100 Years of of Armored Warfare

Today is the 100th anniversary of the first tank assault, at the battle of the Somme in France.

Try to imagine yourself as a German soldier in the trenches. You're exhausted, miserable, scared, cold, wet, and demoralized because the war has been stalemated for so long, and because of the enormous death toll on both sides. You're carrying a bolt-action rifle, and the new invention, the machine-gun, is the terrifying reason you're bogged down in these trenches. You grew up in a world of horses, carriages, woodstoves, and gas lights. Electricity and motor vehicles are novelties of the wealthy; your milk back home is still delivered by a horse and cart, the fields are plowed by horse-drawn plows, and both armies still have horse-mounted cavalry (although they've been rendered ineffective by machineguns and modern artillery). You may have seen a tractor once or twice in your life.

Then, early in the morning, after a heavy artillery barrage, you see rolling toward you with a deafening thunder of huge engines and the squeak and clank of steel tracks, thirty-two of these monstrosities:




You've never heard of, or imagined such a thing. Their development has been kept a total secret by the British government until this moment (in fact, that's why we still call them 'tanks' to this day: Tank was a code-name assigned to hide what they were really doing, making it seem like they were working on some kind of water-storage system. The original, official name was "land ships" and they were part of the Royal Navy).

My respects, both to the very first brave tankers who hazarded the inside of these experimental rolling beasts, filled with exhaust fumes, burning cordite, and deafening noise, and trying to do their duty while being thrown about the hard steel compartment by the movement of the vehicle over rough terrain, and to the infantrymen on the ground who had to face them.