The Honours Of War

The Seven Years' War was the pinnacle of 18th-century warfare, with dramatic campaigns and battles, famous leaders, and wide variety of colourful uniforms. Compared with the later Napoleonic Wars, tactics were simpler, armies more professional, and battles tended to be smaller. Using these quick-to-learn rules, players can bring this period to the tabletop, recreating anything from a small skirmish to a major pitched battle. Although simple, the rules allow for a wide range of tactics and reward historical play. That said, fog of war sometimes produces unexpected results and units don't always obey their orders! The game moves quickly, and players must be prepared to regroup and counterattack or to press home an advantage – a lot can happen in one move!

This book analyses the influences of ideas of honour on the causes, conduct, and endings of wars from Ancient Greece through to the present-day war in Iraq.

Shock Army of the British Empire presents a critical analysis of Canadian Corps operations during the 100 Days of Victory during the First World War. The 100 Days campaign of 1918, from the attack at Amiens, 8 August to the triumphant return to Mons, 11 November, was a remarkable turnaround from the near defeat suffered by the British and Allied forces in the spring and summer at the hands of the German Kaiserschlacht. As part of the largest British Army ever assembled, the Canadian Corps under Lt Gen Sir Arthur Currie spearheaded the Allied advance to victory. Author Shane Schreiber describes how the Canadian Corps managed to turn a tactical victory into a continuous string of consecutive successes in a sustained campaign. The story of the 100 Days is one of ferocious fighting and loss amid the victory, accounting for nearly 20% of all Canadian casualties during the war. This study examines the operational, tactical and organizational innovations used by the Canadian Corps during the campaign and their far-reaching effects. It reveals critical lessons for both soldiers and scholars alike about the nature of the Great War and about future high-intensity conflicts in general.

Many anthropological accounts of warfare in indigenous societies have described the taking of heads or other body parts as trophies. But almost nothing is known of the prevalence of trophy-taking of this sort in the armed forces of contemporary nation-states. This book is a history of this type of misconduct among military personnel over the past two centuries, exploring its close connections with colonialism, scientific collecting and concepts of race, and how it is a model for violent power relationships between groups.

In August 1917, the Canadian Corps captured Hill 70, vital terrain just north of the French town of Lens. The Canadians suffered some 5,400 casualties and in three harrowing days defeated twenty-one German counterattacks. This spectacularly successful but shockingly costly battle was as innovative as Vimy, yet few Canadians have heard of it or of subsequent attempts to capture Lens, which resulted in nearly 3,300 more casualties. Capturing Hill 70 marks the centenary of this triumph by dissecting different facets of the battle, from planning and conducting operations to long-term repercussions and commemoration. It reinstates Hill 70 to its rightful place among the pantheon of battles that forged the reputation of the famed Canadian Corps during the First World War.

In the following pages I have endeavoured to give a brief description of the various actions the names of which are emblazoned on the colours and appointments of the regiments in the British army. So far as I have been able, I have shown the part that each individual corps has played in every engagement, by appending to the account a return of the losses suffered. Unfortunately, in some cases casualty rolls are not obtainable; in others, owing to the returns having been hurriedly prepared, and later corrections neglected, the true losses of regiments do not appear. The whole question of the award of battle honours abounds in anomalies. Paltry skirmishes have been immortalized, and many gallant fights have been left unrecorded. In some cases certain corps have been singled out for honour; others which bore an equal share in the same day's doings have been denied the privilege of assuming the battle honour. In some campaigns every skirmish has been handed down to posterity; in others one word has covered long years of fighting. Mysore, with its one honour, and Persia, with four, are cases in point. In some instances honours have been refused on the plea that the headquarters of the regiment was not present in the action; in others the honour has been granted when but a single troop or company has shared in the fight. There are regiments whose colours bear the names of battles in which they did not lose a single man; others have suffered heavy losses in historic battles which are as yet unrecorded. At Schellenberg, for example, Marlborough's earliest victory, and one unaccountably absent from our colours, the losses of the fifteen regiments engaged exceeded the total casualties of the whole army in the campaign in Afghanistan from 1879 to 1881, for which no less than seven battle honours were granted. Esprit de corps is the keystone of the discipline of the British army, and the regimental colours are the living symbol of that esprit de corps. It is to their colours that men look as the emblems of their regimental history, and on those colours are—or should be—emblazoned the names of all historic battles in which the regiment has been engaged. A soldier knows—or ought to know—the history of his own regiment, but the moment arrives when his curiosity is piqued, and he wishes to learn something about a corps which has fought side by side with his own. Perchance curiosity may be excited as to the reason why Copenhagen appears on the appointments of the Rifle Brigade, and Arabia on the colours of the York and Lancaster; or how it comes about that Dominica is alone borne by the Cornwalls and Pondicherry by the Dublin Fusiliers. I have made no attempt to deal exhaustively with the subject; that would be beyond my powers and would open up too wide a field. I have therefore touched but lightly on those campaigns, such as the Peninsular and Waterloo, which are familiar to everyone in the least conversant with the history of his country, and have dwelt in more detail with those wars which are less well known. Memories are short. Already the South African War has been effaced by that titanic struggle between Russia and Japan. How, then, can the ordinary man be expected to carry in his mind even the rough outline of the Defence of Chitral, an episode which rivals Arcot in the heroism of its few defenders, or of Mangalore and Corygaum, which were in no way inferior in point of steadfast gallantry. When I read of the efforts made to insure the regular supply of jam during the South African War, my mind turns to Chitral, where the daily ration for six long weeks was one pound of flour a day, rice and meat being issued only on the doctors' orders, the one antiseptic available being carbolic tooth-powder! Or I think of Mangalore, which capitulated after Campbell had cut up his last horse and served out his last ration of flour. To be continue in this ebook...