Wow, what a hefty book! Both in topic and length, the Ring of Fire is no breeze to drift through. It's a trod, full of a dismantled past, and interestingly, the beginning of that past. The Ring of Fire's aim is simple in its premise, but world-wide in its delivery. We have coverage of the many outbreaks that made the beginning of World War 1.

The parts of the book that I personally found most intriguing were the sections about the general populace, and their many opinions at the beginning of the War, and how sometimes misplaced their worries were. We learn so much, things I've never even contemplated before! For example, of course it was holiday season, and tourists had to rush home. Of course embassies were overloaded. We learn at how one woman went on a short hunger strike because of her disgust at the thought of travelling home in steerage, whilst another wanted a written guarantee that the ship would not be sunk by a submarine. All these little titbits really brought home the humanity aspect.

I'm not much for the military side of things, and this book is full of battles and skirmishes. But it's also full of little moments. Moments that surprised me, and that really built up a solid picture. I didn't once stop to think about countries destroying their own resources (like Belgium with its transport network). Nor did I expect to really connect with a locomotive named Cuckoo, and how a man named Arthur Pasquier pleaded for Cuckoo's survival. (Read it to find Cuckoo's fate!).

The quotes that have been scoured for really bring a unique aspect to the war. The imagery and point-of-views we read from the book really make the book special. Like how the bellowing of cows "sounded like the voice of universal suffering in the clutches of a pitiless fate." It brings another front to the context that people and animals alike were suffering.

It was also interesting to read about outside of Europe. From Japan's imperial aims at supporting the Allied cause, to just how global the First World War was. It’s sometimes so centralised to Europe in our minds, we forget about how this war effected every nation. Even those of Latin America, who had no part to play, were hit hard due to loss of exports. Or how colonial subjects were also brought to the scene. It was interesting learning about the attitudes some had towards fighting for these European lands that had subjugated them, or even if people of colour were allowed to fight to begin with. From Africa, to India, and to Australia, learning about these prejudices really casted a light on how the war developed the twentieth century.

All in all, the First World War was really a war of universality, even for those who were neutral. From war profiteers of the Netherlands to the requisitioning of village horses for the fight on the front--everyone had a story to tell, and this book plays a part in telling it.

In my reading experience, the definitive account of the outbreak of The Great War remains Barbara Tuchman's The Guns of August (1962). The author made us flies on the wall in cabinet meeting rooms across Europe, and hidden observers within General Staff offices of the armies of Germany, Britain, France and Russia. This book is very different. Its premise is that this was a truly global conflict, principally due to the vast colonial outreach of the major powers. Men and women, ordinary citizens of places in Africa that were ruled from London, Berlin, Paris and Brussels, remote settlements in the Caucuses who were subject to the rule of the Tsar, shoeless peasants in the outer reaches of the ailing Ottoman empire, and those living in the United States and South America who were part of the colossal diaspora from Europe - all felt the rough hand of destiny on their shoulder.

The celebrated (but not always admired) historian AJP Taylor famously argued that the outbreak of the war was inevitable, due to military planning relying on inflexible railway timetables. Once the trains, packed with tens of thousands of men, headed off to their destination, then conflict was inevitable. This theory is easily challenged but Churchill and Eberholst give this example:
Britain's rail network comprised some 23,000 miles of track. On 4th August 1914, 130 companies were effectively taken over by the government. At Aldershot, from 5th August officers were being handed dossiers that revealed the plan for their departure. For instance: 'Train No 463Y will arrive at siding B at 12.35 a.m., 10th August. You will complete loading by 3.40 a.m.'


Britain's army in 1914 was tiny compared to those of France, Germany and Russia. It was even outnumbered by the army of Belgium, but it was superbly trained and had relatively recent battlefield experience in the Boer Wars. The key difference between Britain and the empires of France and Germany was in the existence of Britain's white dominions. Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South Africa were, in theory at least, at one with the mother country's foreign policy.

One of the many valid points made by the authors is the vexatious question of perceived neutrality. Long before the first shots were fired in the war, developed nations needed vast quantities of imports and, were they fortunate enough to possess natural resources, ships to export material and goods elsewhere. The ownership of cargo vessels was perhaps not as opaque then as it is now but, for example, if a Swedish ship sailed into Hamburg loaded with iron ore, did that compromise Sweden's notional neutrality? What if an American ship loaded with wheat were headed for the Port of London? Did that make the vessel fair game for German submarines?

The authors remind us that by the time the trenches ran from Switzerland to the Belgian coast, maps were able to be made showing every dip or fold in the land and - literally - every large shell crater. In the dying days of August 1914, particularly in the rural areas of Galicia, East Prussia and Serbia, the landscape was a complete mystery to field commanders. Knowledge of the terrain was almost completely absent, resulting in disastrous tactical blunders by all sides.

Comparing different kinds of horror brought about by war is, perhaps, futile, but as an amateur historian brought up on grim tales of life in the Western Front trenches, I was struck by the descriptions of the relentless carnage of these early weeks of the war. Yes, it was a war of movement but, in particular, it was fought in intense August heat. Men on the march were driven mad by thirst; tinder-dry fields and woods caught fire quickly, cremating the dead and wounded alike. This was a new kind of war; medical services were woefully inadequate to meet carnage on this scale. I was quickly disabused of any notions I had that these early battles between the huge armies were somehow cleaner and less grisly than the trench warfare which followed them.

Another surprise (at least to this woefully ignorant reader) was to learn that Japan and Britain fought together to drive Germany out of Chinese city of Tsingtao (below) between August and November 1914. It is a sobering reflection on the fragile nature of national alliances to think that less than a decade earlier, Japan and Russia locked horns in a savage war. Now, they were, notionally, allies in a war against Germany.




As autumn turned into winter, the major powers were all unsteady on their feet. The French had suffered astonishing losses in the east, but had engineered a miracle on The Marne. Germany’s relentless advance through Belgium had been thwarted, and they had back-pedalled in disarray to dig in north of The Aisne. Despite the debacle at Tannenberg, Russia had inflicted a monstrous defeat on Austria Hungary in Galicia. This account, from a Hapsburg officer, is horrific :

'Scenes from Dante's Inferno were happening on the road. Driven by instinct, both men and horses pressed forward, regardless of the corpses and wounded lying on the ground. Horses hooves were treading over bellies and heads. Intestines, guts, brains mixed with mud covered the road with a bloody mess. The screams of the wounded, men and horses, together with the cracking rifles, grenade and shell explosions drove one to near insanity.'

I am always intrigued by writing partnerships, and ponder the (largely irrelevant) question, "Who did what?" Whatever the respective inputs were here, Churchill and Eberholst have written a book that is both historically authoritative but always accessible. UK Great War literature tends, for quite laudable reasons, centred on the Western Front and the great calamities that took place there, but here we have a timely reminder of the days before the trenches were dug "from Switzerland to the sea" and the horrific slaughter that took place in places with names that have long since vanished from the map. Ring of Fire will be published by Apollo on 8th May.