![]() ![]() In the heat of battle, artillery units fired several hundred rounds an hour. But large projectiles did the most damage. As part of Operation Alberich, the German retreat to the Hindenburg Line ( Siegfried Stellung) in 1917, orders called for scorched earth tactics so that “the enemy should find a desert” in the army’s wake. Belgian troops flooded portions of the lowlands in the hopes of stalling the German advance during the Battle of Yser in 1914. Millions of soldiers and billions of shells transformed fields and forests within the relatively narrow war zone into a wasteland. Trenches ran from the North Sea to the Swiss frontier and the ensuing stalemate ensured ecological upheaval. Hostilities disrupted ecologies on battlefields everywhere, but nowhere was the concentration of forces so great as on the Western Front. To turn the peaks into functioning fortresses, engineers drilled and dug into the rock face to build army bases, set up electric stations, and establish high-altitude observation posts. Construction took place on an unprecedented scale. Meanwhile, the mobilization of armies in the Alps intensified industrialization on the heights with the vast expansion of roads, railways, and trails. Combatants further altered the land with better-built trenches and protective dams, changing water flows and redirecting the course of rivers. To prevent wholesale inundation, local civilians customarily piled heaps of loose dirt along the banks, but furious waters easily breached these earthworks. During the spring, snowmelt in the Caucasus Mountains and the highlands of Asia Minor swelled the rivers and lakes below, which burst their banks and turned lower Mesopotamia into a morass. Marshland and shallow ponds dotted the alluvial plains. What might surprise us, however, was that soldiers complained not about a lack of water but an overabundance. Given the arid environment, this seems obvious. The most pressing problem for men battling in Mesopotamia was not food, but water. By 1918, starving troops had butchered what animals remained. Royal hunting parties from Russia had culled the herds during the late 19 th century and by 1914 the number of bison had shrunk to around 400 head. Soldiers in the east dined on European bison, nearly exterminating a keystone species in the great boreal forest of Białowieża. Warfare accelerated environmental change that had begun in the previous century. Comparing the fate of the fighting fronts to timber harvesting around the world, tin mining in Malaysia, oil extraction in Mexico, and wheat farming in the United States and Canada reveals a far more complicated picture of the war’s environmental legacy than what photographs of No Man’s Land suggest.Īrmies altered ecosystems on every fighting front. Paradoxically, longer-term environmental transformations occurred behind the lines, away from the killing fields. Flora quickly recovered and fauna soon returned. But how appalling was this environment for those who had labored in mines, emptied brimming cesspools, bathed in polluted rivers, or slept in slums? Was the war’s onslaught against nature so different from what industrialization had wrought in the years leading up to 1914? How then should we measure the war’s ecological impact and define its “destruction” of the ecosystem? Examining environmental change across the globe shows that while battlegrounds endured the storms of steel, the resulting distortions of nature there were short-lived. ![]() The war’s impact on the land horrified university-educated soldiers groomed in the romantic appreciation for nature. Yet we must be careful with how we interpret contemporary descriptions of desolation. Scenes of utter devastation, ruined landscapes pitted and cracked with craters and trenches, quickly became a metaphor for the Great War’s waste. Familiar pictures of the Western Front tell the story. Nature bore the brunt of industrialized warfare. Yet only by taking the environment into account can we fully understand the trauma of the Great War and how this conflict shaped the most basic levels of human existence for years afterwards. Such is the paradox of the environment in times of war: nature is both omnipresent and invisible. History books typically regard the environment as the backdrop for battle or as collateral damage, if they consider the natural world at all. With ravaged farmlands, charred trees, and muddy quagmires as iconic images of the conflict, we have tended to take for granted the place and role of nature. While many contemporaries mourned the fate of blasted lands along the front lines, the natural world often remains a voiceless casualty of war in current scholarship. ![]()
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