The winning narrative of a war

If you haven't seen the movie Dunkirk, you should. It is a terrific film about a side story (irrelevant side story, if one is to be cruel, which I am not) of World War II. It tells viewers how the British Expeditionary Force — a pedestrian fighting formation in both World Wars — ran away from battle against Adolf Hitler’s armoured offensive in France. The British ran away efficiently, it is true as the film shows, but fleeing battle is hardly the stuff of bravery sagas.

It could be said that the British ran away to fight another day, but the fact is that they did not fight on another day or month or even another year. They sat most of the war out after fleeing, to be honest, and reentered it only when another country had done the job. This is also in keeping with modern British military history.

In the World War I, the BEF (once again operating from northern France) was noticeable, so far as I can remember, mostly in retreat till it hit stalemate and then later was rescued by the Americans. I am probably being unfair here, so I should add that many British soldiers fought bravely and fell and died, most famously at the Somme. Their Indian mercenaries, ever ready to fight for whoever has paid, fell with them also. But the British contributed little to the ultimate victory. It was the entry of the Americans, who came to the war in its final months, that ended the German offensive. 

The Europeans by then were tired of trench warfare. Britain especially, because it fancied itself as a marine power and not a land one, hated casualties. America had entered at the end and its armies were fresh and enthusiastic.

Legend tells of their arrival in Europe and in an early battle being told by their allies,the French, that it was time for a tactical retreat.

The response from Captain Lloyd Williams of the Marines was: “Retreat? Hell, we just got here.” This is sometimes recorded (and the Marine war cry also is): “Retreat, hell! We just got here.” I think mine sounds more appropriate.

At Dunkirk, in World War II, the call to retreat was sounded, and heeded. The British and French panicked after the lunatic German leader gambled Alexander-like on a reckless but successful thrust that split France in two.

A Royal Navy destroyer, crowded with evacuated British troops, mooring at Dover on 31 May, 1940. Photo: Wikimedia Commons/Imperial War Museums

For a year before that, after having declared war on Hitler, Britain and France did nothing (this period is called the “Phoney War”). After fleeing also, not much fighting came from the British. Churchill regretted he had no generals who could fight and wanted to fight. But fortunately, the English had authors and comic book writers who would later win the war for them in fiction.

Some Indians will complain about how racist Hollywood ignores the sacrifice and contribution of the non-white races. The truth is, that all contributions in that war were irrelevant before those made by Stalin’s Russia.

Consider these two facts: 95 per cent of all those who died in the World War II — 27 million women, children and men — were citizens of the Soviet Union. And 90 per cent of all German soldiers who died — four million men — were killed by the Russians. These facts are not disputed. Indeed, I know them because I read British historians who write in English, not Russian. 

It is in light of this that we must assess the meaning and importance of the evacuation of some 300,000 soldiers at Dunkirk. It was a sideshow, inflated by Hollywood and the English-speaking world. 

The other thing to consider is that after having left, the British returned in force only in mid-1944. After the decisive battles of Stalingrad, Leningrad, Kursk and Moscow, where the Wehrmacht was defeated by Russian soldiers.

Dunkirk’s narrative is that plucky Englishmen regrouped and came back to defeat Hitler. Not true. The job was already done by them. That most Englishmen will still believe that they were instrumental shows us the triumph of propaganda over reality. I was not surprised to see Kenneth Branagh, who plays a senior British officer in Dunkirk being interviewed on a late night show, and being applauded loudly for repeating the canard of British soldiers defeating Germany.

Why is it that we hear so much about Churchill’s defiance and the Blitz and the Battle of the Bulge, even though they were minor skirmishes compared with the gigantic battles fought between Hitler and Stalin? Because the Americans were involved on the western front, landing with the British in Normandy in 1944, as the war entered its final stages. For most of the war, the Americans fought naval battles in the Pacific and Asia. 

They were absent from continental Europe where most of the blood was drawn and shed. Their contribution was to defeat Japan — which again made a sorry mess of the English and their Indian mercenaries — while Russia defeated Germany. 

But Americans write history and particularly popular history. That is why few have heard of the victorious generals who beat the Wehrmacht, like Zhukov and Stalingrad's ruthless defender Chuikov, but many know the names Montgomery and Patton.

As a movie, Dunkirk is terrific: beautifully shot, great sound and, mercifully, underplaying the role of the individual hero. As history it continues the propaganda of the West. It masks the great victory the Russians achieved over Germany, and insists on according to Britain an importance wholly disproportionate to its real contributions.