Colonel Pechot and the Billy Goats Gruff

Firstly, an apology; in my previous blog, I referred to Hunger: How Food Shaped The Course Of The First World War. It is by Rick Blom and I read te translation by Suzanne Jansen. It is worth a read if you are interested in food. My sub-title should be ‘Clément Ader and narrow gauge railways’but I will explain why goats come into the story. In Colonel Péchot: Tracks to the Trenches, I devoted a whole chapter and more to what Péchot’s son, Henri Péchot, called the Battle of the Gauges (bataille des largeurs de voie). Henri Péchot wasn’t referring to the battle between the Great Western Railway and other British Railway companies, fascinating though that story might be, but to a battle between The Génie and the Artillerie.

This photo, courtesy of the family of Raymond Péchot, shows 15 tonnes of gun being moved on portable railway track. The trial took place in 1886 to test the Péchot system. The cause of the cintroversy was choosing a standard for French military field transport and the 'battle' took place in the period 1882 to 1888. The Génie, the equivalent of our Sappers, recommended waiting until a war began and then requisitioning civilian metre gauge railways, and repositioning them as needed. The Artillerie, in which Prosper Péchot was an officer, slightly less vociferously championed his portable system.

This drawing, courtesy of Jim Hawkesworth, shows a length of Péchot system portable track. Péchot had devised a new tailor-made system of field transport in 60cm gauge. The politicians preferred the requisitioning plan which required no immediate cost. The Péchot system involved upfront expenditure and so the plan was all but stifled. If you want to know whether the Artillerie or the Génie won the battle, buy the book! Revenons a nos moutons or rather nos chevres; you want to know where goats fit into the story. Prosper Péchot wasn’t the only patriot looking for a way to defend France. From 1871 until 1914, the nation smarted under its defeat, nay total humiliation, in the Franco-Prussian War. Every man, woman and child was keen to win next time … A number of schemes were put before the French Government to give their armed forces the edge in some future conflict. Péchot’s was one. Another was from Clément Ader. Clément Ader (1841 - 1926) was a celebrated inventor, known as the Father of Flight, Godfather of the Bicycle and inventor of the telephone. But I have not taken up my quill to defend his claims against the Wright brothers, Alexander Graham Bell and the like. Ader put forward an audacious plan for a railway which could propel itself across open ground. He put it forward as a means to ‘transport the Army cross-country.’ In short, Ader had also grasped the problem that had bedevilled both armies during the Franco-Prussian War, that of mobility in the battlefield. Ader’s first rail-related invention had been a chariot releveur des rails. Alright, I’ll get to the goats eventually.

This picture, author’s collection, shows his design for a 'detachable' railway for lifting and re-laying specially designed track. In 1866, he patented this machine for re-ballasting the permanent way. The plan was to automate a hard and potentially dangerous job. A device unclipped, then lifted the rail and then passed it to the other end of the train where it was relaid and the sleepers refastened. While th erail was off the ground, the track could be re-ballasted. Ader took his idea from a similar system used in coal-mines. It worked! These and other inventions caught the popular imagination. His electronic transmission of music from the Paris Opera, first unveiled in 1881, attracted four hundred subscribers. His aeroplane, Eole – God of the Winds – took off in 1890 and skimmed the ground for 50 metres. We are coming to the goats and the chemin de fer a rail sans fin, the endless-belt railway.

This picture, author’s collection shows the goats. Always aware of the importance of publicity, Ader invited the Press to come to Buttes Chaumont, a park in the 19th arrondissement of Paris, on 12th July 1877. There he showed off his newly invented all-terrain tramway. I surrender ma plume to a contemporary journalist: “Three small carriages were pulled by two goats. (The carriages) rolled on a curious endless railway whose parts were articulated so that, after the last carriage had passed, they could be lifted and pulled to the front of the train where they were laid down in front of the front wheels of the leading carriage. What really impressed the spectators was that two goats provided quite enough pulling-power; without any sign of strain, they pulled not only three carriages but also twenty passengers.” The demo rig was taken into the Jardin de Tuileries park in central Paris where it operated for the rest of the summer, carrying successive parties of children while proud mamans et gouvernantes looked on. Then the rig was dismantled.

The picture, author's collection, shows, in sketch form, the endless belt device. The track runs along under the carriages and then is taken up and runs from the back towards the front wheels, goes round them and is pulled back to the ground. Charming though this picture was, Ader had a serious aim. He had hoped that this model would be scaled up. Instead of an upmarket goat-cart, a steam engine would pull military grade freight. Equipped with these new caterpillar-tracked trains, the French army could be supplied along country lanes or even across meadows. But it was not to be. The Services Techniques of the French Army who were later to give Péchot such a hard time turned down this delicious invention. Writing for Illustration magazine in 1941, Jacques Faure commented that in the end, Ader’s invention of the auto-chenille – robot caterpillar – resulted in the ‘king of the battle-field’ – the tank, ultimate tracked vehicle. I’m not sure about that. Various men have claimed to have fathered the tank. Patents, whether registered or not, had appeared since 1837. The best attested appearance of an actual tracked vehicle had been one made by the Fowler Company which appeared at a steam-ploughing competition in 1861, well before Ader’s and indeed the Franco-Prussian War. Moreover, the tank in itself wasn’t king of the battlefield. The Allies introduced the tank during the battle of the Somme, two years before the end of the war. By 1918, the Germans had time to field a few tanks of their own. Péchot’s invention on the other hand, also adopted on both sides, directly enabled trench supply from 1914 to 18.

This illustration by Francois Flameng, author’s collection, shows a tank of 1918. The enemy it is about to crush look suitably terrified. But this much is true. Ader’s idea was one of the great might-have-beens. Mechanical descendants of the goats in the Tuileries Garden could have hauled guns to bridges over the Rhine: Goat: Trip trap, trip trap. The troll living under the bridge): Who’s that going over MY bridge? I’ll eat you up! To which the reply: It’s ME, Big Billy Goat Gruff and I’m going to knock you into the water! I’m not joking. When the 14-18 war began, the French marched towards the Rhine to retake their ‘lost provinces'. Their attempt to cross met with stern resistance. Meantime, the Germans were crossing into northern France by way of Belgium. You may like the following Rick Blom Hunger Unicorn Publishing London 2019 Translation from a Dutch original Jacques Pradayrol Voie Etroite French language magazine of the Association Picard pour la Preservation et Entretien des Vehicules Anciennes is always interesting, especially numbers 75, 76 and 77 (April May 1983, June July 1983 and August September 1983) In Number 77 page 11, Jacques Pradayrol quotes Henri Péchot. Illustration Magazine 13/03/41 page 268 article by Jacques Faure La Liberté French newspaper established 1865, last edition appeared 1940 Sarah Wright, Colonel Pechot: Tracks to The Trenches Birse Press 2014