The WDLR companion and older brother was French

Our friend and colleague Roy Link has produced a book, WDLR Companion, to mark the end of the First World War. It acts as a supplement to the WDLR Album published in 2014. The first album was based around a photographic journey round the British Front in early 1918, the topic being the War Department Light Railways used by the British and Colonial Army.

The fkavour of War Department railways: a 16mm model of a Wrightscale WD Baldwin 4-6-0 pulls two WD covered goods wagons, built by Jim Hawkesworth on Wrightscale bogies

Drawing on his own graphic resources, the archive of Colonel David W. Ronald and the skills of Peter Foley, RCL Publications has given us, as of winter 2018, The WDLR Companion This companion book includes photos from the archives of the Imperial War Museum, the Scottish National Library, the Library of Congress and others. It also boasts a series of drawings by the talented Peter Foley.

Here, as an author in the same field, I confess a bit of envy. When I approached the Imperial War Museum their rates for reproduction were very pricey. For my own book, Tracks To The Trenches, I calculated that I could have spent at least £10,000 for the rights to reproduce the required illustrations. A self-respecting history of this kind would need at least double that number of illustrations thus an up-front investment of anything up to £20,000 before thinking of paying a printer or distribution costs. These high charges might explain why there was never a reprint of the excellent Light Railways of the First World War by WJK Davies.

At this point, once again, thanks to those who shared with me their archives and charged far more modestly. Without them, the book ‘Colonel Péchot: Tracks To The Trenches’ would not have been possible and the English language story of  Colonel Péchot and the birth of French, German and British military narrow gauge would not have been told.

Prosper Péchot 1907 with Légion d'Honneur. Photo courtesy Raymond Péchot

In a few words, Colonel Péchot: Tracks To The Trenches explains how Prosper Péchot made trench transport possible. Without his ideas, portable narrow gauge railways would have remained light devices, suitable for agriculture or quarries.   

It could be argued that the basic ideas already existed. The point is – they were in existence but never used together. It took the genius of Péchot to put together ideas from various sources. The 2’ gauge Festiniog railway, the portable railways of the Decauville Company, Fowler agricultural machines, the Darjeeling-Himalaya railway and the timber extraction railways of the USA were already in operation, but totally independently.

Péchot was the first to create a prefabricated 60cm gauge railway system which could be quickly set out in the field and then reliably transport a vast tonnage of freight. From Decauville he took the concept of portable-prefabricated rail and at the Decauville factory he devised valuable improvements. The Festiniog Railway showed that vast tonnages could be transported by narrow gauge. The Fowler company, among others, demonstrated tough little steam engines which could work in the field.

Péchot added his own ideas. Using his mathematical skills garnered as a graduate of the top Ecole Polytechnique and his experience as an Artillery officer, he calculated the merits of 60cm gauge. He needed a sweet spot. The broader the gauge, the smoother and more reliable running became; the narrower, the more expeditiously the railway could be laid. 60cm provided the best compromise. Between 1882 and 1888, he put his life and career on hold trying to persuade the French Army to lay in a stock of portable railways. He met with partial success in 1888 and more than 500 km (300 miles) of artillerie 88/ Péchot system railways were installed around the frontier fortresses of France.

Péchot-Bourdon locomotive on the military narrow gauge network serving the Belfort frontier defences. Picture courtesy Raymond Duton

Before Péchot, the Prussian army had been experimenting with 70 and 75cm gauge. Very soon after reports of French experiments appeared in French newspapers, the Prussians and soon the whole German Army went over to their version of 60cm gauge, known as Heeresfelbahn. Paul Decauville, mentioned above, recalled a letter from the German ambassador expressing great interest in the new portable railways. Ironically, they grasped Péchot’s ideas better than the French generals. By 1914, they had a thousand kilometres of track in readiness for attack.

The British, until they saw French field railways, had been using 2’6” (75cm.) Although they - and the USA - used Imperial measurements as a rule, they, too in their own good time, adopted the French metric standard of 60cm.

16mm Wrightscale model of a Péchot bogie wagon

The same applies to the rolling stock. Until then, whether Decauville or Welsh, narrow gauge wagons were sturdy little four-wheelers. Péchot insisted on bogie wagons. The body could be longer and thus have superior capacity. The bogies enabled them to take narrow gauge, roughly laid track far better. Braking for every wagon came as standard. They could even be operated by brake-wheel – or by a key at track level.

The Péchot system of compensated springing was a world leader. Unfortunately, between 1888 and 1914, the French army lost its early technological lead. In 1914, what material that was left was ageing; Péchot bogie wagons were still going strong but there were very few of them.

In 1914, the Péchot system acquired a powerful advocate. As the German Army thrust westwards, General Gallieni was charged with the defence of Paris. The capital of France was ringed by fortifications, but there was no way to roll supplies up from the railway stations. He realised the potential of a light railway system that could rapidly deliver  military supplies. Though retired, Péchot returned to make a contribution to the defence of Paris and, once more, the value of artillerie 88 was demonstrated.

General Gallieni, remembered as the hero of 1914 as his efforts stopped the German advance. Photo copyright MD Wright

Paris was soon out of danger to be replaced by the realities of trench warfare. New rail, rolling stock and locomotives were needed, in great volume. The Decauville company produced a relatively light design which could be rolled out by the thousand, the 'Decauville 15'. 

For all its merits, the WDLR Companion provides a blinkered view. The enormous contribution that French design made to the British War Department Light Railways is only mentioned briefly in the text. A railway stores depot in Andruiq (page 9) included projects such as ‘manufacture of standard gauge, metre gauge and 60 cm’ in 1915. In early 1916, the British took over a French sector (also page 9). ‘The takeover included a 60cm French military railway.’  The book admits that orders for 60cm gauge material flowed home from February 1916 onwards. (pp 9-10)

So far, the push towards 60cm field railways came from relatively junior officers.

General Haig, fairly recently appointed British CinC, was open to suggestions; the Battle of the Somme was not going well. Photo copyright MD Wright

It was not until the battle of the Somme was under way that ‘Top Brass’ got involved. On September 11^th (WDLR Companion pp 13-14) Haig recorded a meeting which included L-G (Lloyd George), M. Robert (the French Minister for Muitions) and Sir Eric Geddes. ‘The necessity for 60 centimetre railways was quickly shown’

Here, hey, a revolution in British thinking has happened!

The compilers of WDLR Companion are well aware of the French influence. They had access to the Imperial War Museum Archive where there are various photos of French field railways, for example Q 4111 (Decauville wagons on the ex French system)

In 1916, Sir Eric Geddes was apointed Director of Light Railways and was in at the formation of the WDLR. Photo copyright MD Wright

I feel particularly disappointed. Roy Link and the Wrights have been friends for many years. He knows about the huge contributions that Péchot made to military narrow gauge railways.

In the drawings section of WDLR Companion, there are two or three plans featuring Decauville-15 bogies and a Péchot bogie. For these drawings, we can thank Peter Foley.  He has clearly examined surviving examples, checking to see where they have been modified during their long service life.

They are attractive drawings, and we hope that they will inspire interest in French military narrow gauge. The reader can see from pp 166-7 the differences between the heavily engineered Péchot bogies and the relatively light Decauville 15 equivalent. We should like to comment on an outstanding feature. This was one of the innovations that made the Péchot design revolutionary.

A Péchot bogie which retains some original features. Photo courtesy Jacques Pradayrol

The chequer plate shown (page 166) without comment on the top surface of the Péchot bogie was one of the world-leading introductions produced by the Péchot team. Remember – the original designs date from the 1880s.The original drawings housed at Chatellereult and a bogie in its original state indicate this early use of non-slip surfacing. As can be seen from the drawings of WD wagons and the Decauville ones, their top surfaces did not have this thoughtful safety material.

In this enlargement of the photo shown above, you can just see the non-slip surfacing.

 The simplest way to produce a non-slip surface was to use cast iron. Unfortunately, this was too brittle for use in the field where heavy weights might be dropped with, literally, shattering results. The material must have been steel. Before theappearence of the huge rolling mills of the 20^th century, production of steel was usually in sheet form. But these sheets must have been pressed in relatively small portions.

It may be a little pernickety, but we’d like to suggest that the simple diamond pattern shown in the drawing is slightly misleading. Because of the technology, the diamond pattern would have been heavily ridged. This could have been indicated on the drawing if traced in double lines. It would have been a simple matter for Peter Foley to haveindicated the way that they would have appeared in the 19^th century.

 This is a small quibble. We just wish that, In all, given Mr Foley’s work, it would have been simple for the text to have pointed out more of the history of the War Department Light Railways.

An end to war

In various ways, the craft of 16mm can put an end to war. As you sit at your workbench fettling up a kit or preparing a locomotive, you are part of a long tradition. For centuries, the skill of the hand and eye have been used, firstly to bring people together, then to convey messages to a wider public. Ritual whether martial or religious, crowds attending sport, modern folk at their 16mm scale meetings, all know the value of craft.

Our craft has two aspects. One is private love and knowledge, the other is social.

The craft of the ‘16 miller’ is not to frighten. It is inclusive, kind, open-hearted and peaceful. At its best, it can be gentle, active.  

A 16mm scale Kerr Stuart 0-4-0 gently makes its way around our garden railway. Photo MD Wright

There are parallels with other crafts and indeed with activities which may be considered more cerebral.

Needlework is one example. It is a gentle art but yet can also be active. It can even provide a response to injustice or atrocity. The word Craftivism was coined in 2003 but the idea that needle-craft can be a tool towards positive change – is much older. We can take just two 20^th century example. Chileans made arpilleras (hand-stitched embroideries) to protest about dictatorship. Woman Suffragists made beautiful banners to advertise the cause of Votes For Women.

You will not be surprised that needlework could be used as an advocate for peace.  Many examples have been lost over the last hundred years but a particular sampler preserved by The Embroider’s Guild collection pleads, celebrates and advocates for peace. Though striking, it is not meant to be beautiful. It is good to look at, but was not primarily made to beautiful. It acts as an encouragement to others to make an effort.

The creator was Margaret Foster. She took her designs from two established genres. Before the arrival of woven name-tapes, the typical sampler was worked by a trainee to practise or showcase the art of embroidered lettering. Marks of ownership were essential when even a handkerchief was valuable and when laundry took months. As a showcase, or to make the labour less dull, the sampler consisted of improving verses, artfully framed. In these days, the sampler, with its embroidered verse, is a collector’s item.

Copyright and exclusive! Embroidered local costume. Postcard courtesy MJ Jackson

The other genre was the local embroidery style. In some parts of Europe, each region or even village still have their local style of embroidery. I was proudly shown a sample book of Norwegian patterns, showing patterns each typical of a particular town or district. Every child will receive a costume bedecked with these patterns. They will sit down and be taught, in their turn, how to create them. This must have been true all over Europe at one time. The boy illustrated is wearing Tyrolean Sunday best.

In the early 20^th century, the ‘local style’ had almost died out in England, though some patterns are preserved in old pieces. Margaret Foster wanted to keep alive the Wessex style, best described as multi-coloured black-work interspersed with bands of smocking. A preserved piece includes a strip in the Strawberry Flower pattern, typical of Wessex style.

The Strawberry Pattern consisted of a strip of embroidered flowers embroidered in black on a self-coloured background. This picture is adapted from a design by Moyra MacNeill

In summer 1918 she created a sampler. It has both lettering and bands of pattern. It thus incorporates the two strands (to coin a phrase) of sampler embroidery – tradition and utility.

She wanted to be accessible and so her art is not intimidating. She used a piece of cream even-weave fabric, very roughly edged. The background shows through the stitching in an unpretentious way. It is mainly black thread on cream with colour and distributed in small random patches. The lettering records a few unpretentious lines of doggerel. In the original, the poem was jumbled on to seven lines of text. Below them are the maker’s initials and the date – May 1918.

A little sampler for the month of May

work’d while skies were warm and flow’rs were gay

And all good British people humbly pray’d

that Peace with Victory be not long delay’d

The overall effect is of heartbreaking simplicity. It well deserves its place in the archives.

This needlework is mentioned because of its relationship with our 16mm model layout. Both are conscious of the history and issues of the real world.

Malcolm Wright's 16mm garden railway features a bridge in the U.S. style. A war surplus WD Baldwin 4-6-0 pushes a couple of WD wagons, all Wrightscale. Photo MD Wright

Like most layouts, the Wrightscale South Deeside Line starts with a story. Our garden railway is set firmly in the period between First and Second World War when the First World War is still known as the Great War. All of its staff are personally acquainted with events in that war and the roster is full of war surplus stock.

In the fictional history, the railway started some years previously, serving a slate quarry in Scotland. Yes! we did have our own Scotch slate. It was, if you like, a second Ballachulish which came into its own around 1930. Some American loggers remained after the Great War was over. They built the bridge which links the original line with the extension. The railway also serves local people, for travel, post and groceries.

Consistent with this story, most models are accurate War surplus plus hardy pre-War survivors such as the Wren. The management bid successfully for a War Surplus War Department Baldwin 4-6-0 but were outbid for a German 0-6-0. The majority of trains carry freight. Wagons include small slate wagons designed or built in Wales or War Surplus War Department stock.

For complicated reasons, some of the only French Péchot bogie wagons to leave France ended up on South Deeside. But that is another story. To tell it now would be an overly long digression.

The artillerie-88 bogie wagon, designed by Prosper Péchot of the French Army, was the fore-runner of War Department bogie wagons. Wrightscale 16mm model.

Like any craft, there is a focus on improving skills. The sampler is a good place to start when learning needlework. A model, or series of models, is a good introduction to a mastery of metal-crafts.

Samplers should be done to the best of the crafter’s ability. A 16mm scale live steam model locomotive demands the best from the modeller. Each piece demands the correct materials. Working it and ensuring a good fit with other components requires a series of skills; putting it together yet more.

At each stage and certainly at the end, trouble-shooting is needed. This is quite a skill of its own. The ability to go back through the work looking for the flaw - where things started to go wrong - has to be learned. It requires character. The first experience of trouble-shooting is hard, but working at it helps. A new mindset will be acquired, the ability to see mistakes and regard them not just as time wasted, but as an opportunity to learn. Dismissing a mistake out-of-hand brings on a peculiar and damaging psychological blindness. Working at it clear-eyed dispels the blindness. It is that unique something that folk who work with their hands can offer the world – whether they be needleworkers or metal workers.

Baldwin Gas Mechanical as used in World War 1. Photo courtesy Jacques Pradayrol

There is the vital social aspect. Taking part in a select list of activities can make us better people. Model-making and sampler design require what is known to professors of social science as scenario planning. Authorities such as Professors, Mellers, Tetlock and Arkes studied forecasting, a fairly cerebral process, but their findings apply to planning a craft project.  They distinguish forecasts which are pure bluff, attention seeking or cheerleading from  better ones. These are efforts made in good faith to get the answer correct. (I am borrowing words from Tim Harford.) 

Serious forecasters, like modellers or needle-workes, will soon be confronted by the gaps in their knowledge. They have to come to terms with the illusion of explanatory depth. We think we know how something works … until we try getting it to work. How many times has a parent been caught out by a curious child or an onlooker who seems to be asking naïve questions? The experience can prompt humility and moderation.

Turning a prototype BGM into a working model requires many skills, including feedback from friends and customers. 16mm Wrightscale model. Photo MD Wright

Get-togethers, whether cerebral or crafty can bring out the best in us. They can make difference a cause of celebration rather than conflict. This is not a new discovery. There are schools and colleges for workers by hand and brain, the name being used in the chummy original sense. ‘School’ comes from Latin schola – leisure employment, ‘college’ from Latin collegium - association or partnership.

Academics appreciate face-to-face time, whether in the flesh or by Skype. The same applies to model-making. The people who model most productively are club members. In an unclubbable age, active membership of clubs is still high. Time is given freely. Information is offered on a not-for-profit basis. The assumption is that members bring an open mind and treat others as they have been treated. Even before the 16mm association was formed, area associations began, where it was possible to meet in the flesh and run trains together.

Collaborative sewing has the longest history of all.  Needlework these days still has a strong social aspect. Every craft shop has its local directory of craft-clubs and sewing bees.

A restored ex-WD Baldwin 4-6-0 has honed many skills but the impression you get from this photograph is of fun! Photo courtesy Jim Hawkesworth

There is another quality shared by the crafts and more cerebral arts such as fore-casting. A good example is possible to recognise but less easy to explain. There are many examples of sloppy work. At the other extreme, arguments, models or sewing projects can be so pleased with themselves that they have no appeal to anyone else.

Model of ex War Department Baldwin 4-6-0 exudes tranquility. Wrightscale 16mm model pulls wagons built on Wrightscale WD bogies

To have merit does not require a crushing level of skill or knowledge. In the realm of predictions, a ‘superforecaster’ does not have to be an expert in some subject, but does have to be open-minded and respectful of contrary evidence or opinions. A sampler has to please. Something made by a child might nestle in the heart in the way that overwhelming skill in needlework fails to do. A model has to have ‘it’ too. Perhaps it can be described as genuine ‘play-value’  

Last 100 days on the Western Front

What took them so long?

We know that, privately at least, by the end of September, von Hindenburg and von Ludendorf knew that War was lost. On September 28^th, these senior Marshals of the German Army informed the Kaiser. His comment was ‘Why didn’t you tell me a fortnight ago? Saved us all a lot of trouble.’

Yet over the next five weeks, the First World War continued. There were over a quarter of a million casualties, arguably more. In a more peaceful environment, the influenza epidemic might have been better managed and less deadly. These were not just forces of history which caused the delay. Decisions taken by men (mostly men) delayed the Armistice.

Bulgaria collapsed relatively quickly. The breakthrough battle happened on 15^th September, peace negotiations by the end of the month. A fuller description is in my previous blog. The agony on the Western Front took much longer.

View of the station at Lens, liberated early October 1918. The damage is not so much due to shell fire as to deliberate wrecking, designed to deny any facilities to the Allies. From 'Illustration' magazine. Courtesy MD Wright

We can home in on the highly symbolic Somme Front. What happened there reflected events over the whole of the western Front. The French and AEF were also advancing but our looking glass will be trained so to speak on the Upper Somme. In 1916, during the Battle of the Somme, the British expended much blood and treasure on he objective of Péronne – which they never took. (See earlier blog.) In March and early April 1918, the Germans took all but 60 kilometres – the distance between Péronne and the eastern suburbs of Amiens. They were halted at Villers Bretonneux a few kilometres from the strategic city. (See recent blog).

In July 1918, the Allies moved on to the front foot. On August 8th, they took 10 kilometres (6 ½ miles) of territory in the Péronne direction. Villers Bretonneux and  Amiens were out of danger. Between the 9^th and 29^th August, they advanced a further 15 kilometres to another Villers, this time Villers Carbonnel. There they paused.

Their way to Péronne was barred by the Somme and Canal de Somme. Before them lay the formidable Hindenburg Line which stretched from Péronne north-west to Lens in the department of Pas de Calais. After hard fighting, they were 5 kilometres east by September 6^th. A British, Canadian and ANZAC force reached the gates of the town of St Quentin by September 18^th, but not much beyond until October 9^th.

The truism has been that the Germans traded territory for lives, but in actual fact, they had planned the retreat as a series of strong points. Places in between were given up under relatively little pressure, but centres of resistance were not given up without a desperate fight. These cost many lives, their own as well as those of the Allies.

Map showing Allied advances August to November 1918 on the Western Front east of Amiens. Villers Bretonneux is in the white zone ie never under enemy control. On 29th August, Allies arewithin a shout of Peronne, but don't pass until 6th September. THey slow up at St Quentin and again just beyond. Right central, a bit blurred, in the band of pink liberated on 7th November is La Capelle mentioned below. Illustration courtesy MD Wright

There were reasons why the Allies were able to press home their attack. In spite of news censorship, the Germans had their suspicions about the course of the War. Rumour has a thousand tongues. During the advances in the spring, they saw captured Allied supplies. The contrast between the coarse plenty that the enemy enjoyed and their own shortages was painful. In addition, the Germans were exhausted. They had been reinforced the previous winter, but not since.

On the Allied side, the presence of the million-strong AEF on their right flank was heartening. Most importantly, what enabled them to press forward was a better educated leadership. Old-fashioned ideas of sending men armed with bayonets to face barbed wire and machine guns had finally been replaced. Military intelligence was being used better. Instead of a random bombardment, an advance was being protected by a creeping barrage of artillery. The gunfire crept forward just ahead of the infantry.

Guns were bigger, there were more of them and they were better used.

155mm American Expeditionary Force guns in the field, autumn 1918. This is just one gun battery in support of their infantry but it required a serious supply chain for the huge shells. The AEF had a large field railway service. Photo courtesy MD Wright

The Army had learned to use trench railways to bring ammunition into the field. Military shells were now enormous but the guns never went short. Finally the French and British had learned the lessons that Prosper Péchot had tried to teach. (See previous blogs)

A battered French bogie wagon (Pechot system) with water tanker beyond.Wagons such as these ensured that humans and guns were kept fed. Photo MD Wright

Those contesting St Quentin, inch by painful inch, might have been interested in what was happening at German HQ.

On September 28^th, after they heard the plans for a Bulgarian armistice, Ludendorf and Hindenburg agreed that a general armistice should be sought. They did not approach the Kaiser until the next day. Wilhelm II did as he was told – as he had done for quite a while. He is supposed to have made this comment about his relationship with the two Marshals. ‘From time to time I hear this and that has been done, according to the wishes of those gentlemen’

A disappointing peace was now inevitable. Neither the Marshals nor the Kaiser liked the German Reichstag (Parliament), so their priority was not to stop the bloodshed. They started manoeuvres to ensure that Parliament and a new administration were blamed. Thus it was not until 4^th October that Prince Max of Baden appealed to President Wilson of the USA for an armistice. Wilson did not reply until 14^th October. He reminded the Central Powers that the USA entered the War for ‘the destruction of every arbitrary power anywhere.’

The High Command started an argument which basically continued until November 1^st. This turned out to be rearranging the proverbial deckchairs on the proverbial sinking ship. Was it necessary for the Kaiser to abdicate and if so, in favour of whom?

The generals argue. Photo from' Illustration' Courtesy MD Wright

In the meantime, the bloodshed continued. Between 8^th and 10^th October, the BAC (British, Australian and Canadian) forces sped 15 kilometres east of St Quentin, as far as the valley of the Oise. There the Germans mounted a stiff defence and held them off until October 26^th.

In the meantime, politics seemed to have stalled. The USA may have kept the other Allies informed, but the Germans were still unwilling to approach the French or British. 

In Germany, word of the parley with President Wilson soon got out.  As Edmund Taylor put it, ‘Wilhelm’s abdication was soon the subject of conversations and arguments everywhere, in government offices, drawing rooms, political meetings and streetcars; everywhere but in the press where every mention of it was censored.’ Clearly, no one told the PBI (poor b***** infantry) who continued to slog it out in eastern France.

On 27^th October, the BCA force were east of the Oise river.

On October 28^th, mutiny started in the German Navy. The Fleet had been ordered into the North Sea. The aim had been to help evacuate German soldiers who risked being stranded on Belgian beaches by the rapid Allied advance. Unfortunately for the High Command, the sailors put an unfavourable interpretation on the orders. Rumours abounded; the fleet stayed in port. An example was made of the ring-leaders but this just turned them into martyrs.

On November 1^st, mutiny was all around the ships. By November 4^th, the Red Flag (Russian!) was flying from most of the warships and thousands of sailors were parading the streets of Kiel singing the Marseillaise (French!)

Kurt Eisner

On land, the BCA were making fast progress. From November 5^th to the day of the Armistice, the average distance covered, per day, was 15 kilometres. The Germans came as close as they ever did to trading territory for lives. They still, however, took the time to destroy communications and material as they retreated.

On November 5^th, President Wilson made it clear that Marshal Foch of France had his full approval to represent the Allies in negotiations with Germany.

On November 7^th, Bavaria declared itself a Republic. Its new President was a journalist called Kurt Eisner; his sympathies were firmly socialist. This was really serious! The aim of this new republic was to be free – free of the Wittelsbach dynasty which had ruled them for 700 years but also free of the rest of Germany. German unity was at stake. This seems to have concentrated minds.

At nine that evening, three German staff cars approached Haudroy in Aisne. There is a monument to the Armistice in nearby La Capelle. Each car prominently displayed a white flag. Talks could begin. Within 24 hours, the German government had sent an Armistice Commission to the Forest of Compiègne to meet Marshal Foch and his delegation.

As imagined by Georges Scott, the moment when German cars approached the French near La Capelle on November 7th. 'Illustration' magazine. Courtesy MD Wright

Between 8^th November, when the Armistice was agreed, and the end of the war on 11^th November, thousands more lives were sacrificed. Soldiers continued to die, homes and communications were blown up, people starved, the Spanish flu rampaged through Europe. The story is depressing.

We should not be too angry, looking for someone to blame for all the suffering. What happened a century ago belongs to the past. We may feel some ignoble satisfaction when we find someone to blame, but it doesn’t do much good. Winston Churchill said the following about another disaster. ‘If we open a quarrel between the past and the present, we have lost the future.’ This sounds very noble and oratorical but the attitude has important practical results.

After World War One, there were lots of recriminations on the Allied side, firstly against Germany and then against our own generals. On the German side, among the military at least, there was a more useful spirit. Mistakes were made, certainly, during the last 100 days of the War.  But von Rundstedt, (1875-1953) then a Staff Officer, remarked that many of the successful campaigns of the Second World War were informed by the failures of the First.

In the period between the Wars, British, Australian and Canadian generals were all blamed for not taking better care of theirsoldiers. As they were left ‘out of the loop’ some of this is unfair. General Monash, commander of Australian troops deserves to have a University named after him.

German Brigadelok of he design used in World War 1, sold at the WW1 and lovingly restored. Photographed at Apedale by MD Wright

As for the portable railways designed by Prosper Péchot, they disappeared back into French Army bases. The German equivalents, the rail, wagons and locomotives, were sold off as War Surplus to the victors.

A 16mm Péchot bogie wagon kit

Firstly, we apologise to our loyal customers. The 16mm Baldwin Gas Mechanical model has been delayed for unforeseen personal and technical reasons. We should have some available in the New Year. Apologies again.In the meantime here is a product which is available.

A Péchot bogie wagon kit is your invitation to join the 16mm club

16mm Wrightscale Péchot wagon kit made up. Courtesy MD Wright

You have bought a Wrightscale 16mm Péchot bogie wagon kit and are planning to convert it into a model. The humble original had an important place in the stoy of warfare. This means that you are making history and so you are part of something important. Once you have started creating this wagon, you have joined, if not a party, a movement. Craft is slow, gentle and thought-provoking. It allows you to focus on important issues. Best of all, it reminds you that there are other people out there who are having the same experiences.

Here are some thoughts about our experiences. When designing the kits, Malcolm immersed himself in the history. Where did the distinctive shape come from? Why does a simple push-me-pull-you shape actually contain so many asymmetries? It was part of a series. Why was this called the Péchot system? Why was it also called ‘artillerie 88’? Finally, does the Péchot wagon really matter?

Prosper Péchot (1849-1928) first wrote down his idea for a bogie ‘truck’ in 1882. He had clearly been thinking about it for a while beforehand. His Memorandum to the Ministry of 1882 was clearly very carefully thought out, with appendices and references to supporting work. This included experiments at the Decauville factory.

 This memorandum was his final thesis after his two years of study at Staff College 1880 to 82. It was generally accepted, even by his detractors, that it was a good, thorough piece of work. It was not welcomed at the Ministry, nor by the Génie – French equivalent of the Royal Engineers - because his ideas would cost a lot of money.

Prosper Péchot at retireent age. He has a Légion d'Honneur pinned to his chest. Photo courtesy Raymond Péchot

In the Memorandum, Péchot explained his theory snappily known as ‘the doctrine of multiplication of axles.’ As we know, the more points which support a load, the less each point has to carry. This is why 40-tonne lorries have all those extra axles – basically to save our roads. Unfortunately, all these extra wheels generate extra friction and so the lorries jack them up out of the way whenever the inspectors aren’t looking – and continue to make pot-holes. For a 19^th century French person looking for a way to carry heavy loads on earth or country roads, the friction was less of a problem. More axles were good.

The other part of the problem was how to ‘iron-clad’ bare earth or simple country paths. Prosper Péchot thought that one out too. In 1874-5, Paul Decauville of the Decauville Company started making his fortune with portable track and small carts to run along it. A cart running on light track laid on nothing more promising than muddy soil could carry 200 kilos. When they ran on rail, there was no problem transporting a load where it otherwise it was impossible to push a wheelbarrow. Péchot explored the Decauville ideas. He devised portable track which could support a mass of 3.5 tonnes per axle yes! fifteen times the tare of a Decauville buggy. In theory, just use more axles to carry ever greater mass. Four axles could support a theoretical mass of up to 14 tonnes. In practice, in order to support a 10-tonne wagon on light portable track, a bogie wagon was necessary.

This is a narrow bogie wagon built by Kerr, Stuart Ltd in the early 1890s. The design is symmetrical. Over in France, 10 years previously,  Péchot had shown that one side should not mirror the other. Illustration copyright MD Wright

Another innovation was needed. This was the way to link all these wonderful little axles together.  The bogie or ‘truck’ was already used on standard gauge. In places such as the USA and Festiniog Railway bogies were indeed already used on narrow gauge but they were fairly novel in France. Manufacturers such as Decauville were selling trains of small four-wheelers for use on their light agricultural and industrial railways. Péchot had to innovate here.

A sceptical Army expected to be convinced with the new portable track and bogie wagons but without having to pay for them. Paul Decauville helped out … for a while but by 1884, his patience wore thin. He was spending good money on innovation but receiving no orders in return. From late 1885, the Navy got interested. Then in 1886, the Press got on to the Army’s case. They believed that national security was being compromised. The French nation had paid out billions in today’s money building a string of forts to keep out any invaders. A new introduction, melinite, a precursor of TNT, made these forts obsolete. A dramatic artillery demonstration reduced a fort to rubble in an afternoon.

A typical late 19th century French fort was a hectare in extent, earth-sheltered and needed a garrison of around 600. A chain of them guarded the frontier. Photograph MD Wright

Something had to be done! What if you could move your guns out of the forts? Concealed in the woods and hills nearby, they could blast the enemy so vigorously that the fort itself never came within range. The Army turned back with relief to the ideas of Péchot. Trials in autumn-spring 1887-8 showed that a 60cm railway could rapidly be laid - taking guns out of a fort and up to a vantage for artillery, all in the space of a morning. The job could be done in time for lunch.  The nearest rival to 60cm, metre gauge, could not do this. The Ministry and the Press were convinced. The Army were obliged to follow their political masters.

In summer 1888, 60cm gauge was officially adopted and the 60 cm gauge wagon rolled out. Its official name was artillerie 88 because it was used by the French Artillery service and to mark the date of adoption.

This is the story of the Péchot plate-forme wagon and to us it is important. The more stories we share, the wider our common platform (so to speak). We should also like to argue that a Wrightscale kit offers you the precious gift of difficulty. In a fast-moving world, we need a little touch of slow.  Slick movementtends to drive us apart. Slow movement brings us together.

From instructions for Wrightscale 16mm scale Péchot 5 tonne bogie kit. Parts B and C may look the same but aren't, nor are E and G. Only one end gets N and make sure that Q is the right way up! Drawing courtesy MD Wright

The main difficulty for the model-maker is the lack of symmetry in what, at first glance, seems to be a regular and symmetrical object. You might think the bogie top would be a sort of box-lid. Beware! The bogie ends are not the same! The hangers used for fixing the axles are handed. The couplers are different. Even the safety chains are different and who could have thought that you could two sides to the same length of chain.

There were good reasons for these quirks and difficulties. As you work with them to create your model, you are joining the community of quirk and detail.

We can look more closely at what Péchot was trying to achieve. To create his platform wagon, he had made use of various technical fixes. Many were of his own devising; a number of patents were lodged in his name. The portable track might be laid on fairly rough ground. It often went round tight curves and tackled vertiginous slopes.  The standard 5 tonne bogie was at the heart of the system. It had to be able to carry 5 tonnes, balanced on a toy-like railway, often round the bend and up the wall, all without derailing. Strength had to be found in light-weight materials resulting from up-to-the minute technologies. 10mm steel plate was used, rolled and formed where necessary, steel castings where necessary. Many examples of this robust design have lasted to this day – over 120 years.

Battered, repurposed but serviceable, this Péchot wagon was over 100 years old when photographed. Courtesy MD Wright

At the bogie centre was a complex central casting that accepted the kingpin. This linked the bogie to the carrier above; sometimes a bolster, but more usually a ten tonne wagon body. The casting was held between steel plates and braced to the curved ends of the bogie by steel angle. The ends of these braces were fettled to steel angle that supported the bogie ends.

Another innovation was the draw-gear. Usually, a lightly made narrow gauge wagon would have draw-gear tacked to its end-plate. Péchot draw-gear was pivoted on the central casting through a shock-absorbing volute spring. The draw-gear could turn through a considerable radius – 45 degrees to each side of the centre line – without any sideways strain on the next linked bogie. Where bogies were simply linked through their ends, any sharp turn would risk derailing the next unit. This happened quite a lot on the Festiniog railway. As an intelligent ‘second adopter’ Péchot was determined to learn from their experience.

Besides having standard couplings, the draw-gear was equipped with side chains. This was typical of the belt and braces approach of Péchot design.

The bogie was not symmetrical, only having the compensated draw-gear at one end. The other, the tampon sec, also had draw-gear of a simpler sort which did not have the wide radius of ‘swing’. On occasion, the bogies were used as miniature wagons, pushed by hand. It was useful to make a train of them.

The bogie wheels also benefited from beautiful compensated springing. They could therefore ride out irregularities in height, those humps and bumps which were inevitable where track was roughly and hastily laid.

Best of all, each bogie had bevel-gear screw-brakes which operated on every wheel. The brake-wheel was located above the draw-gear standing well above the bogie platform and clear of the wagon. Alternatively, the brakes could be operated by a low-level handle if for some reason the brake-wheel had to be removed. During the First World War, simplified ‘Decauville 15’ bogie wagons were used; these had only one brake-wheel per wagon.

Wrightscale 16mm scale Péchot bogie wagon kit: stanchion. Seven were fitted per side and one at each end

Another thoughtful touch was found in the axle-box spring. As before mentioned, they were substantial affairs, part of a system of compensated springing. At the outer end of end was a substantial casting. Part of its job was to anchor the end of the spring. It also had a rectangular pocket, carefully orientated. This pocket exactly fitted a stanchion bar – the bars served two purposes. They normally secured the load to the wagon platform but one could also be used as a re-railing bar. Even a Péchot wagon might on occasion jump the track!

Wrightscale 16mm Péchot bogie kit. Back and front of the bogie turntable. The wagon body could rotate freely above.

The wagon body rested on the circular track visible on the bogie top, a sort of mini-turntable. Depending on the state of the track, the wagon body could pivot by means of rollers. The turntable-track was inward-tapere.

Although the Decauville Company had been working on wagon design for nearly twenty years, it took Péchot and his collaborators several years to perfect the design. By the summer of 1886, there were also six-wheeled bogies, each capable of carrying nine tonnes. By 1889, photographs show Péchot supervising Naval exercises where twelve-tonne (four-axle) bogies are in use. Imitation is the sincerist form of flattery. By 1889, the Germans had adopted 60cm gauge, producing their own bogie Brigadewagen and were well on their way to imitating the Péchot-Bourdon locomotive. During world war one, a system which its designer had seen as a weapon of attack had become an invaluable trench supply system for both Allies and Germans.

16mm Péchot bogie wagon made from a Wrightscale kit by Jim Hawkesworth. It is carrying a French gun of the period. Photo courtesy Jim Hawkesworth

The final question is a good one and one that craftivist should be happy to ask. Why bother? Aren’t there lots of other craft movements to join?

Everyone has a personal answer. You will have your own thoughts.

Here are ours. The Péchot system mattered a lot. It is an expression of France of the Belle Epoque, also an expression of individual genius. It is an innovation which had tremendous unintended consequences.

 

60cm and its part in ending the Great War

Armistice comes from two words – arms and stasis – ie the cessation of armed conflict.

The beginning of the end came for the Central Powers in September 1918. On the western front, they were being pushed back mile by mile, kilometre by kilometre but the retreat was in good order. They had carved themselves out an empire in Rumania and the western wheat-lands of what had been the Russian empire. The Allies, even backed by the AEF, could not knock the Germans out on the Western Front. It was on the forgotten south-eastern front that the greatest break-through of the war occurred.

A Bulgarian prisoner shows French and Serbian officers enemy positions below the beetling massif of Dobropolje on the Front Septmebr 1918. Drawing from Illustration courtesy MD Wright

After the disaster of Gallipolli, the Allies formed a new front in Greece. There was a certain logic. Firstly, there was the Serbian army. It had been crushed by Austria early in the War – the assassination of Franz Ferdinand had been the original cause of war. Their fighting forces had regrouped and would enthusiastically join any attempt to regain Serbian territory.

Secondly, Bulgaria joined the Central Powers, enticed by the prospect of new territory in conquered Serbia. The Allies in turn then persuaded Rumania to join them with the incentive of territory in Austria and Bulgaria. The idea of a front in northern Greece was to crush Bulgaria in a pincer movement – Rumania would attack from the north, the Allies with the Greeks from the south. Greece could be supplied from the Mediterranean. Greece had just fought a territorial war with Bulgaria in 1912/13 – it was bound to want to defend its gains. It was sure to join the Allies … wasn’t it?

As it was, the Greeks were reluctant allies. No doubt their stand was highly principled but they must have been influenced by events. At the time, the Allies seemed to be the losing side. In a few months between August 1916 and January 1917, the Germans and Bulgarians pretty well wiped out Rumania. This was an important gain – one of the few oil-fields of Europe and extensive agrarian lands. If the Greeks did not want to become a new Rumania, who could blame them?

That left a French, Serbian and British forces in north-east Greece. The British were to the east, looking across the marshes of the Struma river at the Bulgarians. They made much use of the port of Stavros on the eastern side of the Chalcedon (Khalkedoniki peninsula. The French and Serbians were based at Salonika (modern Thessaloniki) on the western side of this peninsula. Their front ran along the mountainous country between Greece and occupied Serbia (now the-former-Yugoslavian-republic of ?northern Macedonia). The front ran through Albania to the Adriatic. Though the Austrians were in nominal control of Serbia, Bulgarian troops and German advisers were in effect defenders of the whole of this Front.

Portable 60cm track designed by Prosper Pechot and manuafactured by the Decauville Company for the French Army. It could be laid and re-laid quickly. Illustration courtesyJim Hawkesworth

60cm narrow gauge proved vital. Previous entries in this blog have described the importance of the Péchot system/feldbahn/War Department Light Railways for supply duing World War 1. At the time, there was almost no other way to supply an army when it was at a distance from a standard gauge railway or canalised rivers. It was cruelty to use animals, motor transport was just developing and modern air supply a futuristic dream.  Portable narrow gauge track had been developed; an ‘iron road’ could be quickly laid and used by wagons and locomotives.  In 36 days, a 27 km line was constructed between Salonika and the French front.

A number of narrow gauge lines were laid around the military base at Salonica – 40 km (25 miles) at least on the French side alone. The British had to build a light railway right across the Chalcedon Peninsula to connect the two ports. Railways were built for supply, training, hospitals and repair shops.

In the early months, General Sarrail was C-in-C of French forces but he was gradually sidelined by Franchet-d’Esperey, later made Maréchal de France. 

This photo shows a 60cm railway at work behand British lines. It was the only way to take massive shells to the Front. Photo courtesy Roy Link

Once the armies were ascending the mountains, portable railways proved even more useful. Over the next couple of years, the French and Serbs gained ground from the enemy. As the defenders pulled back, they of course destroyed the railways – vital for communication in these mountainous parts. Standard guage track could be re-laid relatively quickly, but the Bulgermans destroyed all bridges and viaducts – of which there were many. It was hard to supply soldiers, let alone the artillery. In the rough country above 2000m (6000+ feet) a mule could carry 2 shells on a two-day journey between railhead and guns.

If the enemy thought that they could stop the French and Serbs, they were mistaken. A railway was pushed through the Krasradere valley, off the Vardar river, in five months. A single train could carry 25 tonnes of ammunition and the guns roared once more. We should note that, under normal conditions, a 60cm gauge train could carry 40 tonnes of supplies. The Péchot system was very versatile.

Monastir (modern Bitola) was an important objective. The standard gauge line had been thoroughly demolished, not least the Ekchisu viaduct – 360m lone and 30m high at the centre (400 yards by nearly 100’). As a quick fix, a 60cm railway was installed. It descended the ravine then climbed painfully up the other side – but it succeded in supplying the army for several months.

The Monastir front was supplied by other 60cm lines, most important of which was the one running westward, towards the beetling massif of Kukuruz (Kozjak). An offensive was planned for the second week of September 1918. The objective was the small town of Rozden and, if all went well, the valley of the Crna river.

French officers inspect a captured Bulgarian strongpoint (casino) September 1918. Magnificent in his kepi, General Franchet d'Esperey stands to the left of the group.From ' Illustration' courtesy MD Wright

The line was still heavily defended. The Bulgarians had the best of German technology and siege-works at their disposal. On the other hand, the Germans had thinned out this Front to shore up the Western Front.

They attacked on 15^th September, and broke the Bulgarian line. Between the 15^th and 21^st September, the French and Serbian army penetrated the line to a depth of 65 km (40 miles). Even better, they had captured a couple of standard gauge railways. Now they were really motoring (so to speak). By September 30^th, they were into the flatlands, with Bulgaria within reach. At this point, the British finally broke out of the lower Struma valley and pushed into the heart of Bulgaria.

There were exciting and heart-breaking scenes. Overhead, the young French airforce flew sorties. Bulgarian troops were caught in the narrow valleys. Excited Serbs raced at last towards Belgrade and home. The British caught an army at the Rupel pass. German advisers, well aware of the dangers of breaking rank, could be seen urgig the Bulgarians back to defensible positions.

Even more important were the politics. On September 25^th, a representative of Bulgarian commander-in-chief appeared before the parliament in Sofia to put the case for an armistice. It took until the 29^th for a ‘field’ armistice to be signed between the Bulgarians and General Franchet d’Esperey and rather longer for him to rein in his over-enthusiastic allies. On October 4^th, Tsar Ferdinand of Bulgaria abdicated in favour of his son Boris who was left with the task of official peace-making. A few days later, Allied forces occupied strategic points within Bulgaria.

Crown Prince Boris of Bulgaria was given the delicate task of concluding peace with the Allies. He preferred to approach Franchet d'Esperey rather than the British or Serbs. Photo courtesy MD Wright

A huge gap had been made in the Central Power enclave. Turkey was virtually cut off. Allied forces could strike up the Danube valley. Germany and Austria had lost their Ukrainian and Russian breadbaskets. The war was unwinnable.

Until events in Bulgaria, German High Command continued to maintain that ‘there is no ground for doubting our victory.’ As before mentioned, German troops were gradually retreating on the Western Front, but they were far from defeated, even by the might of the AEF. On the afternoon of 28^th September, a grey-faced General Ludendorff made his way to the office of Marshal Hindenburg where he informed him that an armistice should be concluded immediately. (Edmond Taylor, quoting from contemporary diaries The Fossil Monarchies pp 426/7)

On September  29^th, they informed the Kaiser. His reply was reputed to be ‘You could have told me all this a fortnight ago’. Like Tsar Ferdinand of Bulgaria, their aim was to conclude the war a/ by manoeuvring to make someone else to take the blame b/ by appealing to the friendliest person available. The objective of reining in the senseless slaughter seemed to be a distant third.

Prince Max of Baden was therefore summoned and more or less ordered to ‘make no difficulty’ for the German High Command. With commendable haste, he and his new government (which included Socialist leaders) got together a message by 4^th October. This was delivered to President Wilson of the USA, bypassing the other Allies. Wilson’s reply was not delivered until 14^th October and this was more about destruction of arbitrary power than about an armistice. In the end, it was not until November 8^th that a German armistice commission met with Marshal Foch – French – in a railway carriage at Compiègne. There an armistice was signed and 11^th November agreed for the cessation of hostilities.

A series of events triggered by the fall of Bulgaria led to the general armistice. Bulgaria was lost because of a small breach in its defences. This breach was made possible through good communications among the Allies. 

The Pechot-Bourdon locomotive was an emblem of French military 60cm railways. It was under a Pechot Bourdon  badge that Franchet d'Esperey made his 1932 speech. Illustration courtesy Raymond Duton

16mm portable railways were vital to these communications. General Franchet d’Esperey was well aware of this: ‘in a pathless country, we relied on Narrow Gauge for our victuals, munitions, evacuation of the wounded and for all our general needs.’ (Speech given at Toul in 1932)