Conversations With Brett Holman

Andrew D. Todd

 a_d_todd@rowboats-sd-ca.com 

http://rowboats-sd-ca.com/


My comments on Brett Holman's posts, 2006-2010,  mostly relating to his _The Shadow of the Airliner_, which he was then in the process of writing as his dissertation. The material has been slightly rearranged for clarity.



  Brett Holman, The shadow of the airliner, Sept 15-26?, 2006



 http://hnn.us/blogs/entries/29798.html
(now)
 https://web.archive.org/web/20120118105243/http://hnn.us/blogs/entries/29798.html

(My comment)

Confusing the Design with the Industrial Resources

I take it you will have read Nevil Shute's _Slide Rule_. One thing you have to remember is that in the 1930's aircraft were going through a phenomenal rate of technological change, and it was practically impossible to accumulate air power in being, as distinct from production capacity. Shute's experience as managing director of Airspeed was that he could scarcely get a model into production before it became obsolete, and he was having constant battles with the auditors about the valuation of inventory, or of airplanes which had been  sold on credit. The situation was rather like  the Silicon Valley, circa  2000 AD. Of course, once the war started, airplanes got shot down so fast that, again, what counted was the ability to produce new ones. Once the war started, the aircraft factories went to a system of  a few craftsmen directing the work of many young women. What was important was the skill level of these few craftsmen, especially as expressed in teaching ability. Likewise, building aircraft would have resulted in an accumulation of key manufacturing tools. Similarly, on the operations side, one of the scarcest resources was senior pilots, who could become flight instructors or squadron leaders, training schoolboys as combat pilots. In the period before  re-armament, the airlines had pilots flying in very remote and difficult areas, eg. South America, Canada, etc. Crossing the Andes was probably about the most demanding flying there was in the 1930's, mostly on account of the extreme altitude  (ridgelines above 18,000 ft, passes above 10,000). Almost any reasonable aviation program had substantial  military implications. What mattered was human capital.

As it happened,  Germany got in a few  years of  re-armament before the war started, and did not build a new generation of  transports because it was too busy building fighters and bombers. However, if the beginning of  re-armament  had precipitated a war, then of course the transport aircraft would have been  much newer, more competitive, and would have played a larger role.

It is a mistake to assume that airlines were operating  upon motives of economy. They were results-oriented, but that is not by any means the same thing. The one instance I know of where a comparatively large civilian passenger  airplane was intentionally designed away from high speed would be a couple of airplanes which Airspeed built for Sir Alan Cobham, the airshow entrepreneur, circa 1930. These were designed for "joyriding," that is, taking large numbers of passengers on short flights from rough fields, as a kind of taste of the future. The point was not to go anywhere, but simply to  take off, make  a  loop, and land. An actual airline, however, had to face the stiff competition of the railroads in their heyday. A well-run railroad could run its crack express trains at a hundred miles an hour, using the fast lane of four-track lines.  The practical economic question for civil aviation, and this runs through many of Shute's books, was, could you get the airplane on the "never-never," or did you have to pay for it in real money? I doubt fuel consumption per se  would have been a major issue. Even engine maintenance was likely to be performed by pilots. Alternatively, vide Ernest K. Gann, profitability  in servicing subsidized air-mail contracts was very often a matter of chutzpah in air-mailing telephone books to oneself. Airlines were not commercial business in the ordinary sense of the word, so much as they were extensions of governments. From what I can tell, temporarily viable airline routes were usually overwater, where the  effective competition was a ship. Shute's experience was that even many of these eventually went bankrupt when the venture capital ran  out, but that the  creditors made themselves whole by selling the airplanes to one side or the other in the  Spanish Civil War.

I think you may be falling into the error of "airspeed presentism."  The basic fact about airplanes in the 1930's was that their airspeed was half of the  speed of sound, or less. The speed of sound is a major discontinuity, and its side effects reach down to 500 mph (say mach 0.8 at altitude).  After 1950, aircraft design began to be governed  by concerns about whether airflows around the airframe might become supersonic, and this tended to force hard design choices. In the 1930's design was mostly about adopting improvements which are obvious in hindsight: retractable  landing gear, flaps, variable-pitch propellers, engine  turbochargers, etc.

The B-29 is something like the definitive outcome of aircraft development  in the 1930's. I made some rough-and-ready estimates of its fuel consumption if used as an airliner (say, 50 seats), and the figure I came up with is about 40 passenger-miles per gallon. In short, we are talking about approximately the same range as a private automobile, and this would have been for a luxury service. This would have to be gone into,  but I think you would find that  airfares were at least ten times the cost of fuel. It was  not until  the really advanced aircraft of the 1970's that everything else got cheap enough to make fuel costs significant. The cost of building and maintaining an aircraft is only weakly dependent on its size, and it took  jumbo jets to compete economically with Greyhound.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B-29_Superfortress

I think, more fundamentally, that we can talk about what a pacifist transportation  policy looks like. After its disastrous experiences in the Second World War, Japan abjured militarism, but,  once it was back on its feet, Japan  built the Tokaido railroad line, and the Seikan Tunnel. Similarly, the political unification of Europe has unleashed  a series of ambitious tunnel and bridge projects: viz, the Channel Tunnel, the St. Gotthard Base Tunnel (in progress), and the Baltic bridge/tunnel projects. There is almost a difference in philosophy, between building a really good road, versus building a machine which can go anywhere without a road.

Let me try to explain what I mean by "airspeed presentism." It is the importation of a set of assumptions about what airspeed means which are generally accepted at present, but which were not generally accepted in 1935.

Of course, a fighter is a specialized type, and was so at the time of the Second World War. However, the case for  the bomber is considerably more ambiguous.  Given the rate of change in the 1930's and 1940's,  small differences in design objectives tended to overtaken by other factors, such as the extent to which a given aircraft designer was comfortable experimenting with untested  technology. Both a heavy bomber and an airliner were designed around the assumption that the way to improve performance was: first,  make the runway longer; next, make the wing smaller, proportionately increasing both the stall speed and the maximum speed obtainable with a given engine; finally,  reach for the stratosphere, in search of thinner air and lower drag, and getting up above the uncertain weather as well. This approximately corresponds to Edward Constant's "turbojet as paradigm-shift" argument, though one might add that the turbocharger constituted a turbojet on the installment plan, as it were.  There was also another aspect, that of "chameleonizing" the airplane, with better flaps, variable-pitch propellers, etc., so that it could perform well at both high speeds and low speeds. The end result of this strategy was the B-47 with the notorious "coffin corner," in its flight envelope,  where the airplane was caught between its stall speed and the  speed of sound.  There was an answer within the "paradigm shift" logic-- design the airplane to go supersonic, and proceed up to Mach.2 and 60,000 feet (the Concorde, with titanium leading edges), or Mach 3 and 80,000 feet (The XB-70, with all-titanium construction). The swing-wing was the acme of chameleonization. In the logic of paradigm shift, speed was not so much a cost as a free lunch. This idea is rather akin to Moore's Law in electronics. Can you tell me, for example, what a military microprocessor looks like?

However, at this point of aircraft development, in the late 1960's, the Sonic Boom debate broke out. It was made clear that one could not get away with flying an airliner at Mach 3 over populated areas, and laying down a sonic boom. At that point, bombers began to diverge from airliners, as different classes of designers sought different solutions to the  limitations imposed by the sound barrier. The new kind of airliner was a "wide-body" jet with  high-bypass turbofans, designed primarily for economy of operation at limited speed, and comparatively modest altitudes of 20,000 feet or so. The Europeans got to the heart of the matter when they called their entry the Airbus. A parallel process was happening in the military, mostly having to do with escaping missiles. The B-1 and  B-2 Bombers really are distinctive aircraft, compared to the Boeing 747 or the Airbus, as well as compared to each other. The  B-1 is designed to go in at about five hundred feet, flying below the radar. It has adopted a strategy which the airliner designer would not even consider following. And as for the notion of a "stealth" airliner-- the imagination boggles. It is this kind of order of difference which separates present notions of aircraft design from those of the 1930's.

About popular reaction to the Channel Tunnel in the nineteenth century, Willy Ley made the point in  his _Engineers' Dreams_ (1954) that this was very much an exercise in Francophobia. In any case, the tunnel did not get built in the 1880's. France could not build it unilaterally. It is not important whether English objections were well-founded. What is important is that the project got deep-sixed until England was ready for it. Of course railroads have military uses (see Pratt, Showalter, below), but at the same time, these uses have limitations. Certainly, building a railroad de novo is likely to be an involved proposition,

On American domestic routes, of, say, five hundred miles, jet airliners frequently do not achieve more than 100-200 mph average speed, once one has counted in such incidentals as retrieving one's luggage from baggage claim, time waiting for connections, etc. I think my record for slow air travel was a Beech 1900 propjet operating over a seventy-mile leg, which achieved only thirty-five miles per hour. Upon later inquiry, I discovered that the local taxicab company made quite a good thing out of substituting for the propjet when it was unserviceable. Getting an airplane into the air is intrinsically a  bit of a production, and this has to be offset against the airplane's  flying speed.

The great strength of the passenger train is that it is very good at rapidly starting and stopping, and rapidly loading and unloading. It is commonplace for a crack express train to have stops every  fifty miles or so, because that can be done without cutting into the average speed significantly. If you game out travel times between secondary cities (let us say, Rouen, in France, and Magdeburg, in Germany), using  regularly scheduled routes, you will probably find that the train can keep up with the airplane as long as the train's peak speed is, say,  half  or even a third  of that of the airplane. It is difficult for an airplane to  plug into the railnet at the same level that a  train can plug in. The common practice is for the  local train and the express train to stop on different sides of the same platform. Likewise, a train stops in the heart of a big city, whereas airports are necessarily selected for  their remote locations. That said, the pragmatic argument for air travel in the 1930's seems something of a stretch. There was  probably more of symbolism in it, barring the special case of overwater  flight.

I understand that where discount airlines such as RyanAir do well in Europe at present is in catering to people who want to go a long way, typically North Europeans who want to get away from the winter. That implies not only a long distance, a couple of thousand miles, but an indifference to destination. The tour organizer can say, in effect,  that all sun-tourists from Hamburg, in Germany, will go to Greece, and all sun-tourists from Manchester, in England, will go to Sicily. This means that the tour organizer does not have to monkey around with the logistics of connecting flights, the way an airline catering to business travelers does.

In practice, there were more dimensions of variation than there were aircraft manufacturers, so I don't think you can prove anything at quite the level of finding feature  differences between civil and military aircraft. For example, civilian airlines tended to require banking accommodation. Air forces did not. They spent money "as if they were printing it,"  which was of course the exact truth. In his autobiography,  Eddie Rickenbacker, who was chief of Eastern Airlines, gives an account of negotiating with Boeing and Douglas for jet airliners. He wanted noise suppressors, and thrust reversers, and interest on his deposit. Boeing took the position that they did not need instruction in aircraft design, and refused financial accommodation point-blank. Classic Rolls-Royce salesman, in short. Douglas agreed about  the financial accommodation, and promised a serious effort on the technical issues (Edward V. Rickenbacker,. _Rickenbacker: His Own Story_,  1967, ch. 19 (pp. 440-41, pbk. edn.). Some of the most important differences between military and civilian work  have to do with this kind of thing. 

I've been looking at James Hay Stevens, _The Shape of the Airplane_ (1953?),  and I note that the one characteristic of a good bomber which he emphasizes is a large unobstructed bomb bay, as exemplified by the Avro Lancaster. The designers of other bombers tended to figure out what was the largest bomb they would want to handle, and then break the bomb bay down into compartments of that size, in the interests of structural strength. This is a long way from the core of an aircraft design of that date, which would be the wings and the engines, and  of course aircraft engines are essentially interchangeable, like automobile tires.  Airplanes were periodically being refitted with  new engines, eventually going turboprop. I think you would need to show some evidence of distinctive design tendencies in bomber wings vis-a-vis airliner wings.

I ran across a couple of  interesting references on Slashdot a while back. The gist of then was that one of the risks of employing ex-military Information Technology people is that they are very sloppy about  complying with software licensing terms. They tend to take the attitude that "it all belongs to Mr. Rumsfeld anyway, and if anyone wants to argue, we've got some  really impressive  guards with submachine guns and attack dogs. The dogs eat a bailiff or process server, and an hour later, they're hungry again." In a civilian business, that is an excellent formula for expensive legal  difficulties.

About the Channel Tunnel, the big point to remember  is that the invasion panic was a showstopper. It blocked the tunnel  for a hundred years, by the end of which time both the British and French empires had collapsed, and both countries had an inferiority complex about the United States, the Soviet Union, Japan, and who knows what else? Projects of that sort cannot go forward without sustained support at both ends. In any event, civil engineering projects are not mobile in the same sense as airliners. Suppose that Britain had put a lot of money into subsidizing an airline in Canada, operating between, say, Montreal and Vancouver on  the Pacific coast. This would not have been an entirely unreasonable thing. The government of Canada does periodically worry about regions becoming assimilated to the adjoining portions of the United States, and takes measures to bind Canada more closely together. However, European powers would have done sums in their heads about how fast the  airplanes could be flown across the Atlantic. Better and faster railroads would  not have had that kind of potential.

I would differ with you about the extent to which war production can be "saved up." You can put your industrial surplus into  making things like machine tools, which can then be used to make a great variety of things. I ran into an argument in one of the American Machinist  blogs (I'm afraid I don't have the citation at hand) about whether a lathe or a planer is to be considered the primal machine tool, that is, the machine tool with which all other machine tools can be manufactured.  At any rate, given a sufficiently large accumulation of machine tools, you can set them up with jigs and train beginners to do specialized tasks.

Certainly, basic materials such as iron and steel can be produced "on spec," without any clear idea of what they are eventually  going to be used for. If you will recall, Frederick Winslow Taylor, the American efficiency expert, and founder of  Taylorism, tested his ideas by supervising a gang of workmen who were engaged in moving, by hand, some tens of thousands of tons of iron "pigs" (each weighing eighty pounds or so) which a steel mill had produced, and had then left lying in a field.

The intermediate products can be accumulated in a defensible central area, as can many crucial tools, workers, etc. I know that in the immediate postwar period, Volkswagen was anxiously concealing  from the French occupation authorities certain essential machinery which had originally been looted from France. Fortunately for Volkswagen, they were in the British occupation zone, and the  British authorities were rediscovering their own long-lost dislike for Frenchmen.
--------------------------------------------------------
Dennis   E.   Showalter,   _Railroads   and   Rifles:    Soldiers, Technology, and the Unification of Germany_, Archon books, Hamden, Connecticut, 1975

William A. Shurcliff, _S/S/T and Sonic Boom Handbook_, 1970A further sidenote:

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Edwin  A.  Pratt, _The Rise of Rail Power in  War  and   Conquest, 1833-1914_,  P. S. King & Son, Ltd., London, 1915

Old reading note follows:

A  fairly practical book, oriented towards how to  use  railroads for military purposes, illustrated with examples from the wars of  the  nineteenth  century. This is military  history  rather  than history of war.
   While  there is a brief consideration of armored  trains,  the military  uses  of railroads are mostly logistic.  Railroads  can transport troops, either in short flanking movements, or in  long strategic  ones.  They make it possible for  the  whole  economic power  of the home country to be brought to bear in the  form  of supplies,  and  permit the rapid removal of  sick,  wounded,  and P.O.W.s, who would otherwise hamper the army's mobility.
   Pratt  lays stress on the importance of developing a  combined army-railroad  staff.  The soldiers have to set  priorities,  but they  have  no idea how to run a railroad.  Railroaders  are,  of course, the opposite.
   Railroad troops have to provided, to repair and destroy  track at need, and also to operate trains in enemy territory. They  can only  be raised and trained, in practice, with the  collaboration of the civil railroads.
  As  far  as the conduct of operations, Pratt  emphasizes  first that  the  railroads  must be centrally  controlled,  to  prevent individual commanders from disrupting their operations. At  least in  the  early  days  of  the  American  civil  war,  low   grade functionaries would do stupid things (he gives the example of the paymaster who set up shop in a boxcar, ignoring the fact that  he was  thus  blocking the main line).  More  seriously,  commanders tended  to view cars as mobile magazines, much like  the  earlier commissariat wagons, despite their greater value and scarcity.  To add  to this, supply officers at the rear will naturally  incline to  send  off everything they can as soon  as  possible.  Between them,  they can easily throw the forward railhead into  gridlock, and  create an acute shortage of rolling stock elsewhere  in  the system.
   To  prevent this, a rear base must be set up, far enough  back to be clear of the fighting, with associated depots. This is  the boundary   between  the  civilian  railroads  and  the   military railroad.  All shipments are stopped here, unloaded, sorted  out,
and the cars returned to the civilian system. It is important  to have  the manpower to do so immediately. From here, supplies  are dispatched rapidly forward on an as needed basis.
   There  may  have to be an intermediate base  further  forward, especially for the keeping of a reserve of ammunition, loaded  in cars.  This will be the furthest point to which there is  regular service,  which is to say it will be just far enough back  to  be temporarily  immune  to the operations of the enemy.  Forward  of  this  is  an extent of insecure line to the  railhead,  which  is
constantly shifting, according to the fortunes of war. Nothing is  allowed to accumulate here. Trained come forward with stores  for immediate use, are rapidly unloaded, and withdraw immediately.
   Still  further forward are the railroad troops,  repairing  or wrecking  the line as the case may be. In the pursuit,  they  are  expected to keep up with the advance guard.
   In  dealing  with  the  planning  of  railroads  for  military purposes,  Pratt attempts, not wholly successfully, to construct  a distinction  between ordinary railroads, for economic  ends,  and strategic ones. The characteristic traits of a strategic railroad system   are  a  lot  of  lines  running  to  the   border,   for mobilization,  and a lot of lines running along the  border,  for
flanking movement.
   Finally,  he interprets German railroading in Africa  and  the near  east as a central part of a prewar scheme to overthrow  the British Empire.


Re: Brett Holman, An alternative Battle of Britain -- I

HNN Cliopatria [pseudonym, ], before Aug 3, 2006

  http://hnn.us/blogs/comments/28719.html#comment (now)  https://historynewsnetwork.org/blog/28719


(Aug 7,2006)

Here is a book written on the very eve of Pearl Harbor, by one of the very great writers  on strategic studies.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Bernard Brodie, Sea Power in the Machine Age, Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1941

This is a history of the rise of the modern battleship, ironically written in the very hour of its demise. While written in the first days of the second world war, it treats the first world war as the climax of technological development, and the events of 1939 to spring, 1941 as merely  more of the same.

   The sailing ship was restricted by the wind. Most importantly, it could not sail directly upwind. The "high ground" of naval combat was the "weather gauge," upwind from the enemy. Equally to the point, the sailing ship was subject to the variability of the wind. Apart from calm weather, the wind might shift, and the hunter become the hunted. But at the same time a sailing ship could go for indefinite distances under wind power. Before the battle of Trafalgar in 1805, Nelson had chased Villaneuve to the West Indies and back. The French navy, while inferior in naval strength, had been able in 1798 to evade British surveillance and put [a force ashore] in Ireland.

   Steam power made naval power far more certain, but also far more local. The steamship could go in any direction in any weather, but it was also tied to its supply of coal, and to the complex repair facilities dictated by its machinery. Global power required a global network of bases, and an empire to go with them. Paradoxically, the steam navy was a navy which was most threatening while in port.

   Steam power, and its concomitants, iron construction and large turret-mounted guns, had been billed as a naval revolution, capable of overthrowing the global dominance of the British navy. However, the industrial requirements of a steam navy merely resulted in the dominant industrial power-- Britain-- becoming the dominant naval power of the steam age.

   At the beginning of the twentieth century, a new innovation appeared-- the submarine. Submarines offered the promise of using stealth to bypass the battleship. However, soon after the submarine appeared, so did submarine detection gear, as well as the use of airplanes to locate submarines. In may 1941, Brodie had heard rumors of ASDIC (sonar) and had it confused with radar, all of which were still secret, but he still had a basic idea of what the equipment did.

   Brodie minimizes the effect of aircraft, treating the aircraft carrier as a battleship by other means. That is, the carrier's airplanes perform the same function as a battleship's guns, only at a greater range, and with a lower rate of fire.

   Writing when he did, Brodie missed the one most striking characteristic of the aircraft carrier-- the near impossibility of designing it in a compartmentalized fashion. This fact, of course, contributed mightily to the decisive character of the battle of Midway in 1942.


HNN post, re: Brett Holman, Thanks for playing,

HNN Cliopatria [pseudonym, ], before Oct 31, 2006

  http://hnn.us/blogs/comments/31329.html#comment (now) https://historynewsnetwork.org/blog/31329

(My comment)

(Nov 3, 2006)

What Computerized Games Are Good At

I think the  problem about computer  war games is that they short-circuit the process of working through the game  rules to the point of becoming critically familiar with them, and being able to circumvent them as needed. To a lesser degree, this is also a fault of the Avalon-Hill hex-grid style wargame. The classic staff college war game was one of real maps with acetate overlays, and people measuring distances off on the map, and of course an umpire, or umpires, to keep players from gaming the rules, and the umpires maintaining their own sets of maps, etc.

A different way to use a computer is to manage a  more rigorous game with many human players. This is what happens in frankly fantasy games such as Second Life, and the more advanced multiplayer Dungeons and Dragons-type games. Such a game has very few embedded rules. Pieces can move continuously along prespecified paths, and report back when something happens, so the rules do not  have to be so complex as they would be in the hex-grid game. In short, the  game can do the kind of housekeeping management that blog software does. The goal is to make it easier to assemble the requisite number of people to conduct a war game, not to get the computer to simulate everything.

Now, of course such a game is not going to be attractive to a commercial  publisher in the business of selling many new titles of games. A good  gaming system is going to have the  kind of extended versatility as, say, a pack of playing cards. Practically,  such a system would have to be developed by  an enthusiast, probably in the context of an on-line group.

I should add a qualification. Computer simulation of naval/air warfare and logistics does work very well. The basic tactical issue in air/sea warfare is usually an "intercept," that is, given the speeds, ranges and initial positions of two units, can one intercept the  other, and after what lapse of time? This is essentially a problem in applied geometry. A corollary is that if a computer simulation works well, you can rejig the simulation as an automatic controller. Automatically try out different inputs to the simulation until you get the desired output, and then use those inputs as control signals for the actual machinery. At least ninety percent of the sailors at Jutland or Midway were doing things which are now done  by machines. As for Trafalgar, the figure would be conservatively ninety-nine percent. I don't know whether there's much market for antiquarian naval games. There's always a temptation to introduce, by some pretext, more modern technology. If you try to get a thirteen-year-old  boy to play a Trafalgar game, he will inevitably ask:"where are the machine guns?" Such games may simply be too boring to be played. In these areas, the interesting thing to study is how people moved past "mind blocks," in the planning, equipping and training stages, for example, the decision to launch the Kami Kaze corps. By contrast, medieval land war games can look surprisingly modern.


HNN post, re: Brett Holman, The Douhet dilemma, Apr 8, 2007

  http://hnn.us/blogs/comments/37424.html#comment

Again, irretrievable. But it is apparently a discussion of "pre-Douhet-ism."

Think of Douhet as a Synthesizer or  Popularizer, not an Originator. 

I've noticed something analogous with other figures, eg. Adam Smith. What it turns out is that there were all kinds of people saying much the same thing, for some time, until the movement produced an articulate spokesman. For example, I ran across a man writing circa 1670, who had formulated  the essential ideas of classical economics, a hundred years before Smith. 

 Roger Coke, _A Discourse on Trade. In Two Parts. The First treats  of  the Reason  of  the  Decay  of the Strength,  Wealth,  and  Trade  of England. The latter of the Growth and Increase of the Dutch Trade above  the English_, London, H. Brome, R. Horne,  1670,  facsimile edition, Arno Press, New York, 1972.

Coke was  not remotely as lucid as Adam  Smith, and simply didn't write well enough for best-seller status, but the essential ideas are there, in the age of Colbert and Sir George Downing.

If you wanted to look at early science fiction, eg. Jules Verne,  Felix Robida, and their forgotten contemporaries, you could probably find Douhetism in inchoate form. The  starting point would  be I. F. Clarke's _The Pattern of Expectation, 1644-2001_, 1979.
=====================================================
=====================================================
HNN Post, Brett Holman, Zeroth World Wars, Sept 10, 2009

http://hnn.us/blogs/entries/116122.html
(deleted, but available at)
https://web.archive.org/web/20111107124745/http://hnn.us/blogs/entries/116122.html

The Relation Between Weapon Range and Scale of Battle.

With the increasing range of weapons, generals tended to swing ever wider, in search of an open flank. This reached its perfection in operations like the Anzio and Inchon landings. The  wider turns tended to expand wars.

In 1870, during the Franco-Prussian war, Von Moltke the  Elder deployed his troops along the  Franco-German border for about a hundred miles between the Rhine and the Moselle. The Moselle was the border  between the German Saar and  Luxembourg. The major  railroad lines  between France and German ran through Saarbrucken, in  the center. Von Moltke had room to conduct repeated enveloping  maneuvers,  and wound up crossing  the Moselle about fifty miles south  of  the Belgian border, and besieged half of the French army  in the border town of Metz. He proceeded though French territory to the Meuse, passing through the gap between the Vosages  mountains and the Ardennes,  about fifty miles wide, and followed the  Meuse to  Sedan, south of the Ardennes, where he finally accepted the  surrender of a disintegrated remnant of the French army, which happened to  include the Emperor Napoleon III.  The  road to Paris  was open by this time, and if Napoleon had retreated into Belgium, he could have been ignored. Von Moltke had no need to violate Belgian neutrality, and he  did not do so.

(See J.F.C. Fuller's discussion in _The Decisive Battles  of the Western World_, 1954,  ed., abridged, John Terraine, 1970)

In 1870, fifty or a hundred miles was an indefinitely large space. In the American Civil War, the dual campaigns of Vicksburg and  Port Hudson to open up the Mississippi River were roughly comparable  in scale. So was the Gettysburg Campaign. 

By 1914, weapons had improved  to the  point that  it was necessary to  go around the north side of the Ardennes, to get clear  of France's prepared fortification belt. Violating  Belgian neutrality meant war with England. The planning for 1914 began back in 1905, with the Von Schliefen Plan, at about the same time  that the Anglo-German naval race began. They were related events, obviously. Conflict with England, in turn, implied the necessity of developing an alliance with a non-European power, such as Turkey, which might be able to do something about England's global lines of communication.  It also implied the necessity of submarine  warfare. The Zimmerman Telegram? If Germany could not have the United States as an  ally, it needed to keep the  United States occupied in punishing Mexico. All of these things followed from the  idea that fifty or a hundred miles was not a wide enough front to deploy an army. Even so, Norway was able to sit out the First World War, but not the Second World War, because the increasing performance  of aircraft  rendered it a desirable base-- for both sides. 



HNN  Post, re: Brett Holman, Nobody could have foreseen this, july 17, 2010

http://hnn.us/blogs/comments/129108.html#comment

Irretrievable. As I recall, Holmn was complaining that his publisher had relegated his footnotes to a website-- and then lost the website.

Internet Archive

I looked up  Ramsden's footnote website on the Internet Archive, and I looked up my own website for comparison, so as to understand the meaning  of the Internet Archive's statistics. My conclusion is that the footnote website had probably  ceased to exist by the  end of 2006. Do you have any evidence to the contrary?  Granted, that the domain was paid up until 2008, but the server may not have been. At any rate, the Internet Archive captured the notes, and they are available, as your correspondent "Sharon" at  Air-Minded  noted.

For what it is worth, the going rate for independent website hosting is something like a hundred dollars a year, when you include things like domain registration fees. Each year, you get more capacity, both in the form of storage and of download bandwidth, but the fee does  not decrease.  Now, of course, if you use a  website properly, and post large quantities of stuff, the fee  is not a big issue. However, if you are just  using  the website to  post a supplemental leaflet for  a book, it would almost certainly be cheaper to bind  additional pages into a paper book and use small print. I don't know if you've ever used the old paper edition of  the  Social Science Citation Index, which was in use back in the  1980's, but  they had print so so small  that one  needed a  magnifying glass. It may well  be the case that the author and publisher never agreed  who was  going to pay for  the  website, in which case it would  have  vanished when  the annual fee  became  due.

Now, of course, a publisher which was competent in  internet affairs would have provided a page for each book within a larger  website, in which case,  the  maintenance costs would have been  trivial. I suspect the publisher _really_ didn't  want to  publish footnotes, and  manipulated matters to that end.





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