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In this engaging biography of Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, the author sets out to ask whether history has been kind to the reputation of one of Britain’s more overlooked generals. Most who know his name associate him with the First World War, where he played a pivotal role as commander of the British Expeditionary Force’s II Corps during the opening stages of the conflict. He is equally remembered for his very public falling out with his Commander-in-Chief, Sir John French, who seemed to throw his subordinate under the proverbial bus in an effort to preserve his own reputation and position. While this book inevitably builds towards that dramatic clash at a critical moment in the war, it also reveals that Smith-Dorrien’s military and administrative career was fascinating in its own right. The author traces his quintessentially colonial military upbringing in remarkable detail: indeed, well over half the book is devoted to his service in campaigns such as the Zulu War, Egypt and the Sudan, India and the North West Frontier, and perhaps most consequentially of all, the Boer War.
I was amused to hear someone comment that Smith-Dorrien’s career was not unlike that of George MacDonald Fraser’s fictional Flashman — always seeming to be at the centre of critical events in history. The author points out that his career might have ended abruptly at the slaughter of Isandlwana, but fortunately he was serving as a supply officer at the time and so wore a blue uniform rather than a red one. The Zulu warriors had been instructed to chase down and kill those in the quintessential red of the British infantryman. Another Flashman-like coincidence came after the Battle of Omdurman in 1898, when Smith-Dorrien was sent down the Nile to deal with a diplomatic complication: the arrival of Captain Jean-Baptiste Marchand in an isolated settlement strategically vital to both France and Britain in their imperial rivalry.
Critically, Smith-Dorrien fostered a good working relationship with the rather curmudgeonly Kitchener, then Sirdar of the Anglo-Egyptian army, who would later play a vital role in both the Boer War and the First World War. This relationship provided a buffer against the hostility of Sir John French when the two were operating under the immense pressures of 1914.
This is definitely a sympathetic account of Smith-Dorrien, and I agree that the author makes a compelling case that he was a remarkable soldier — one invested in the welfare of his troops, confident in his abilities, and willing to speak truth to power even when it made him powerful enemies. He ignored what he regarded as inept or immoral orders, as at Sanna’s Post in the Boer War, when he was ordered to leave wounded soldiers on the battlefield and openly defied the command. The Boer War ruined many reputations, but Smith-Dorrien was an exception, emerging as one of the more impressive performers and building a circle of admirers and friends in the military.
He was also one of the first to recognise that cavalry would struggle on the modern battlefield and would be better employed as mobile infantry, trained to dismount and fight rather than attempt doomed charges against machine guns, high-powered rifles, and modern artillery. He was able to put some of these innovations into practice as GOC Southern Command, which encompassed the majority of the British Army’s training grounds. There he implemented lessons from the Boer War that would prove crucial in keeping the BEF competitive against the overwhelming numbers of the German Army in the opening stages of the First World War.
Originally, Smith-Dorrien had not been slated to accompany the BEF to France in the opening stages of the war, but the sudden and unexpected death of Sir James Grierson provided him with the opportunity. Tellingly, the Commander-in-Chief had not wanted Smith-Dorrien and preferred Sir Herbert Plumer, but Kitchener overruled him and placed Smith-Dorrien in charge of II Corps.
The denouement of this book is the stand at Le Cateau, part of the retreat from Mons, as it became obvious that the British Army was in danger of being obliterated by the full weight of the German invading army advancing under the Schlieffen Plan to encircle Paris. Sir John French felt that the best way to preserve his army was to retreat as quickly as possible. Smith-Dorrien disagreed. His soldiers, exhausted from the brutal initial clashes at Mons, were arriving in dribs and drabs at Le Cateau. He believed that turning to face the advancing Germans, forcing them to stop and fight, and then organising a phased withdrawal would be safer than risking his men being caught piecemeal along the crammed roads filled with retreating soldiers and refugees.
By doing so, Smith-Dorrien disobeyed a direct order from his superior. His choice was further complicated by the fact that I Corps was obeying the order to retreat, while French forces on the other flank had already withdrawn precipitately, leaving his men even more vulnerable to encirclement and destruction. Yet in a very short space of time he masterminded a highly effective stand that surprised and delayed the advancing Germans. In the words of the German commander von Kluck, in his memoirs: “I tried very hard to outflank them, but I could not do so. If I had succeeded, the war would have been won.” This is not an exaggeration. The unexpected British stand at Le Cateau disrupted the German advance enormously and bought critical time for Joffre to reorganise French forces and launch the all-important counterattack on the Marne. Furthermore, the BEF had been saved — at least in the short run.
Sir John French and Smith-Dorrien had not yet fallen out fully; that would come with further disappointments at the First and Second Battles of Ypres, where once again Smith-Dorrien disagreed with his commander’s tactics, which were patently failing on the modern battlefield. Smith-Dorrien was reluctant to throw away his soldiers’ lives in what he thought were fruitless and ill-conceived attacks. Not all the blame could be laid at French’s feet, as the author rightly points out: the shell crisis and lack of heavy artillery were real hindrances. But Sir John French failed to take these limitations into account. His frustration at his own failures led to his dismissal of Smith-Dorrien in April 1915 after the Battle of Aubers Ridge, when, after a poison gas attack, Smith-Dorrien advised that his forces should retreat to a stronger defensive line. Somewhat ironically, his replacement fully agreed with Smith-Dorrien and implemented the very suggestion he had made.
Smith-Dorrien was a convenient, if temporary, scapegoat for a failing commander. Unfortunately for him, Prime Minister Asquith had invested too much political capital in Sir John French. Although Asquith eventually dismissed French after the Battle of Loos, it was not long before Asquith himself was replaced due to his own failures as a war leader. The prime evidence for this was the shells scandal, unclear strategic direction, and lamentable leadership — not least that of Sir John French.
Sadly for Smith-Dorrien, he did not have much more of a military career, mainly due to illness. He was due to take command in Africa, but pneumonia almost killed him and his recovery was long. He would take on one more colonial role, as Governor of Gibraltar from 1918. There he was able to entertain with his wife and family, including two daughters he adopted after their parents had died. These were the children of Sir Arthur Power Palmer, his immediate predecessor as Commander-in-Chief of the Indian Army before the First World War — yet more evidence of Smith-Dorrien’s inherent decency.
It has been pointed out that the author of this book relies heavily on Smith-Dorrien’s memoirs and does not appear to have consulted his diaries, which give a fuller account and are held in the Imperial War Museum archives. Evidence for this is that the author wrongly states on p.338 that “[S-D’s] diary ceases to record the action on a day-to-day basis with effect from January 1915 because, as Sir Horace states, ‘it could only do so by treading on dangerous ground’.” In fact, it is only Smith-Dorrien’s memoirs that gloss over the period of his army command; his diary continues to record events day by day.
Despite these limitations, I found this book highly engaging. It tells the full story of someone who is generally known to the wider public only for his actions in 1914. It is fascinating to look at his earlier colonial and military career, where poor communications and vast distances often made independent command a necessity. Despite his reputation, he comes across as a team player and, unlike Sir John French, one who did not dabble in politics or seek to explain away his actions — at least until French made accusations in his own memoirs. Even then, Smith-Dorrien reacted correctly, working with the War Department to provide a confidential account of events, which was later used by the official historians and incorporated into the received accounts of the campaign.
History has been far kinder to Smith‑Dorrien than to Sir John French. It is a shame that the British government kept faith with soldiers like French rather than with more able men such as Smith‑Dorrien. Yet Smith‑Dorrien was, above all, a product of the British Empire. Almost all his military training was forged in colonial wars — and not merely against unarmed opponents. Fighting on the North West Frontier, but especially in the Boer War, exposed him to the technological changes that were transforming modern warfare. It is no exaggeration to say that the Boer War provided both the experience and the motivation for the radical reforms that generals like Smith‑Dorrien pressed upon the British Army, reforms that enabled it to withstand the German juggernaut in 1914. The author has done us a service by showing how his largely colonial apprenticeship prepared him for the immense challenges of the First World War.
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