World War One Centenary : Continuations and Beginnings (University of Oxford / JISC)
Adventure and Proving Patriotism in the American Expeditionary
Forces
by Scott Keefer
2016-12-05 14:04:56
Corporal Pisciotta's Story
The United States watched World War I from afar from 1914 until 1917. President Woodrow Wilson was reelected in 1916 on a platform of having kept the country out of war. The federal government was concerned
about losing the support of "hyphenated Americans," the immigrants and children of immigrants whom many
feared would hold traitorous beliefs.
Congressman Fiorello Laguardia, the future mayor of New York City and a hero to the many Italian-Americans
who resided there, resigned his position in Congress to join the American Expeditionary Forces to show that a
man who put his constituents into the war was willing to go as well. It was a show of solidarity with the armed
forces and in part a way to show that Italian-Americans could be just as patriotic as un-hyphenated Americans.
[i.] This was something that motivated Sicilian-born, Brooklyn-raised Alex Pisciotta to join the Army at age 20
in 1917, which set him on course to serve in France at the close of World War I.
After training at Fort Jay on Governor's Island and at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn, Corp. Pisciotta and the 70th
Artillery Regiment travelled on the U.S.S. Manchuria out of Hoboken for France. Although Corp. Pisciotta and
his regiment never saw the front, they like many of their compatriots, got the sense of adventure in the military
that the nation's first overseas war offered.
Corp. Pisciotta carried a camera and documented his life in the army, dutifully sending them to his mother and
sister. The photographs document the army life in France of the 70th in training and in Northwest France.
Through planning or pure serendipity, hints of his locations slipped past the censors, and his path from St.
Nazaire to Angers is traceable.
Pisciotta primarily talks about his homesickness in his letters. Having lived with his family on DeKalb Avenue
in Brooklyn until his departure for the Army, his experience was that of the urban first-generation American. He
contrasts this with the lives in French villages:
"People in New York don't appreciate how fortunate they are with their gas stoves and coal stoves. Here the
folks have to do all their cooking by burning small twigs and branches under a big pot in an old time fire-place.
I sat for a long while the other day watching the madame where I live, boiling some water with the small flame
of the burning twigs. Pretty hard job, and also tiresome, the house getting all full of smoke."
In Angers, Pisciotta befriended General La Calle, who invited him to his Chateau. According to Pisciotta, this
was based upon his ability to "parlez Franaise," and his connections with a few other corporals. The General had
been a high-ranking official in the Franco-Prussian, but had retired by the time of the Great War. Due to military
regulations, Pisciotta was never allowed to give his actual locations, and the military screened letters and
photographs from revealing anything that might provide information to the enemy. However, Pisciotta's
photographs and descriptions pin his location to the Chateau d'Angers, built by the Dukes of Anjou in the mid1200s. He gave a hint that slipped past the censors when he described:
"A large ancient tapestry of about the 12th century covered one side of the wall, while historical cabinets and of
chairs, which he claimed belonged at one time to some royal family at the time of the French Revolution were
lined up along the side."
Pisciotta was giving his description of the Apocalypse Tapestry, located at d'Angers.[ii.] Among his other
leisure activities in the city were the cafs that remained open through the war, and theatre shows which he
attended with specially priced tickets for the military. Pisciotta made a habit of sending the ticket stubs back as
well.
Pisciotta appears to defy the common idea of history and the mass disillusionment that came with the war.
Indeed, the majority of American troops who made it to France did not see combat.[iii.] This devastated some
soldiers, who had been brought up with the idea that it took combat to make a man, and some faced some
amount of guilt or shame when they never faced the enemy.[iv.] Pisciotta was not one of these soldiers, and
many of his letters home, particularly after November 11, 1918, express mere boredom with the regimentation
of army life. He was grateful that he did not have to see combat, and was happy to return home to his family and
to his fianc Mae McIntyre, whom he frequently mentioned in his letters.
After the war, Pisciotta and Mae were married and had five children. Alex achieved a great many things in his
life: earning a law degree, becoming a U.S. prosecutor, serving in Fiorello Laguardia's government, serving as a
military lawyer during the Second World War, and becoming the first mayor of the Village of Lake Grove.
After he passed away in 1985, his family donated his papers to the Center for Migration Studies of New York
(CMS), a think-tank and advocacy group run by the Scalabrinians. This organization contains a large archive of
immigration to the United States, with a particular focus on Italian immigration. For more information about
this collection and CMS, please see http://cmsny.org/cms-archive/.
References
i. LaGuardia, Fiorello H. The Making of an Insurgent: An Autogiography: 1882-1919 (Philadelphia: J. B.
Lippincott Company, 1948). p. 160.
ii. Centre des Monuments Nationaux. "Chteau d'Angers." Last modified 2016. http://www.chateau-angers.fr/en/.
iii. Kennedy, David M. Over Here: The First World War and American Society. New York: Oxford University
Press, 1980. p. 205.
iv. Rubin, Richard. The Last of the Doughboys: The Forgotten Generation and Their Forgotten World War
(Mariner: Houghton Books, 2013).
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New Perspectives on War Time Experience and Remembrance this
Armistice Day
by Sarah Wilkin
2016-11-11 11:15:17
As part of the University of Oxford's World War One Centenary programme,
TORCH
teamed up with Academic IT Services to launch a WW1 Research competition.
We welcomed proposals from students and early career researchers, from any discipline at the University, to
present new perspectives on the War and its impact through either a blog post or short (audio/video) podcast.
We also welcomed proposals from college, library and museum staff that tell a story of the University in WW1.
We supported selected entries to develop their digital content which would then be featured on some of the
University's global channels, including Oxford iTunesUandPodcasts.ox.ac.uk
The entries were judged by a panel of specialists on the First World War and public engagement, and the lucky
winner has gained the exciting opportunity to network with experts at the upcoming 2016 International Society
for First World War Studies conference.
We are delighted to announce the results below and share the excellent contributions submitted- free for you to
use in your research or teaching:
1st place:?Remembering before the End: Death and the Great War?' a podcast by Alice Kelly
Runner up:?A Wordly War: Battle Experiences through the Eyes of African Cultures?' a podcast by Josephine
Niala
Other notable entries:
?Mancunian Crusaders??' a podcast by Daniel Smith
?Somerville Hospital: Then and Now?' a blog post by Anne Manuel and Sarah Hughes, Somerville College
?Weapons of Mass Persuasion: The First World War in Posters?- a blog post by Nina Kruglikova
?Decomposing: Debussy and the Trauma Process?' a blog post by Rebecca Henderson
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Decomposing: Debussy and the Trauma Process
by Rebecca Henderson
2016-11-11 11:08:23
By considering how artists are influenced by, and become influencers of, cultural trauma, and the role of this
in national identity, we can understand how the impact of World War One affects our sense of self today.
*****
The year was 1914. Living in a fashionable, elegant neighbourhood near Bois de Bologne, Claude Debussy had
little on his mind beyond his growing debts.
Then the war began. Everything changed.
Debussy's friends and family become increasingly politically involved. Huge numbers of wounded began to
return, the landscape became physically mutilated through trench warfare, and no end was in sight. France, and
Debussy's national identity, was under very real threat.
In Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity,Jeffrey Alexander states that:
?Cultural trauma occurs when members of a collectivity feel they have been subjected to a horrendous event
that leaves indelible marks on their group consciousness, marking their memories forever and changing their
future identity in fundamental and irrevocable ways.?
World War One epitomises 'a horrendous event?: entire families were wiped out, a large portion of young men
were killed or injured, and civilians grieved. The translation of this trauma from event to art to cultural narrative
is what Jeffrey Alexander calls 'the trauma process?, and its stages can be traced through Debussy's
compositions between 1914 and his death.
Step 1: Symbolic Representation
Debussy was not a natural patriot, declaring once that he never 'had occasion to handle a gun.' But after being
confronted daily by newspaper reports of 'the Hun's atrocities?, his attitude changed. His first work from this
period appeared in November 1914, in King Albert's Book: A Tribute to the Belgian King and People from
Representative Men and Women Throughout the World.The Book was aimed to increase the Allies' support, and
Debussy was one of the few composers featured. He contributed a short piano piece, Berceuse hroque.
Psychoanalytic descriptions of trauma generally agree that one response to trauma is to 'displace' it into another
form, such as art; Debussy does this exactly. The misery of feeling powerless in events, combined with
everyday unhappy shortages of necessities, is expressed in Berceuse hroque. Debussy acknowledges this
himself, describing his piece as 'melancholy and discreet' with no pretensions other than to offer homage to so
much patient suffering.' Thus Debussy's music claims to be symbolically representing the mood of the civilian
population, with himself as spokesperson.
Two photographs showing daily life in Paris during World War One. On the left, a queue for a caf snakes
around several streets. On the right, high prices for basic necessities. Copyright British Library.
Step 2: Actor in the Public Sphere
Berceusewas followed by two similar pieces: Page d?album and Elgie.With these, Debussy increasingly used
his music to raise awareness of the effects of war, but also to try and alleviate them. Page,composed June 1915,
was played as part of a concert series aiming to raise money for helping the wounded; Elgie was published six
months later in Pages indites sur la femme et la guerre, a book whose profits were intended for war orphans.
His reputation continued to grow, and he became particularly regarded as a French composer writing about, and
for, the French people: he became an actor, accepting and adopting this patriotic persona, even signing himself
later as 'Claude Debussy, musicien franais'. One side effect of his growing renown was becoming a carrier:
Debussy's work may have helped certain individuals but in fact it served to increase cultural trauma by drawing
attention in the public sphere repeatedly to its extent.
Step 3: Public and Context
As the war dragged on, the public mood became more and more despairing. The contextof Debussy's work
changed: instead of composing for funds in support of the war effort, his compositions became more
philosophical about the point of war itself. HisNol des enfants qui n?ont plus des maisons(Christmas for
Homeless Children) exemplifies this. The lyrics are a prayer from homeless, orphaned French children, calling
for Christ to punish German soldiers. They ask for the invaders to not be visited that coming Christmas (in fact,
to 'jamais plus?, never again, be visited), and they beg for bread instead of toys as gifts. The orphans symbolise
the loss of social and familial structure brought on by war: they have no history as previous generations are
erased, and their very survival is uncertain as they do not even have 'pain quotidienne?, daily bread.
Furthermore, Nolshows Debussy's idea of audience changing as well. He writes to God, suggesting no more
faith in earthly, political powers to resolve the conflict, and he also writes to the future, for posterity. Debussy
confided to a friend that he wrote 'not so much for myself, [but] to offer proof, small as it may be, that 30
million Boches can ot destroy French thought . . . I think of the youth of France, senselessly mowed down by
those merchants of 'Kultur' . . . What I am writing will be a secret homage to them.?
What happens now?
Returning to Jeffrey Alexander's definition of cultural trauma, he stated that Cultural Trauma must 'mark their
memories forever and change their future identity in fundamental and irrevocable ways.' Debussy died
before the end of the war, but his works lived on. They became part of a larger artistic movement which
established a new cultural narrative, one which began with World War One. 1914 became 'marked forever' as
the beginning of a period of pain and misery to France.
Debussy's works would go onto take a special role during World War Two, claimed by the Resistance as
representing the cultural prowess of the French, and he, amongst others, became a locus for a new French
identity which emphasised national pride and a staunch unbreakable resistance to invasion ' an identity which
endures to this day.
REFERENCES
Jeffrey Alexander. Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity(California, US: University of California Press
Books, 2004)
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Family Mourning and the First World War
by Ann-Marie Foster
2016-09-06 15:30:58
Public institutions are increasingly using personal stories from the First World War to provide an empathetic
and personal access point to what could otherwise be an overwhelming conflict. Often, although not always,
these tales include ones of profound loss; a last letter home displayed alongside details of the author's death.
While these stories illustrate the pathos of war, it is only recently that investigations into what these items have
meant to families over time have begun.
During the conflict and in the immediate aftermath people mourned. Many people instinctively sought to
remember their personal losses in as traditional a way as possible. Immediately upon the death of a soldier,
comrades wrote letters to grieving parents, offering an epistolary comfort that would have been physically
relayed to the bereaved at a funeral. Families continued to print obituaries in local newspapers, some yearly
upon the anniversary of their loved one's death. Printed 'In Memoriam' cards with biblical verses and portraits of
the deceased were produced as a memento to send to friends and family.
When Next of Kin Memorial Plaques were released by the government in 1919 they were often framed and
hung on a wall, sometimes with the accompanying scroll. Commercial frames were produced to house them but
many families created a way of hanging or preserving the plaque themselves. For example, some made
embroidered bags, homemade frames, and even soldered chains to the back of their plaque to hang it on a wall.
Each soldier automatically received both a Victory and a Defence medal for having fought and these too were
sometimes included in the memorial tableaux being created in the home. Cards that were sent home might be
framed, and portraits of men, often in military uniform, were hung above mantelpieces and in hallways.
Personal items, sent home by the War Office, might be kept in a secure place and used as an additional way to
help remember a loved one.
These printed memorials, official and unofficial items, were in some cases passed down through the family line,
in other cases donated to museums, or were sometimes discarded in a move or upon the death of the one who
kept them.
The centenary of the First World War is a time where families can look back: do they have a relative who
fought in the war' Did they survive' The centenary has allowed us to pause and reflect on what we know, and
what we still need to record for future generations.
In light of this, several initiatives have formed to try and document family stories before they fade away.
Projects such as the Great War Archive and Europeana 1914-1918 have conducted 'Antiques Roadshow' type
events where people bring their family items and have them digitised for others to learn from. For those unable
to attend in person, there are now several online platforms where one can share their family story, such as the
Imperial War Museum's Lives of the First World War website.
The amount of information that family members know about their ancestor's life is highly variable. Sometimes
they retain a very clear vision of their ancestors and can discuss at great length their significance to the family.
They know how their memorial items have moved house, when, with whom, and to where. Often, although
certainly not always, what is passed down between the generations are a couple of items, alongside an anecdote
or two. Others know almost nothing and some only know that a family member participated in the conflict.
Some prefer to share their stories within local communities instead of globally. In communities across the
country, with the recent resurgence of interest in the war among local history groups and the support provided
by the Heritage Lottery Fund, more people than ever are aware of their military forbearers. Some groups
provide what could be considered a 'family military history service' and research names on a local war
memorial, sharing what they find with the living relatives of the deceased and allowing the family (if they so
desire) to create a new memory of them, one complicated by the common perception of the war that has been
built over the last hundred years.
At a time when many families are visible because of their contributions to these remembrance initiatives it is
worth briefly noting that not everybody wants to share their story. Many families see their history as highly
personal and so do not share their tales.
People choose to remember in whichever way best suits them and their family: globally, locally, privately, or a
mixture of the three. Because it is such a personal matter people react differently to it. As a result of this there
are a lot of ways of remembering family members from the First World War. As we look to the future, family
memory is currently changing again in reaction to the centenary and the public press it has received. Memorials
are being dug out of cupboards and half-forgotten stories re-emerging. People are re-remembering. The family
is here to stay.
The image above shows aNext of Kin memorial plaque sent to the mother of William Hugh Owen(s), which
wasframed and polished by her every day. The plaques were designed to dull over time, representing the
quieting of grief, but some ritualised the cleaning of the plaques as a personal memorial act to the deceased. It
can be found inthe Great War Archive.
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Original version
Street names: the local, national and international memory of the
First World War
by Ross Wilson
2016-09-05 08:30:01
Memorials and monuments to the First World War are a familiar part of the urban landscape in former
combatant countries but across the cities, towns and villages there is another element of remembrance which
sometimes goes unnoticed: street names. In Australia, Belgium, Britain, Canada, France, Germany and the
United States, there are avenues and boulevards which have been given the names of battles, politicians,
Generals and individual soldiers. Some of these places have, through the passage of time, been forgotten.
However, these names bear testimony to the way in which individuals, groups and societies during the war and
in its aftermath sought to remember the war.
The naming of streets, plazas, squares and stations after military heroes or famous victories has been a feature of
the modern world. With the rise of nation states, the valorization of martial achievement through monument
building or naming served as a key part in cementing a cultural and political identity for the populace. Indeed,
the history of the nineteenth century can be read through the names that were given to the public places across
Europe and North America.
This process was continued with the outbreak of the First World War in August 1914 and was used to mark the
cessation of hostilities after November 1918. In the decades that followed, the names associated with the war
have been neglected, forgotten of perhaps conjured up such images of waste, pity and disillusionment that this
significant local, national and international history and legacy of the conflict has been overlooked. By
connecting this geography of remembrance we can consider how the war altered people and places around the
world.
One of the first reported sites of street naming was the Canadian city of Montreal. In late 1914 it was already
reported that plans were set in place to rename avenues after the heroic figures and places of the conflict:
Joffre
French
Leman
Pau
Antwerp
Poincare
The names reflected the alliance between the British Empire and France as well as served as a patriotic appeal to
the metropolis whose linguistic and cultural divisions had historically been a source of tension. In Britain, the
outbreak of the war caused some street names to change as the names of German places and people were written
out of the urban landscape as an act jingoism:
There are numerous cases in the Metropolitan area of sturdy patriotic British citizens having to live under
German direction, so to speak, and the residents of thoroughfares with such pronouncedly Teutonic names as
Bismarck, Wiesbaden, Gothenburg, Berlin, Stuttgart, and so on, naturally resent the objectionable
denominations.[i]
A similar process occurred in France, where in 1914 it was stated that in Romilly-sur-Seine had been granted
permission to alter the name of the Avenue D?Allemagne and Rue de Berlin to Jean Jaurs and Rue de Lige
respectively. The former commemorated the socialist leader assassinated a few months earlier who opposed the
war but whose death led to domestic political truce within France, L?union sacre.
In Aberdeen, reports in 1914 that residents voted against changing German names of streets to honour wartime
heroes and victims raised comment in the local paper.[ii] In Hull, angry councillors expressed their
dissatisfaction that the town still had German street names whilst the nation was at war. However, the meeting
was calmed down when it was explained that the street names, Stynberg Street and Rustenberg Street, referred
to the South African Wars and thus were more Dutch than German.[iii]
As the street names of the country could reflect hundreds of years of settlement, the initial enthusiasm for
altering street names began to dwindle. However, as the conflict progressed, local councils in Britain considered
petitions to name new developments or existing infrastructure in sympathy or solidarity with those who had
sacrificed. For example, during a local group meeting in the midland town of Walsall in 1915 suggestions were
heard over the naming of a new road as frustration were voiced as to how the nation was responding to the
crisis:
??we were engaged in such a terrible war, that there were 600 funerals our own kith and kin every day, they
might have thought of giving the street the name of 'Jellicoe Road?, or, in complement to our gallant French
Allies and our own gallant soldiers, why not 'Marne Avenue???[iv]
By the close of the war, the desire to remove all German street names was no longer present. This issue of street
naming was raised in Parliament in early November 1918. In his response to questions suggesting legislation
should be enacted to change all street names with any German associations, the Leader of the House, Andrew
Bonar Law (1858-1923) pithily replied: 'We are engaged, I think, in matters more important?.[v]
However, in the aftermath of the conflict, around the world, the names of the battles, generals and soldiers of the
war began to be commemorated. With the promise to build more homes in Britain after the war, there was
plenty of opportunity for an 'Arras Avenue, Ypres Street, Foch Road, Haig Place, Plumer Terrace'.[vi] In the
United States, from major cities to small towns, the war was commemorated in street names. As such, in
Alexandria, Louisiana, an Argonne Boulevard adjoins a Versailles Boulevard. In Norfolk, Virginia, an Argonne
Avenue is parallel to a Verdun Avenue and a Marne Avenue.
Whilst in New York, Pershing Square next to Grand Central Station which was named in 1919, is one of many
sites in the nation that are named after General John J. Pershing (1860-1948). In Canada, new avenues and old
streets were given the name of Vimy whilst the grand but unrealized replanning of Toronto in 1929 was given
the title 'Vimy Circle'. In Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, Gallipoli, Somme and Delville are attached
to roads and streets.
In Regensburg, Germany, there is a Verdunstrae, a Sommestrae, an Arrasstrae, an Erbprinz-Franz-Joseph-Strae
and a Prinz-Rupprecht-Strae. In Lige, Belgium, the war is commemorated with a Rue Joffre. In France,
Strasbourg has a Rue d?Ypres, a Rue del?Yser, a Rue de Saint-Quentin, a Rue d?Arras and a Boulevard de la
Marne.
In the naming of streets, the grand ideals met the humble acts of remembrance. Whilst national and local
authorities suggested names of Generals and battles, individuals and communities requested more personal
associations. Across New York, streets were named for soldiers of the United States Army. Henshaw Street,
Staff Street, Daniels Street and Dyckman Street in Inwood, Manhattan, were renamed after soldiers from that
area. The Manhattan approach to Washington Bridge was renamed McNally Square, after a soldier and son of a
policeman of the city who had died in France. Similarly, in West Harlem, a single block from 126th Street from
old Manhattan Street to Claremont Avenue was named Moylan Place after Private William Moylan, 42nd
Division, who died in 1918 and was buried in France.
By the late 1920s, attitudes to the war had begun to shift and the spate of street naming had begun to reduce.
The war had taken on a less victorious air as the realities of the post-war world ensured that the war was looked
upon with a sense of tragedy. This can be seen in the case of Hull, where residents apparently petitioned the
local authority to have Kemmel Avenue renamed.
In the petition, those who lived in the street stated that they wished to forget the war, despite the presence of
Aisne, Mons and Marne Streets nearby:
The years are gradually putting a space between us and the Great War, but the memory lingers sadly over the
men who fell there, and many British troops were lost at Kemmel?[vii]
The naming of streets enabled groups to feel connected to the war as the battles were ongoing and to honour the
service and sacrifice of the dead in the immediate aftermath. Whilst names may have been chosen by
governments and officials there are accounts of individual and personal acts of remembrance. In Chichester, a
builder who oversaw the development of new housing in the 1930s was said to have named the street 'Cambrai
Avenue' after a brother who was killed in the battle.
Street names connect us to the local, national and international history of the war and remind us how the war
altered the lives of individuals across the world. There are more names and associations to find in this history
and it offers us the chance to connect to places both near and far whose names all recall the First World War.
[i] Streets with German Names, Leeds Mercury, November 11 1915
[ii] War on Teutonic Street Names, Aberdeen Journal, December 15 1914
[iii] Hull Street Names, Hull Daily Mail, October 20 1916
[iv] Why not Marne Avenue' Walsall Observer, and South Staffordshire Chronicle, July 24 1915.
[v] Street Names (German). House of Commons Debate, 5 November 1918, vol.110 c1922.
[vi] German Street Names in Leeds. Yorkshire Evening Post, April 1 1919
[vii] Keeping the war out of street names, Yorkshire Evening Post, April 30 1926
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