkards?”

Sophia wasn’t a soldier being tested at the front line, like her boyfriend. She did what anyone could have done, male or female, young or old. So there are no excuses here. Would we have risked everything, like Sophia, working with the resistance? The cause looked hopeless, but you do the right thing because it is the right thing to do. So why did Sophia take this stand?

What a Difference A Faith Makes

Sophia Scholl was a Christian. Naturally, the BBC left out this part since the corporation, like many historians (see last week), simply doesn’t take religion seriously. But The Rest is History podcast explains how her faith was her primary motivation, and a comfort to her and her parents as she was executed (guillotined, actually) along with her brother almost exactly eighty years ago, on 22^nd February 1943.

Sophia Scholl was only 21. She did not die wondering what she would do when the moment came. She did it. Would we?

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Funnies on the Front Line?

If you prefer your warfare more modern, have you seen Bluestone 42? It’s a sitcom I co-wrote about a bomb disposal team in Afghanistan. Seriously. It also features men and women who have to act when the moment comes. All 21 episodes are back on iPlayer! The language is pretty robust, but more on that another time.