A battle for reputation: the story of two Canadian military giants in fearsome personal combat.

A battle for reputation: the story of two Canadian military giants in fearsome personal combat. The Madman and the Butcher: The Sensational Wars of Sam Hughes andGeneral Arthur Currie Tim Cook Allen Lane Canada 472 pages, hardcover ISBN 9780670064038 IN CANADA AT THE START OF WORLD WAR ONE, there was almost nodiscussion of who should be given responsibility for the direction ofthe war effort. Sam Hughes, minister of militia and defence, rushed inand took charge. He banished Canada's only professional troops togarrison duty in Bermuda, scrapped the mobilization plan that had beencarefully developed by the permanent force and dispatched messages tomore than 200 militia commanders across the country (most of whom heknew personally) asking that they recruit troops on an urgent basis anddispatch them for training to Valcartier, Quebec--at that time virtuallyopen countryside, with no facilities to receive an influx of troops. One of the three brigadiers chosen by Hughes to take charge of thetroops at Valcartier was a militia colonel from Victoria, Arthur Currie.Hughes's son Garnet was Currie's second-in-command atVictoria. Currie was 38 years old, tall and strong but overweight andungainly. He had never previously commanded in excess of 400 troops--andindeed had commanded troops only for brief training periods. His careerhad been in real estate and insurance, where he had recently encounteredserious financial difficulties. Hughes was aware of the difficulties; itis not clear whether he was then aware that Currie dealt with them byembezzling some $10,000 from regimental funds. These and the myriad other decisions taken by Hughes quickly andindependently could have backfired, but cumulatively were remarkablysuccessful. More than 30,000 recruits soon appeared and, by anextraordinary feat of construction, facilities were ready at Valcartierto receive them. Currie proved to be a capable and forceful militaryleader. After an inauspicious start at the Somme and the second battleat Ypres, he established his reputation at Vimy Ridge in April 1917.Soon after, he was given command of the Canadian Corps and went on tolead the Corps in the stunning series of victories referred to as theHundred Days that preceded the November armistice. All this had enormouscost in lives: some 60,000 dead and 170,000 wounded, including 45,000killed and wounded during those 100 days. Much of Tim Cook's The Madman and the Butcher: The SensationalWars of Sam Hughes and General Arthur Currie is based on Cook'simmensely researched two-volume work on the history of the CanadianCorps during World War One, reviewed in the November 2009 issue of theLRC. In these former volumes, the Hughes-Currie relationship forms animportant but subsidiary part of a far wider story, while in thisretelling the relationship becomes the c entral focus. The book'stitle, which reflects the clash between Currie (the butcher) and Hughes(the madman), highlights shock effect over accuracy. The two men hadimportant similarities of outlook, including an ability to combineallegiance to the British Empire with a strong belief in Canadianidentity and a desire to have that identity clearly recognized andaccepted within the empire. Of the two, Currie had the less complexpersonality. He might have had a moderately successful business careerhad the war not occurred. He himself recognized that he was notbrilliant as a military man, but compensated for this perceivedshortcoming with a penchant for meticulous preparation. His talents didnot go unnoticed. Sam Hughes's wartime record was far less consistent. Cookmakes a serious effort to explain the contradictory elements ofHughes's larger-than-life personality. Although endowed withextraordinary energy, Hughes was regarded by many, even politicalallies, as ludicrously vain and unhinged. Such traits had been visibleas early as 1911, when he was the last Cabinet minister to be appointedto Robert Borden's government, but as the war wore on they becameever more noticeable. "On matters which touch his insane egotism heis quite unbalanced," Borden himself noted. "On all othermatters able and sometimes brilliant." Hughes's inspirational recruiting efforts comprised hisgreatest contribution to the war effort. But on virtually all otherfronts he was a disaster. He alienated many and had no concept ofdelegation. He supported the ill-fated Canadian-made Ross rifle evenafter it was clear that the troops hated it. He initiated a Canadianmunitions industry that grew extraordinarily during the war, butresponsibility for it had to be taken away from him because ofill-considered interference. He indulged constantly in patronage, whichalthough typical of the times was carried by him to egregious extremes.And he was not above nepotism. When the commander of a Cana dian Corpsdivision was killed in 1916, Hughes sent a cable to Corps headquarters:"Give Garnet [Hughes's son] 3rd Division--Sam." It wasactions such as this that turned Currie, among many others, against him. Both Currie and Hughes frequently played the Canadian card,demanding special consideration in light of Canada's status as theBritish Empire's senior dominion. But they played that card todifferent ends. Currie wished to maintain the Canadian Corps as acohesive and effective unit, lobbying to influence militaryappointments, but always insisting on merit. At one point he refused tohave the Corps put under a British general for whom he lacked respect,and did not quarrel with Field Marshal Haig's comment that thismight be regarded as mutiny. Above all, he pushed back against constantpressure from the British for rapid action and overly bold strategy,while resisting strategic initiatives that depended on in-depth assaultson entrenched enemy forces that risked moving infantry beyond theprotection of the artillery. Instead, he preferred what he called a"bite and hold" strategy. The British frequently resented hisuse of the Canadian card, but respected him for it. Passchendaeleillustrated the nature of his influence. His opposition to the strategywas unsuccessful, but his influence over the tactics was probably themajor factor in the victory, although at appalling cost in lives. Hughes employed the Canadian card to interfere with militaryappointments in London and in the field. The War Office in London didnot resist these initiatives as much as it should have: Cook reportsthat the British were bullied by Hughes and mystified by the politicaldynamics in Canada. By November 1916 Borden's patience with Hugheshad run out. Hughes was dismissed from Cabinet, although he remained inParliament. The demotion caused Hughes's paranoia, which had alwayslurked not very far beneath the surface, to come to the fore. Helaunched attacks in all directions, but par ticularly, and increasingly,at Currie. In Hughes's retelling of the Hundred Days campaign, Currie haddeliberately sacrificed the lives of his own men. On March 4, 1919,sheltered from action for defamation, Hughes stood in the House ofCommons and delivered a vicious diatribe against Currie. He focused onthe taking of the small village of Mons on the very last day of the war,characterizing it as a waste of troops, for which Currie should be"tried summarily by court martial and punished so far as the lawwould allow." During all of this, Currie remained remarkablysilent. Defences against Hughes's accusations were mounted by someof his former subordinates, but Borden's ministers did not defendhim. Cook explains why Hughes's criticisms fell on some receptiveears. Currie's relationships with his fellow officers had alwaysbeen close, but he had never succeeded in establishing a rapport withthe rank and file. For many veterans, Currie's seeming aloofnesswas a sign of class-based sn obbery, as well as showing a lack of concernfor the lives of ordinary soldiers. While other countries made much oftheir military commanders in the war's aftermath, with votes ofthanks and monetary recognition, Currie received neither. But despitethe lack of official accolades, he was soon made principal of McGillUniversity. Exhibiting the same penchant for organization he had shownduring wartime, he was a success, particularly in fundraising and inestablishing good relationships with faculty and students. Sam Hughes died in 1921, railing against Currie almost to the end.With his voice extinguished it seemed as though the attacks onCurrie's reputation might be over. However, six years later a smallnewspaper in Ontario's Port Hope, with a circulation of hardlyabove 1,000, published an editorial written by a "politicalmuckraker" (Cook's apt description) and self-styled populistadvocate named William Preston. This piece repeated many ofHughes's allegations against Currie, in pa rticular the waste oflife he was alleged to have caused on the war's last day in Mons. Ignoring the advice of many of his own supporters, Currie sued.This was a major decision. In a defamation action such as this, thedefendants had to establish the truth of their allegations. They failed,but only after a highly publicized trial that ended with the juryawarding Currie just $500 in damages--far less than the $50,000 he hadclaimed. An extraordinary assemblage of senior military officers went toCobourg for the trial, and Currie successfully withstood witheringcross-examinations. In spite of that, it was a traumatic experience andprovides a textbook example of why responsible lawyers generally advisetheir clients against suits for defamation. The Madman and the Butchercontains a riveting account of this trial, with a perspective that isbroadly sympathetic to Currie's case. In this, Cook's differsslightly from the much more detailed version of the trial found in 7heLast Day, the Last Hour: The Currie Libel Trial, Robert J. Sharpe'srecently republished 1988 book, which provides an excellent and balancedaccount with both sides of the case. Cook argues from available evidence that Currie's trialopponents were well aware of his embezzlement at the war's start,and were intent on hinting to Currie and his legal team exactly whatthey knew. He had long before repaid the amount involved by borrowingfrom two of his junior officers, but that did not excuse the fact of theembezzlement. Luckily for Currie, the details of this potential scandalwere not made public. But Currie was constantly concerned that theincident would come out in response to the questions pursued,particularly by Preston. That it did not may have been due to somefortunate rulings by the trial judge. Our courts are currently evolving an expansion of the availabledefences in a defamation trial so as to give greater latitude toresponsible journalists. This is probably a worthwhile objective, b ut Ihope what emerges will not accommodate irresponsible muckrakers such asPreston. With the Currie libel trial serving as its climax, The Madman andthe Butcher relates the story of how the World War One experienceestablished Canadians' self-image as an independent nation. ButCook's tale also exemplifies how personal ambitions and rivalriescan take precedence over national interests, even in time of crisis. Thebook would have benefited from diagrams, maps and an index--all of whichenhance Cook's excellent two-volume Canadian Corps history. Butthis is a minor cavil. Overall, Tim Cook has made yet anothersubstantial contribution to Canadian military literature. One canconfidently hope that we will see many further volumes of this qualityfrom him. James C. Baillie is a business lawyer, a director of Canada'sNational History Society and a member of the Senate of the 48thHighlanders of Canada.