Conscription and Democracy: The Draft in France, Great Britain, and the United States (Contributions in Military Studies)

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY: The Draft in France, Great Britain, and the United States GEORGE Q. FLYNN GREENWOOD PRESS ...

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CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY: The Draft in France, Great Britain, and the United States

GEORGE Q. FLYNN

GREENWOOD PRESS

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY

Recent Titles in Contributions in Military Studies Great Captains of Antiquity Richard A. Gabriel Doctrine Under Trial: American Artillery Employment in World War I Mark E. Grotelueschen Ordered to Die: A History of the Ottoman Army in the First World War Edward J. Erickson Surgeons at War: Medical Arrangements for the Treatment of the Sick and Wounded in the British Army during the late 18th and 19th Centuries Matthew H. Kaufman Soviet Military Assistance: An Empirical Perspective William H. Mott IV The Battle of Ap Bac, Vietnam: They Did Everything but Learn from It David M. Toczek The Emperor’s Friend: Marshal Jean Lannes Margaret Scott Chrisawn An Uncertain Trumpet: The Evolution of U.S. Army Infantry Doctrine, 1919–1941 Kenneth Finlayson Death Waits in the “Dark”: The Senoi Praaq, Malaysia’s Killer Elite Roy Davis Linville Jumper War Wings: The United States and Chinese Military Aviation, 1929–1949 Guangqiu Xu A Navy Second to None: The History of U.S. Naval Training in World War I Michael D. Besch Home by Christmas: The Illusion of Victory in 1944 Ronald Andidora

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY The Draft in France, Great Britain, and the United States GEORGE Q. FLYNN

Contributions in Military Studies, Number 210

GREENWOOD PRESS Westport, Connecticut • London

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Flynn, George Q. Conscription and democracy : The draft in France, Great Britain, and the United States / George Q. Flynn. p. cm.—(Contributions in military studies, ISSN 0883–6884 ; no. 210) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–313–31912–X (alk. paper) 1. Draft—France—History—20th century. 2. Draft—Great Britain—History—20th century. 3. Draft—United States—History—20th century. I. Title. II. Series. UB345.F8F58 2002 355.2'2363'0904—dc21 2001023314 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright 2002 by George Q. Flynn All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2001023314 ISBN: 0–313–31912–X ISSN: 0883–6884 First published in 2002 Greenwood Press, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. www.greenwood.com Printed in the United States of America TM

The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48–1984). 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For My Students

Contents Acknowledgments

ix

1.

Introduction

1

2.

The Road to World War I

9

3.

Conscription and War

25

4.

1920 to 1945

43

5.

Limited Wars

65

6.

Operating the System

85

7.

Deferring the Elite

113

8.

Fit to Fight

141

9.

Conscription and the Economy

161

10.

Conscience and the Draft

189

11.

The Politics of Conscription

215

12.

Evaluation and Conclusions

247

Selected Bibliography

265

Index

285

Acknowledgments Even in an age of computers and the Internet, this study required the ﬂeshand-blood assistance of many friends and associates. As an American historian working in comparative national history, I found such assistance indispensable. At my home base in Texas, I received assistance in the location and use of sources from my French scholar friends Judy Rainger, James Brink, and David Troyansky of Texas Tech and Al Hamsher of Kansas State University. My French tutors, Veronique Biguet, Gae¨lle Hotellier, and Francis Muguet, worked hard to upgrade my language skill. In France I was assisted materially by Martin and Genevieve Blumenson, Franc¸oise Charvet, Madam Petri-Legal at Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es (SIRPA), Professor Bernard Boe¨ne of SaintCyr, Lt. Sisiak of Compie`gne, Pierre Dabezies of the Fondation pour les E´tudes de De´fense Nationale (FEDN), and Bernard Son of the Military Archives at Chaˆteau de Vincennes. Francis Muguet and his mother Christine made my stay in France a memorable experience by accepting me into their family. In England my work advanced smoothly, thanks to the hospitality of Finula and John Pepper and the ofﬁcials at London House. Tim Gee, Mr. and Mrs. George Donnelly, and Jane Bretherton were generous with their time and information. On a professional level the work could not have been completed without the cooperation of my fellow student of conscription at Rutgers, Professor John Whitealay Chambers II. I wish to thank the Historical Institute at that university for an opportunity to present some of my ideas. At Texas Tech, Amy Chang, Carol Roberts, Jim Niessen, and their fellow librarians ranged across the world in ﬁlling my requests for materials. For my skill on the

x

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

computer and the Internet I owe a debt to my son, Sean Q. Flynn of New York, and Richard Fisher and David Coons of Texas Tech. Maria Magolske of Loyola University provided essential editorial assistance. I also wish to thank the professional staffs at the many archives I visited. In the United States: Margaret Melun at the Library of Congress; the staff at the National Archives; and the staffs at the Harry Truman, Franklin Roosevelt, John Kennedy, Richard Nixon, and Lyndon Johnson Presidential Libraries. In France: the staffs at the Military Archives at the Chaˆteau de Vincennes, SIRPA of Paris, the Direction Centrale du Service National at Compie`gne, and L’Institut des Hautes E´tudes de De´fense Nationale in Paris. In Britain: the staffs at the Public Record Ofﬁce at Kew, the British Museum Library, the B. H. Liddell-Hart Archives at King’s College, London, the Winston Churchill Archives at Churchill College, Cambridge. The material assistance provided by grants from the Fulbright Foundation and Texas Tech University were indispensable. The translations are my own unless speciﬁed in the notes.

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY

Chapter 1

Introduction And besides, soon there won’t be any army. We shall all be in it, from the age of seven to sixty—in what come to think of it? The word “army” means nothing when entire nations are hurling themselves against each other. —Georges Bernanos, Diary of a Country Priest

When George Bernanos wrote these words in 1936 the 20th century had already seen mass armies at war on an unprecedented scale. Millions of men and women died in World War I and II, thousands of towns and villages lay in ruins, and entire societies and cultures were dislocated. Science and technology played a role in unleashing this new destructive warfare, but just as important, as Bernanos implies, was the militarization of entire nations, the mobilizing of society, and the creation of mass armies. Such armies required the adoption of compulsory military service, conscription or the draft, as it was called in the United States. Mobilizing manpower for war has always been more difﬁcult in a democracy than in a dictatorship. Russell Weigley, the American military historian, writes of the United States: “The historic preoccupation of the Army’s thought in peacetime has been the manpower question: how, in an unmilitary nation, to muster adequate numbers of capable soldiers quickly should war occur.”1 When the nature of modern warfare made an all-volunteer army inadequate, the major Western democracies (France, Great Britain, and the United States) confronted the dilemma of involuntary military service in a free society. Studying the methods by which each of these nations solved the problem, why some solutions were more lasting and effective than oth-

2

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY

ers, can provide insights into the evolution of the democratic polity and values in each society in this century. Great Britain, France, and the United States represent the largest Western democracies that engaged in world wars and colonial wars in the 20th century. These three societies rested upon similar democratic principles and respect for individual rights. Additionally, these three states shared a similar but not identical diplomatic outlook in the 20th century. They were allies in the world wars and constituted the “Free World,” united against the forces of militarism, fascism, and communism. Finally, these democratic states also confronted the problem of using conscripts to defend colonial interest in an age of decolonization. Although these three states seem ﬁtting candidates for a comparative history of conscription, several difﬁculties emerge. First and foremost is the methodological morass presented by comparative history itself. Entire forests have been sacriﬁced to debates between those who stress a comparison of structure and those who stress a comparison of culture, between those who emphasize the nation-state unit and those who claim such a unit is too large, between those who focus upon social forces and those who study individuals. Needless to say, no consensus has emerged. According to George Fredrickson, an American historian, a successful comparative study “does justice to culture and ideology as well as structure, draws attention to the most signiﬁcant causal variables, and shows the peculiarities of each case without making one of them the exception to a general pattern represented by the others.”2 The present author has adopted this statement as a goal. Although the nation-state represents the basic unit of study, much focus is upon the institution of the armed forces within each nation. This presents the problem of arguing that the military institution is an effective representative of the culture, ideology, and structure of the larger nation. As Maurice Faivre argues, the nation’s army has for its purpose to involve the human material, intellectual, and moral resources of the country in defense. This institution functions within the political and cultural body of the society. The national (conscript) army is a system in which most of the cultural and ideological elements of the country are combined.3 I propose to focus upon how the armed forces in these three nations went about the arduous and politically controversial task of ﬁlling the ranks with civilians, who in most cases preferred to be elsewhere. Few readers need convincing about the cultural, ideological, and structural differences between these three nations. Likewise, there are few arguments about the many similarities. Both differences and similarities are treated in a historical framework. I propose to identify how each nation created and operated conscription within a particular historical context, generally the period from 1914 to the end of the Cold War. Although the three nations fought as allies in the two world wars of the century and one

INTRODUCTION

3

police action (Korea), they also found themselves at odds, although not enemies, in several colonial conﬂicts (Suez, Vietnam). Such contexts make for a rich tapestry in which to view the institution of compulsory military service. Before considering conscription itself we must note rather important differences within the three systems on fundamentals. The ﬁrst difference is the attitude toward the very concept of military service itself. While it is true that all citizens revealed reluctance toward such duty, there is also a basic division between the Anglo-Saxon concept of military service, shared by the United States and Britain, and the continental or French idea. The French idea of military service is based upon several notions at odds with American and British experience. Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote in 1772 that the defense was only guaranteed by a state in “which it was the duty of every citizen to serve as a soldier.” The French Rights of Man stipulated obligations of service while neglecting protection of individual rights. Since the new Republic was indivisible, the nation and the army had to be one. Out of this theory came the concept of “the nation in arms,” which served the French well during the revolutionary wars. Although the “loi Jourdan” of 7 September 1798 was an ad hoc solution to the crisis of military manpower, the system became incorporated into the deﬁnition of the French state. This arrangement was not the same as modern conscription, but such service was important.4 In the French national experience military service played multiple roles. Scholars of 19th-century France have established that military service represented a means by which the state sought to create a sense of national identity. While the notion of service as a passage into citizenship came slowly, it seems to have been in place by 1814. Throughout the 19th century such service acted to break down localism, promote a common language, and integrate individuals with the state. This Franco-Roman or continental tradition saw no conﬂict between compulsory military service and liberty.5 In the Anglo-Saxon tradition, reﬂected by Britain and the United States, military service was viewed less as a part of citizenship and more as a burden imposed by the government. Operating under a heritage that stressed minimal government interference with individual choice, these cultures were able to sell military service only as a matter of national defense in an emergency. The contrast to the French idea seems so strong that one British scholar writes: “[I]t is doubtful whether any valid comparison can be drawn between the French system of military service . . . and our own. We look at the problem from completely different standpoints, based on our history, our traditions, on our mental attitudes and on our basic organization.”6 Americans, as the British, viewed military service as a state imposition. From the beginning, with a Continental Army copied from the British for-

4

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY

mat of professional volunteers, Americans considered military service from a parochial perspective. The Militia Act of 1792 provided for all healthy white males between 18 and 45 to do training, but the focus was on local defense. The Constitution guaranteed the national government the right to keep a standing army, but each citizen had the right to bear arms. The bias in the American culture favored the rights of individuals to maximum freedom rather than the obligations to defend the state. Armies were for volunteers, a refuge for the alienated, rather than for citizens. Only in the face of dire threat was military service given a positive gloss, with talk, echoing the French, of the army as a school of citizenship.7 Besides differences in how military service was viewed, the three states also had major divergences in the area of defense strategy. Strategy reﬂects geography. The French geopolitical outlook on defense reﬂected its physical position.8 Seated at the crossroads of the continent, France had experienced countless military incursions. France’s absence of defendable natural frontiers in the north made it especially aware of the need to rally strong forces against a threat. In contrast, the British sat on their island, protected by the turbulent channel and North Sea and by the Royal Navy. Similarly, two oceans and weak neighbors allowed the United States a luxury in defense that France did not share. Geography alone then helps explain why both Britain and the United States relied more on small professional armies, while continental Europe moved toward conscription. For many years the British simply purchased the use of European conscripts to protect British interests on the continent. Besides geography, the differences between the three nations extend to every aspect of culture, from language and food to law and social institutions. Such differences express themselves in an institution such as conscription that touches the lives of youth. What concerns the present study, however, is not the many differences but the many similarities in the way the system was adopted and operated in three such divergent cultures.9 Despite fundamental differences in culture, in the 20th century all three nations adopted compulsory military service. More to the point, the conscription systems that ﬂourished in the three nations had a marked similarity. Of course, all systems had the same fundamental goal of ﬁnding men to ﬁght, but similar patterns also emerged in selecting and rejecting who would serve and not serve. The systems resemble each other in their effects on other aspects of society, the economy, for example.10 No one can hope to understand these modern states or modern military history without understanding these conscription systems. Since the 18th century this form of military service has become almost universal in the modern world. Although Britain and the United States ended conscription several years ago, and France ended it recently, for most of Western Europe for most of the

INTRODUCTION

5

20th century the draft has been an essential component of national defense strategy. The value of conscription was seen in the 19th century, and theories were offered about its nonmilitary importance. Frederick Engels even thought it would help promote socialism. He wrote that “the army, once the most Prussian, the most reactionary element of the country will be socialist in its majority as inescapably as fate.” Several social theorists applauded the egalitarian dimension of the system, which seemed a harbinger of democracy. If men were forced to ﬁght, it would be difﬁcult to deny them the vote. Service in the military would also contribute to the education of the masses in civic virtue. Although the German army did not become socialist, the increasing percentage of part-time citizen-soldiers in the military provided insurance against any army-led despotism. Racists also applauded the system. By calling the lower classes through a draft, the nation could avoid ﬁlling its military ranks and its cemeteries with members of the upper and middle classes. The burden of dying was to be spread more evenly through the population. But the main reason for the spread of conscription was more prosaic: it allowed the national governments to ﬁeld larger and larger armies. The French were the ﬁrst to illustrate the power of the “nation in arms” over purely professional forces.11 Today every schoolchild in France learns of how citizens rose to defend the revolution from reactionary Europe in 1789. In that year a committee reported to the National Assembly that in France “every citizen must be a soldier and every soldier a citizen, or we shall never have a constitution.” As late as the 1990s Frenchmen still spoke of the same unity between military service and the strength of the state. In this view conscription “subsumed” the principles of the state and democracy and was far more than a means of military recruitment. It created Frenchmen by breaking down localism and integrating diversity.12 Americans and Britons adopted conscription with more reluctance. Even today there is historical disagreement about when the British ﬁrst tried conscription. Some authors insist it was an ancient tradition associated with raising a local militia. Although it is true that the central government took actions to coerce militia to volunteer for regular duty and to force debtors into the militia, the institution of conscription in its modern sense was a product of the 20th century. When the British ﬁnally adopted the draft in World War I, they did it reluctantly and as a necessary but temporary evil.13 The British approached conscription in a more prosaic spirit than the French. Rather than seeing compulsory military service as a rising of the nation, the British adopted the device in the spirit of managing a difﬁcult problem—ensuring men for both the ﬁghting forces and the domestic economy. Although publicly lauding the egalitarian character of the draft, the pragmatic British never let ideology stand in the way of structuring conscription with a view to the most efﬁcient and scientiﬁc use of manpower.

6

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY

Of the three states under consideration, the British seemed to be most advanced in the development of a true managerial state with a high regard for meritocracy. In contrast to the French socialists, who saw the draft as a means of protecting the Republic from militarism, the unsentimental British Labour Party opposed conscription on the utilitarian grounds that union members would be called in disproportionate numbers.14 The United States shared with the British a dislike of conscription, although it had been used to staff militia in the pre–Civil War period. The ﬁrst federal draft occurred during the Civil War but functioned mainly to coerce volunteers. The institution provoked riots in Northern cities and physical assaults on draft ofﬁcials in rural areas. The numerous substitutes and buyout options ensured that the draft emerged from the conﬂict with a poor reputation.15 By 1917, however, as the United States stood on the brink of entering the European conﬂict, a group of progressive planners began pushing conscription as a means of using manpower efﬁciently. Although other goals, such as improving civic virtues and public health and spreading casualties more evenly through the population, were mentioned, the managerial advantage of a centralized draft was foremost in the minds of federal planners. Unlike Britain, however, the United States had to compose its draft apparatus within the limits of federalism. The American draft was designed to function from the bottom up, with extraordinary authority granted to local and state draft ofﬁcials. This attention to Jeffersonian ideology compromised the Hamiltonian hopes of the national planners. Also, the Americans had little respect for the French identiﬁcation of conscription and citizenship. In fact, the Americans drafted aliens.16 Whatever their diverse routes to conscription, by World War I all three states had accepted the idea.

NOTES 1. Letter to author, 9 July 1991. 2. George M. Fredrickson, “From Exceptionalism to Variability: Recent Developments in Cross-National Comparative History,” Journal of American History 82 (September 1995): 601; for problems of comparative history see the following: Roland Axtmann, “Society, Globalization and the Comparative Method,” History of the Human Sciences 6 (May 1993): 53–74; Victoria E. Bonnell, “The Uses of Theory, Concepts and Comparison in Historical Sociology,” Comparative Studies in Society and History (1980): 156–173; A. A. Van Den Braembussche, “Historical Explanation and Comparative Method: Towards a Theory of the History of Society,” History and Theory 28 (1989): 1–24; Raymond Grew, “The Case for Comparing Histories,” American Historical Review 85 (October 1980): 763–778; A. O. Hill & B. H. Hill, “Marc Bloch and Comparative History,” ibid.: 828–854; M. Sato, “Comparative Ideas of Chronology,” History and Theory 30 (1991): 275;

INTRODUCTION

7

William H. Sewell, Jr., “Marc Bloch and the Logic of Comparative History,” History and Theory 6 (1967): 208–218. 3. Maurice Faivre, Les Nations arme´es de la guerre des peuples a` la guerre des e´toiles (Paris: FEDN, 1988), p. 91. 4. Richard D. Challener, The French Theory of the Nation in Arms, 1866– 1939 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955), p. 4, for quote by Rousseau, 8; Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 44; M. Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes to the Army’s Role in French Society,” British Journal of Sociology 15 (December 1964): 338–349. 5. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” I: 44; Challener, The French Theory, pp. 4 quote, 8. Allan Forrest, in “Citizenship and Military Service,” in Rene´e Waldinger, Philip Dawson, & Isser Woloch, eds., The French Revolution and the Meaning of Citizenship (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1993), pp. 153–164, writes that a common military experience, like a common education, was seen as forging a common national identify. See also Herman Lebovics, “Creating the Authentic France: Struggles over French Identity in the First Half of the Twentieth Century,” in John R. Gillis, ed., Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1994), pp. 239, 240–241; Eugen J. Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of Rural France, 1870–1914 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1976). 6. Faivre, Nations, p. 100; quote from L. H. Landon, “Military Service, Reserve Forces and Their Training in the French Army,” Army Quarterly 95 (October 1967): 101. 7. Walter Millis, Arms and Men: A Study of American Military History (New York: Putnam, 1956), pp. 25, 43, 47; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 37; Philip Abrams, “Armed Forces and Society: Problems of Alienation,” in J. N. Wolfe & John Erickson, eds., Armed Services and Society (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1988), p. 35; David C. Rapoport, “A Comparative Theory of Military and Political Types,” in Samuel P. Huntington, ed., Changing Patterns of Military Politics (New York: Free Press, 1962), p. 71. 8. Lebovics, “Creating the Authentic France,” p. 239, argues that the French state had a unique problem because it “set out to create a people.” 9. Elizabeth Kier, Imagining War: French and British Military Doctrine between the Wars (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997), p. 25. 10. See Albert A. Blum, “Comparative Conscription Systems: An Exploratory Analysis,” in Roger W. Little, ed., A Survey of Military Institutions (Chicago: InterUniversity Seminar on Armed Forces and Society, 1969), pp. 443–474; Margaret Levi, “The Institution of Conscription,” Social Science History 20 (Spring 1996): 133–167; Francis Tusa, “Europeans Uncertain about Future of Reserves, Utility of Conscription,” Armed Forces Journal International 130 (October 1992): 28; Edward R. Cain, “Conscientious Objection in France, Britain, and the United States,” Comparative Politics 2 (January 1970): 275–307. 11. Engels quoted in L. V. Scott, Conscription and the Attlee Governments: The Politics and Policy of National Service 1945–1951 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 7; Eliot A. Cohen, Citizens & Soldiers: The Dilemmas of Military Service (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1985), pp. 34, 37, 58; Jacques van

8

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY

Doorn, The Soldier and Social Change (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1975), pp. 95, 98–99. 12. Quote from Millis, Arms, p. 54; Faivre, Nations, p. 100; Charles C. Moskos & John W. Chambers II, eds., The New Conscientious Objection: From Sacred to Secular Resistance (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), pp. 92–93. 13. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 34, 83–84. 14. F. W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organisation in Two World Wars (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), p. 215; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 84. 15. See John W. Chambers II, To Raise an Army: The Draft Comes to Modern America (New York: Free Press, 1987). 16. Ibid., p. 11; Statement of U.S. State Department, 1955, Lab 6, ﬁle 675, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom; see also 24 February 1953 and 16 June 1955, ibid.

Chapter 2

The Road to World War I The legal framework for modern conscription evolved during the 19th century. Before the French Revolution, governments obtained masses of men in a variety of ways, including the rough-and-ready press gang. With the revolution a process of codiﬁcation began that slowly evolved into the 20th century format. The process was ﬁlled with side steps and missteps. In the 19th century both the United States and France displayed this fumbling. Britain delayed adoption of conscription until World War I. The three nations had some common foundations upon which to build conscription but also some important differences. Each had developed a militia form of service before the 19th century. Two ideas distinguish the militia from modern conscription: the principle of a particular as opposed to a universal obligation and the principle of local direction rather than national direction and control. All three nations also shared a democratic bias in government, but their forms were hardly identical. There were important differences in voting rights, representation, and constitutional theory. All three stressed citizen’s rights and equality under the law, but French legal theory placed less stress on individual protection against the central state and more on duties to the state.1 In the United States a strong suspicion of state power was a key element in constitutional and political development. The British relied upon precedent rather than a written constitution to protect individual rights and developed a stronger central government than the United States. Besides the constitutional differences, each nation had a different historical context in which to face the problem of compulsory military service.

10

CONSCRIPTION AND DEMOCRACY

THE UNITED STATES In America the public held professional soldiers in low esteem for most of the 19th century. The country accepted the myth of defense being the responsibility of the “citizen-soldier.” Machiavelli had written in The Art of War that the duties of citizenship included soldiering. Like Republican France, the United States accepted this idea and disdained the profession of arms. But again like France, in practice, the United States found such a concept ineffective in an emergency. From the establishment of Jamestown in 1607 to the beginning of the American Revolution in 1775, over 650 laws and ordinances were passed by the colonies invoking involuntary military service in one form or another. But these local precedents had no impact on the new nation.2 The Continental Congress created a military force by copying the form used by the British army, a small, professional, voluntary force. When George Washington found himself strapped for volunteers, the states chipped in by drafting their militia forces. All too often, however, these troops proved of marginal value.3 After the revolution the nation reverted to the militia and citizen-soldier myth. Even Washington, who had ﬁrsthand experience with the rabblelike militia, rejected any large professional army and admitted that “the militia of this country must be considered the paladin of our security and the ﬁrst effective resort in case of hostilities.” Although he proposed a reform of the system, with training of all males from ages 18 to 50 to ﬁght on short notice, little reform occurred. An act of 1808 appropriated $200,000 yearly for equipping the militia and asserted some national rules. But in the War of 1812 the force proved ineffective, despite its role in the battle of New Orleans. By the Mexican War of 1846 federal volunteering had replaced the militia system as a mobilization tool for major wars. In Mexico some militia units left the actual battleﬁeld when their three-month term was over.4 The Confederacy adopted a Conscription Act in April 1862. Establishing a pattern that would be repeated later in various countries, the rebel leaders turned to the draft not so much to obtain new men as to keep on active duty 100,000 one-year volunteers. These battle-hardened veterans now had to remain in uniform. In the North the United States adopted the Militia Act on 17 July 1862. If states failed to ﬁll militia units, President Abraham Lincoln had the power to draft into federal service any able-bodied male between 18 and 45 years of age and not just those who had volunteered for state service. No limit was placed on where and how long they had to serve. Another radical feature of the act was a provision for the enlistment—and emancipation in exchange for honorable service—of blacks, both free and slaves. Under the act, governors had authority to draft citizens into state units, but the president could not intervene in the process unless a state did not

THE ROAD TO WORLD WAR I

11

meet its quotas through volunteers. Induction of nonvolunteers took place only in those congressional districts that failed to meet quotas for volunteers. In mid-1862, as the old one-year tours were expiring and a federal draft was discussed, three states—Indiana, Ohio, and Michigan—actually conducted local drafts to ﬁll their units.5 The following winter a new law afﬁrmed “the power of the national government to raise and support armies without state assistance.” Enacted on 3 March, the Enrollment Act of 1863 asserted federal authority and outlined harsh penalties for noncompliance. Yet loopholes remained. The law imposed compulsory service for men between the ages of 20 and 45, based on age and marital status. The bill spoke of service in the “national forces,” upon the call of the president. The act also applied to immigrants who declared an intention to gain citizenship. One unfortunate result was the New York draft riots, leading to the deaths of several hundred people. Ultimately 25 percent of the 210,000 veterans of the Union army were foreign-born.6 The existence of a federal draft did induce voluntary enlistments. Based on total enlistments recorded over the duration of the war, 94 percent of U.S. soldiers were ofﬁcially volunteers, not draftees, and only 21 percent of Confederate soldiers were drafted. But these ﬁgures are misleading. The South’s conscription acts kept the other 79 percent, who had volunteered, on active service. In 1862, those already in uniform were “frozen,” required to serve a mandatory three years. Two years later this was extended until the end of the war. In contrast, Northern volunteers could and did go home when their enlistments were up. In summary, the operation of the Yankee draft witnessed inefﬁciency, error, corruption, and even bloodshed. As in 19th-century France, if a man did not want to serve, he could buy his way out by hiring a substitute. Opportunists soon saw a proﬁt to be made. A substitute would desert after being paid and hire out again in another location. Worse still, in the application of the law, almost every kind of mistake was made, beginning with control of the draft by the military. Federal enrolling ofﬁcers hunted down conscripts in house-to-house searches, prompting riots, armed resistance, and the murder of 38 enrollment ofﬁcers. Ofﬁcially some 300,000 men were drafted in the North, but only 260,000 actually appeared, and 165,000 failed to pass induction standards. When the numbers who paid commutation or hired substitutes were subtracted, the total drafted was less than 50,000 in four calls from 1863 to 1865. The serious errors made by both the North and South conscription programs led to a comprehensive postwar study of the problem by the military.7 The Oakes Report appeared in 1866, a product of Brigadier General James Oakes, assistant provost marshal of Illinois. The report highlighted mistakes and made recommendations for the future. Not until 1917, however, did Enoch H. Crowder, judge advocate general of the army, have

12

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occasion to implement the Oakes recommendations. They formed the heart of the draft law of World War I and subsequent draft laws.8 The core ideas were as follows: There were to be no bounties for volunteering and no hired substitutes; civilians rather than military ofﬁcers should operate the draft; local citizens should be involved in selection; the tour of duty should be the duration of any conﬂict; any deferments granted should be on an individual rather than a class basis. Although the Spanish-American War was fought with volunteers and no draft was needed, the aftermath of that conﬂict saw a major reform of the services. Secretary of War Elihu Root pushed through these measures. From 1903 to 1916 he created a regular army staff and made other changes. The National Guard became the primary reserve; however, in return for federal funding, it was subject to new standards and the president’s call to active duty. A new federal reserve was created; Reserve Ofﬁcer Training Corps and Citizens’ Military Training Camps were established. The Root reforms envisioned an expanded military force in time of war that could be created only through the mechanism of conscription. The ideas behind such a mobilization sprang from the lobbying of a group of Progressive elites, such as Root, Henry Stimson, and Theodore Roosevelt. American conscription thus should be seen as an outgrowth of the efﬁciency schemes promoted by progressivism.9 GREAT BRITAIN As with the United States, Great Britain exhibited an anticonscription mentality. Again, like America, Britain stood in a geopolitical position that did not require a large army. In 1648, a petition of the people to the House of Commons read: “[Y]ou should disclaim, yourselves and all future representatives, a power of pressing or forcing any sort of men to serve in wars, there being nothing more opposite to freedom.”10 Such opposition did not mean that Britons were unfamiliar with compulsory military service. Feudal England witnessed the usual obligation of men to offer military service to the king. Such feudal levies died out with the Restoration, but a local militia responsibility remained.11 Under a variety of laws, including the Ballot Act of 1757, the crown retained the power to force men into service. The government used this power on numerous occasions, especially during the Napoleonic Wars. The crown could force men into the militia, then call up this force. The result was an indirect conscription. Until World War I, however, the British citizen and the government relied mainly on a voluntary force. The experience under Cromwell’s dictatorship had left a strong distaste for a large standing army. In the Bill of Rights of 1688 the crown was “expressly prohibited from raising or keeping a standing army within the Kingdom in time of peace unless with the consent of Parliament.” In fact, the Parliament had to authorize annually the contin-

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ued existence of the army, a policy that remained until 1955. As an island, with strong sea barriers, Great Britain adopted a white water strategy and built an unparalleled navy. The small professional army functioned mainly in the paciﬁcation and policing of the empire.12 Such restrictions ensured that in Britain, as in all professional armies before the 20th century, the lower classes ﬁlled the ranks and the upper classes dominated the ofﬁcer corps. It was not until after the Crimean War in 1854 that a man could volunteer for less than a lifetime in the British army. Desertions were frequent; discipline, raw. Ignorant youths were cajoled into the recruiting stations by men who were paid by the head. As ofﬁcers were paid little, only the upper classes could afford such a profession. Such an army posed little political threat to the existing social order.13 Despite the rigors of military service, the British were able to ﬁeld a considerable force during the 19th century. Like the rest of Europe, the population of Britain expanded steadily, from 12 million in 1811 to almost 44 million in 1951. Against Napoleon, Britain eventually ﬁelded threequarters of a million men, counting militia, volunteers, and regulars. The army’s strength remained above 200,000 from the Indian Mutiny (1857) to 1914,14 but the military participation rate (percentage of eligible male cohort) remained low. And the armies of the new century required many more men than this.15 The Boer War of 1899–1902 caused a major rethinking of military manpower in England. It was not merely that the Boers succeeded in defeating the British army in several sharp encounters but that the typical volunteer seemed incompetent. Although increasing numbers of volunteers came from the middle and upper classes, the army still found itself rejecting 40 to 50 percent of the applicants. All regulars were engaged, and the government raised the specter of conscription. But opponents reiterated the old protest that the draft was an illegal infringement of freedom and a violation of tradition. The Boers made peace, but the British began to rethink the manning of the army. On the continent, Prussia had demonstrated the power of conscription in 1870 by crushing the professional French army. The French in turn had begun to adopt the system of the new Germany. Any future war on the continent would require many more forces than the regular British army could ﬁeld.16 In the years preceding World War I the British debated the value of compulsory military service. Besides the strategic question of ﬁghting a major land war on the continent as an ally of a conscripted French army, the issues raised in the debate reveal the political side of the draft question. As was true in the United States, sympathy for compulsory military training emerged ﬁrst in the upper classes. These classes in Britain viewed conscription as a means of civic education, moral uplift, and social hygiene. Although the laboring class continued to object to such service, the Fabian socialists were taken with the potential of conscription as a tool to provide

14

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mandatory education, sanitation, and other beneﬁts to the masses. The opportunities for social management in such a scheme seemed boundless.17 Following a pattern later duplicated in the United States, a group of leading British citizens began promoting universal military training as the Boer War ended. This elite set included publisher and statesman Leopold Amery, Rudyard Kipling, the Bishop of Chichester, Sir Clinton Dawkins, the Third Duke of Wellington, and various dukes and lords. This assemblage of blue bloods formed a national lobby and prevailed upon Earl Roberts of Kandahar to become president. The group looked upon the issue of national service from a moral and social perspective. The hygienic value of outdoor life was important, but so was the implicit eugenic issue of ensuring that all citizens, and not just the most loyal and patriotic, shared in the deadly defense of the nation. Military and political strategy received a nod, but above all the lobby recognized that any future continental war would require more than volunteers. Some method was needed to ensure that the common man received the military training needed to contribute to the cause. This moral aspect of the crusade helped to recruit churchmen in its support.18 Dominated by military men and the upper crust, the National Service League achieved some paper results. From 1902 to 1909 it grew to 54 branch ofﬁces, and to 250,000 members by 1915. But this growth was not translated into political success. The mass of Britons remained opposed to the idea of any compulsory training. Earl Roberts and other leaders argued in vain that their scheme was not some kind of “French conscription.” They wanted compulsory training only, with no requirement to join any military unit or serve outside of the country. The military would continue to rely on volunteers, but the trained men would be available when and if needed. Such arguments fell unheeded in Parliament, which considered no conscription law until Britain was well into the Great War.19 FRANCE Unlike Britain, France knew intimately the virtues and defects of conscription well before the war of 1914. Here the idea of a “nation in arms” became part of the myth of the revolution, the identity of the state, and the meaning of citizenship.20 In the period before the revolution of 1789, France, like other European feudal states, had called upon the peasants to ﬁght. The ﬁrst establishment of an ofﬁcial militia occurred with the Ordinance of Louvois in November 1688. This edict created the milice by requiring the service of unmarried youth aged 20 to 30 at the king’s command. By 1691 intendants supervised the system; the service was for two years with exemptions for married men. Throughout the 18th century the system provoked resistance, especially for ﬁghting in foreign wars. A variety of legal reforms were passed in the 1700s, and the drawing of lots

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became the basis of selection. One of the ﬁrst and most popular acts of the revolutionary government in 1789 was to suppress the Royal militia.21 The peasants applauded but soon found that compulsory military service remained. The ideology of the revolution emphasized the rights of man, but threats from foreign foes obligated the leadership to deﬁne military service as the “sine qua non” of full citizenship. The constitution of the First Republic in 1793 declared: “[T]ous les franc¸ais sont en re´quisition permanente pour le service des arme´es.” Youth would ﬁght, married men would provide logistics, women would make tents and serve as nurses, the elderly would applaud and encourage patriotism, and children would make bandages. Even Anabaptists, who refused to bear arms, were recognized for service in noncombatant roles. More important, conscription was now seen as an instrument that would turn individuals into French citizens of the Republic.22 The integration idea never worked, but the institution served France in the revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars that followed. What the German military theorist Karl von Clausewitz noted later in the century, that superior numbers would prove decisive in modern war, the French demonstrated with their mass Republican force.23 The levy of 1793 for 300,000 covered men ages 18 to 25. Although excluding married men and widowers, the system allowed France to build up an army of 800,000 men. The “loi Jourdan” of 1798 provided the ﬁrst codiﬁcation of conscription. Twenty-year-olds were called for a 5-year term. Even with the enthusiasm of the revolution still fresh, such a long term of duty caused unrest and rebellion in the Vende´e. In the second levy of April 1799, the age of callup rose to 22 because of the high evasion rate of younger men.24 Napoleon preached that conscription was a positive good for France. While understanding that it was hard on families to lose a youth to the army, he was convinced that military service would be popular because it offered the chance for adventure and honorable advancement. His own experience was an example of the beneﬁts of military service. He announced that conscription was a truly national and equal experience, with no deferments or exceptions. “Si j’exemptais un conscrit . . . personne ne marcherait.”25 In fact, Napoleonic conscription was widely resisted and ripe with corruption. France beneﬁted during this period from a growing population, which furnished Napoleon with his armies. He tapped this manpower by introducing a system that bore the good and bad marks of subsequent systems in the United State and Britain. The original law of 8 March 1800 covered males from 18 to 40, but there were many means of escape. Incorporated into this and subsequent laws were provisions for deferments and substitutions. Although the system was tightened up over the years, it always allowed men to buy their way out. Between 1806 and 1810, some 4.5

16

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percent of those called were substitutes. Some 25,000 out of 556,000 paid Fr100 to the government as an indemnity for not serving. Yet from 1800 to 1812 Napoleon was able to use this law to draw over 2 million men under arms.26 The administration of the system evolved from a highly decentralized operation to a more national one. In words that would be echoed by American draft ofﬁcials in the 20th century, Count Pierre Da´ru´, a military adviser to Napoleon, wrote, “As for the actual allotment, it is conﬁded to the ofﬁcials most immediately concerned with the interests of the people— those ofﬁcials who are domiciled in the place where they exercise their temporary functions, and have more need than any other ofﬁcials to conserve the esteem of their fellow citizens.” Such notables were also able to better evaluate the local circumstances and the impact of taking one man rather than another. The count recognized, as did American ofﬁcials, that while perfect fairness was impossible, local opinion would serve as a sufﬁcient check on corruption.27 Local ofﬁcials used a variety of means to decide who was to march, including a lottery system and physical exam. Conﬂicts often arose between local and national ofﬁcials over the deﬁnition of physical ﬁtness, another problem that would reemerge in the 20th century in both Britain and the United States.28 But no system, French or foreign, local or national, could function smoothly when faced with strong opposition. Riots and evasion were common in 19th-century France; every so many years the government offered a general amnesty to evaders. The system fell disproportionately upon the poor. In 1802 some 155,000 evaders accepted the amnesty offer. The government resorted to ﬁnes, to conﬁscation of property, and to military raids in the countryside. One such raid in 1811 rounded up 100,000 insoumis (rebels). In January 1810 over Fr267 million in ﬁnes were assessed.29 An ofﬁcial wrote in May 1813 that the levies were functioning without problem in all areas, but the ﬁgures proved otherwise. Although the rate of compliance undoubtedly did improve, the French masses never accepted conscription and assuredly did not view it as a means by which they could advance themselves. The unpopularity of the system made it an attractive target for dissolution when Napoleon was replaced by the monarchy.30 One of the ﬁrst acts of Louis XVIII was to end conscription in 1814. But France still had need of an army, mainly for its overseas empire, and in 1818 a new recruitment system appeared. Although the Bourbons were committed to a professional army, the stafﬁng of this force could be achieved only by coercion. Under the 1818 law a lottery was held among eligible young men. Those who picked a good number were exempt; those who selected a bad number had to serve for seven years. This lengthy tour ensured that the army had the beneﬁt of seasoned troops and not shortterm conscripts. But the lottery still used the element of coercion and was

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bitterly resented in the countryside. The small numbers required prevented more violent unrest. In 1824 the annual contingent of selectees amounted to 60,000 men for eight years. This rose to 80,000 in 1832 and 100,000 by 1868. Normally the selected group ranged around 20,000 annually.31 The call of small numbers, with many exemptions and loopholes, explains why the system was passed easily by the parlement. Those who selected a bad number had the option of ﬁnding a substitute. Rather than ﬁnd a substitute, it also became possible to pay Fr2,000 to the government to obtain an exemption. This enterprise became a big business under Napoleon III. Consequently, only the poor had to face a seven-year tour. Although such men were granted a pension after 20 years of service, this hardly made it an attractive option and did little to promote social harmony. Military service, which had been conceived by the revolutionists as a mark of patriotism and citizenship, had now degenerated to what the poor called an impoˆt du sang (blood tax). To make matters worse, the system failed to serve well the French military establishment. The French professional army learned this lesson in 1870.32 On 19 July 1870 France declared war on Prussia. The Prussians invaded France with a force of 370,000, mostly short-term conscripts. The French army had only 240,000 men, but supposedly their ardor and ability were superior because of their longer term of service. This proved an illusion. Within a matter of months the Prussians had crushed French resistance, captured Napoleon III, and helped launch the Third Republic. In Paris a radical commune emerged that was overcome only after bloody strife. The Prussian short-term conscript army, with a lengthy reserve obligation, became the model for the future. Now France began to reform its conscription laws, moving toward shorter terms, more universality, and more reserve obligation. In 1870 France eventually mobilized 1.25 million men but was still outnumbered by Prussia. In 1914 France would mobilize 3.5 million with its new conscription.33 This new system emerged only slowly. From 1872 to 1905 France adopted three different conscription laws. The general direction of these changes was toward shorter terms and more equality of service. The professional army viewed the reforms as a threat to its integrity and resisted. The ﬁrst law of 1872, offered by the government of Louis Adolph Thiers, stated that military service in France was “personal and obligatory for the entire male population.” Justin Chasseloup-Laubat, who sponsored the law in the assembly, declared: “It is necessary that each know, and that from infancy, that he must defend his country.”34 Again, as in the revolutionary years, a military crisis caused French politicians to raise their level of rhetoric, to refer to the sacred obligation of duty to the country. But, as in the postrevolutionary years, such enthusiasm was not translated into a permanent universal system. To begin with, France could not afford to draft all of its male youth. The ﬁnancial burden

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would have been enormous. Also, the professional army had no desire to assume the onerous task of training short-term conscripts who then went into the reserves. Finally, the various interest groups made the familiar argument that the conscription of this specialist or that student or this supporter of a family threatened the nation rather than contributing to its defense. What emerged from the debate in 1871–1872 was a law that proclaimed equality and universality but functioned like the old laws. It operated one way in peace and another in war. Thiers himself explained that one had to recognize the impossibility of true universal service, because of health, education, economic, and other interests.35 During wartime all males 20 to 40 years of age were eligible for call. The ofﬁcial tour of service was ﬁve years. But the rest of the law emasculated the idea of equality and universality. Legal exemptions were provided for teachers and clergy. One estimate is that 4 percent of each eligible cohort could obtain a delay to pursue studies, continue training, or for family reasons. For young men with a degree there was an option of volunteering for only one year, with the payment to the government of Fr1,500. The annual contingent of eligible men was itself divided into two factions, with those who selected a good number in the lottery required to do only one year of service. In one year 110,000 conscripts were assigned ﬁve-year terms; another 40,000 got only one year, and yet another 60,000 were excused from all service. This hodgepodge system was the result of what politicians called a concern that “the men will have served in diverse conditions which is driven by the course of events,” whatever that meant.36 Events in French history over the next 40 years led to various revisions of this law. Of prime concern were relations with the new Germany. France wanted the return of territory lost in 1870 but also feared that Germany was growing stronger. The population growth of the two countries began to diverge, with France experiencing a slowing of birthrate. Internally, the course of its politics turned toward the Left, with Republicans demanding more equality of service, less protection for the privileged, and a general democratizing of the professional army. These trends help to explain the next two revisions of the conscription law. With the centenary of the revolution in 1889 the Republican-dominated government moved to reform the system. Those who did not serve could not work for the state, and the active military lost the vote. The tour of active duty was cut to three years, and the total reserve obligation raised from 20 to 25 years. The shorter tour meant a larger percentage of each cohort did some military service, but exceptions and deferments remained. Now 70 percent of the contingent served a full three years, but 30 percent were either deferred or released early. Youth supporting their families, teachers, seminarians, certain students, and even art workers were exempt. The one-year option for graduates of 1872 was now revised. Before, the

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graduate had to pay a fee and promised to become an ofﬁcer to be eligible for one year of duty. Now he only had to do a year, without the fee or commission obligation.37 In 1905 the Republicans moved again to tighten up the law. The tour was cut to only two years, and most exemptions and delays were abolished. Even the physically rejected were assigned to auxiliary services in some defense-related work. The reforms moved the system to more equality, but not much.38 Several reasons explain the move toward more universality. On the level of military security, France had to arm and train a higher and higher percentage of its youth to stay abreast of a growing Germany with its mass army. From 1870 to 1900 the European population increased over 31 percent, or by almost 100 million people. Germany’s population rose from 41 to 56 million, Russia from 77 to 103 million, Britain from 31 to 41 million. But France could not keep pace. With a growth of only half a million a decade, it increased from 36 to only 39 million. To maintain a sizable military force, France found it had to increase the percentage of inductions of each annual contingent from 43 percent to almost 53 percent in 1909.39 Yet military parity was only part of the reason for the move toward more universality of conscription. Equally signiﬁcant was the internal political struggle in France between two rival visions of military responsibility. This struggle was rooted in the tensions in French society inherited from the Revolution. One scholar has identiﬁed these tensions as the three “Cs”: constitution, clericalism, and class.40 The repeated need to rewrite the basic law of the land and the rapid turnover of governments (42 between the world wars) suggest that the French lacked a basic consensus on how to govern themselves. The problem of consensus emerged in the debate over reform of the conscription system in the years preceding World War I. What was the role of the army? Such a fundamental question had, of course, been covered in the constitution and focused on the basic idea of defense of the country. But this left a great deal unanswered. The debate on conscription from 1872 to 1914 offered an opportunity for both the Right and the Left political factions to impose their answers and visions of the military. The conservative elements in France, those identiﬁed with the monarchy and the Church, believed service in the army should be longterm and lead to a professional force. Such a force could best express the theory of the offensive that would always carry the day in the ﬁeld. Only well-trained soldiers, professionally led, could serve the nation well.41 The ofﬁcer class agreed. To a degree now hard to imagine, the members of the French military after 1870 conceived of themselves as a special brotherhood or priesthood. This was not merely a job but a calling—a holy vocation dedicated to the regeneration and restoration of France. As the redeemer of France, the military distanced itself from the political arena, adopted the posture of “la grande Muette,” and welcomed the lack of franchise. For ex-aristocrats and Republican haters, the military ofﬁcer

20

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corps proved an attractive calling, and voluntary recruitment reinforced this ideology.42 This spiritual, closed vision of the role of the army suggested isolation from society, but such was not the view of all military leaders. Rather, some felt that it was only by maintaining such a special stance that the army could offer a model of regeneration for French youth. General Marie Louis Guillaumat accepted conscripts because he wished the army to promote the integration of classes, creating a “union and solidarity” for a better social order. Youth, through inculcating military training, would be educated with “social discipline,” said General Louis Jules Trochu. Ironically, the notion that the army had to play an important social role found favor even on the political Left.43 It was because of another social vision that Republicans had sought reduction of the many deferments and loopholes in conscription. Harking back to the revolutionary tradition of the citizen in arms, the Left aimed to end the isolation of the military from civil society. This political faction saw an all-professional force as a threat against Republican institutions.44 In the period 1894–1906 the affair of Captain Alfred Dreyfus offered the Republicans an opportunity to transform the military priesthood into a Republican school. Dreyfus, a Jew, was railroaded into prison on the false charge of treason. When evidence mounted of his innocence, the affair became a major scandal, thoroughly discrediting the military elite and the Right in general. The Republicans moved to end the separation of the army from the political heart of the nation. In 1899 there was a general purge of right-wing ofﬁcers by Minister of War General Louis Andre´, who began scrutinizing all ofﬁcers for their political reliability. The goal of the reforms was articulated by leading socialist politician Jean Jaure`s in his book L’Arme´ nouvelle, published in 1910.45 Both the army and the socialists agreed that conscription was “inseparable from socialization.” Earlier Lt. Louis-Hubert Lyautey had written of the special peacetime role of the army. For Lyautey the ofﬁcer should be “l’e´ducateur de la nation toute entiere.” This concept had earned him an obscure colonial assignment, but his view was similar to that of Jaure`s.46 Jaure`s’s interpretation harked back to the revolutionary tradition. France required an army, but its army must be consistent with its ideals and not a special priesthood. This meant that the army required mass conscription, with no deferments and a very short tour of duty. Jaure`s wanted only six to eight months of training, followed by 13 years of reserve duty. Such a system would generate a huge population of trained men, but the standing army would consist mainly of a training cadre. In such circumstances it could not be expected to take the offensive. This was precisely what Jaure`s wanted. France, as a peaceloving democratic state, should ﬁght only in defense of the country. In addition, the huge inﬂux of civilian conscripts

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would ensure a civilization of the military establishment and provide an opportunity to educate the poor, urban, and peasant in civic values.47 From 1870 to 1913, pressure from the Left caused changes in the French conscription system. The general direction of change was toward increased rates of participation and shorter tours. The isolation of the military caste was reduced. But reshaping an institution initially designed for war to achieve social and civil objectives was a risky enterprise. There was the risk that war might occur. When such a calamity threatened in 1913, the ideological ediﬁce sketched by Jaure`s and others crashed. Jaure`s himself was assassinated. With the enemy beating at the gates, the citizens and politicians paid less attention to ideology and more to drums and bugles. A new minister of war, Alexandre Millerand, appointed with the election of Raymond Poincare´ in 1912, trashed the reforms of Andre´, restored ofﬁcer authority, and heeded the generals’ call for a three-year tour for conscripts. A new recruitment law of 1913 followed the ideas of the military. Now backed by business and the spirit of nationalism, the active army increased by 50 percent to a standing army of 800,000.48 France began the war with a conscript army, and its allies soon followed suit. NOTES 1. Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), II: 28–30, makes much of this distinction. 2. For a review of American military mobilization in the 19th century, see George Q. Flynn, “Manpower Mobilization and Demobilization,” in Encyclopedia of the American Military, 3 vols. (New York: Scribner’s, 1994), 3: 1865–1893. The following material also relies heavily on “A History of SSS,” ed. G. Q. Flynn, mss. at National Headquarters, Selective Service System (hereafter cited as “History of SSS”). See also William G. Carleton, “Raising Armies before the Civil War,” in Martin Anderson, ed., The Military Draft (Stanford, Calif.: Hoover Institute, 1976), pp. 67–78. 3. Lawrence D. Cress, Citizens in Arms: The Army and the Militia in American Society to the War of 1812 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1982), p. 22; Walter Millis, Arms and Men: A Study of American Military History (New York: Putnam, 1956), pp. 25, 31. 4. Millis, Arms, pp. 34, 43–44, 61, 73, 104. See also Flynn, “Manpower Mobilization,” 3: 1865–1893. 5. See W. J. Rorabaugh, “Who Fought for the North in the Civil War? Concord, Massachusetts, Enlistments,” Journal of American History 73 (December 1986): 695 ff. 6. See Adrian Cook, The Armies of the Street: The New York Draft Riots of 1863 (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1974). 7. Ibid. See United States Joint Army and Navy Selective Service Committee, American Selective Service: A Brief Account of Its Historical Background and Its Probable Future Form (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1939).

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8. See Edward A. Fitzpatrick, “The Volunteer and the Conscript in American Military History,” Current History (1 April 1960): 205–213; Joint Army Navy Selective Service Committee (JANSSC), American Selective Service: A Brief Account of Its History (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1939); also see John W. Chambers II, To Raise an Army: The Draft Comes to Modern America (New York: Free Press, 1987), p. 135. 9. Millis, Arms, p. 173; see especially Chambers, To Raise. 10. Quote from Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 25. 11. Gerald Whiteley, “The British Experience with Peacetime Conscription,” Army Quarterly and Defense Journal 117 (July 1987): 319; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 84. 12. R.J.Q. Adams & P. P. Poirier, The Conscription Controversy in Great Britain, 1900–1918 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1987), p. 24; Stephen Deakin, “The British Army: The State, Politics and Society,” in Lynton Robbins, ed., Political Institutions in Britain (New York: Longman, 1987), pp. 246–247; quote in Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” I: 38. 13. Deakin, “British Army,” p. 247; Adams & Poirier, Conscription, p. 56; T. H. McGufﬁe, “Recruiting the British Army in Modern Times,” Memoirs and Proceedings of the Manchester Literary & Philosophical Society 96 (1954): 97–98, 101. 14. McGufﬁe, “Recruiting,” pp. 111–112. 15. Brian Bond, “Demography and War: A Military Historian’s Perspective,” in Lawrence Freedman & John Saunders, eds., Demography and War: A Military Historian’s Perspective (London: Brassey’s, 1992), p. 193. The military participation rate describes the percentage of males in the pool of eligibles (generally 18 to 45) who served. 16. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 6, 26; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 94, 98. 17. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 19, 26. 18. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 88, 94; Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 10–11. See also Michael Pearlman, To Make Democracy Safe for America: Patricians and Preparedness in the Progressive Era (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1984). 19. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 88, 91, 94, 147; Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 10–11. 20. Richard D. Challener, The French Theory of the Nation in Arms, 1866– 1939 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955), p. 8. 21. Institut des Hautes E´tudes de De´fense Nationale (IHEDN), 121st reg. sess., Nantes, 23 January–23 March 1995 Study Commission on Future of Conscription (hereafter cited as IHEDN, Nantes), p. 2; Christophe Prochasson, “Les Grands dates de l’histoire de la conscription: De la milice au service national,” Revue histoire des arme´es 2 (1982): 67. 22. Alan Forrest, “Citizenship and Military Service,” Rene´e Waldinger, Philip Dawson, and Isser Woloch, eds., The French Revolution and the Meaning of Citizenship (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1993), pp. 155–157, 164; quote in Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 35; Georges Marey, “Le Service national et le code du service national—II,” Revue militaire generale 28 (1972): 39. 23. Bond, “Demography,” p. 195.

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24. Isser Woloch, “Napoleonic Conscription: State Power and Civil Society,” Past & Present (Great Britain) 111 (1986): 102–103, 112; Franc¸ois Cailleteau, “La Conscription: Les e´le´ments du proble`me,” De´fense nationale (January 1990): 14; Bernard Tricot, “Dossier pour la reforme de recrutement,” De´fense nationale 21 (1965): 979; M. Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes to the Army’s Role in French Society,” British Journal of Sociology 15 (December 1964): 339. 25. Quote in IHEDN, Nantes, p. 3. 26. Bond, “Demography,” p. 195; Woloch, “Napoleonic,” pp. 112–113, 116– 117. 27. Quote in Woloch, “Napoleonic,” pp. 105–106. 28. Ibid., p. 104. 29. Ibid., pp. 111, 119–120, 122, 126. 30. Forrest, “Citizenship,” p. 160; Woloch, “Napoleonic,” pp. 109, 121, 124; IHEDN, Nantes, p. 3. 31. Arpad Kovacs, “French Military Legislation in the Third Republic: 1871– 1940,” Military Affairs 13 (1949): 1; Challener, French Theory, pp. 11, 13; Woloch, “Napoleonic,” p. 128; IHEDN, Nantes, p. 3; Tricot, “Dossier,” p. 979. 32. Challener, French Theory, pp. 11, 14; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” p. 1; IHEDN, Nantes, p. 3; Woloch, “Napoleonic,” p. 128. 33. Bond, “Demography,” p. 196; Challener, French Theory, pp. 15, 46–47; Cailleteau, “La Conscription,” p. 14; Witold Zaniewicki, “Un centenaire: Le Service militaire obligatoire,” Revue de de´fense nationale 28(7) (1972): 1136; Robert O. Paxton, Parades and Politics at Vichy: The French Ofﬁcer Corps under Marshal Petain (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), p. 18. 34. First quote, Challener, French Theory, p. 33; second quote, Zaniewicki, “Un Centenaire,” p. 1130; IHEDN, MH1, “Study on National Service,” 2222, p. 2. 35. Calleteau, “La Conscription,” p. 14; Challener, French Theory, p. 42; Zaniewicki, “Un Centenaire,” p. 1131. 36. Paxton, Parades, 18; Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es, Paris (hereafter cited as SIRPA), dossier Service National, p. 1; IHEDN, Nantes, p. 4; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 76; Tricot, “Dossier,” p. 979; quote in Zaniewicki, “Un Centenaire,” pp. 1132, 1129. 37. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 77; Zaniewicki, “Un Centenaire,” pp. 1128, 1132–1134; Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes,” p. 346; SIRPA, dossier SN, p. 2. A “contingent” represented the men due for call-up in any one year. 38. Tricot, “Dossier,” p. 979; Zaniewicki, “Un Centenaire,” p. 1128; SIRPA, dossier SN, p. 2; Challener, French Theory, p. 60. 39. Bond, “Demography,” p. 197; Challener, French Theory, pp. 79–80. 40. Maurice Larkin, France since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936–1986 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), p. 36. 41. Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes,” p. 346. 42. Ibid., pp. 343–345. 43. Ibid., p. 342; quote in Challener, French Theory, p. 36; quote in Zaniewicki, “Un Centenaire,” pp. 1130–1131. 44. Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” p. 6; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 75; Zaniewicki, “Un Centenaire,” p. 1130. 45. Challener, French Theory, p. 61; Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes,”

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pp. 345–346; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” p. 7. See also Eric Cahm, The Dreyfus Affair in French Society and Politics (London: Longman, 1996). 46. First quote, IHEDN, Nantes, p. 4; second quote, Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes,” p. 346; Paxton, Parades, p. 183. 47. Paxton, Parades, p. 16; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” p. 8; George A. Kelly, Lost Soldiers: The French Army and Empire in Crisis, 1947–1962 (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1965), p. 15; Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes,” p. 346. 48. A. Constantini, “L’Institution de service militaire obligatoire et ses re´percussions sur l’arme´e et la nation,” Revue internationale d’histoire militaire 55 (1983): 159; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” pp. 9–10.

Chapter 3

Conscription and War Conscription’s raison d’eˆtre is to ﬁll the ranks of military forces to ﬁght war. Without the requirements of the armed forces there would be no conscription. While a few states, such as Switzerland, use conscription as a means of maintaining a large reserve force against potential enemies, this really amounts to a system of national service, required of all male citizens. Throughout history, politicians have called for a conscription system as a method of promoting such varied goals as better health, education, and citizenship values for the state. Rarely has such motivation been strong enough to support a system of conscription in the absence of war or the threat of war. The world wars of the 20th century forced almost all modern industrial states to create a conscription system. The United States and Great Britain codiﬁed a draft in World War I. France, building upon the many earlier legislative efforts, began to reﬁne its system. In drafting such laws these states tried to pay homage to a democratic ethos and the rights of individuals. All three states rested upon democratic principles and recognized individual rights free from arbitrary state coercion. This political philosophy ensured a built-in tension between principles of the polities and the demands of compulsory military enrollment. The details that emerged reﬂected differences based on political theory, geography, demographics, and political interest groups.1 All three states argued that the principle of conscription was embedded in national tradition. For the United States, this principle was found in a colonial militia and afﬁrmed in several Supreme Court decisions. For the British, justiﬁcation rested upon the common-law notion of the posse comitatus and was traced back to the Assize of Arms of 1181, although this

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concerned service in the militia rather than the regular army. The French had the easiest time providing an ideological basis for conscription because of the association of the leve´e en masse with the triumph of the revolution.2 In codifying conscription, the three nations had a uniform objective: to present military service as a burden laid equally upon all citizens. The American laws of 1940–1973 read: “The Congress further declares that in a free society the obligations and privileges of military training and service should be shared generally.” The British laws of 1939–1960 read: “Every male person who is a British subject . . . shall . . . become liable under this Act to be called up for service in the armed forces of the Crown.” The French laws begin: “Le service national est universel.”3 In all three countries the legal framework covered similar points: establishing liability by male age cohort and length of tour, requiring registration, instituting procedure for call-up and medical examination to determine ﬁtness for service, and offering some means of appealing the classiﬁcation. In both the United States and Great Britain there was a legal recognition of conscientious objection to military service, something France did not get around to doing until after World War II. All three countries offered opportunities for exemption, deferment, or delay in service to accommodate social and economic objectives.4 All states also had to confront the political problem of selling an unpopular idea, although this issue was inﬂuenced by the military context when the law was passed. Both the United States and Britain in World War I waited until war had been declared before trying to pass a law. Also, there was recognition in Britain and the United States of the need to make the draft ﬁt the requirements of general economic mobilization by providing special treatment for various specialists (students, technicians, scientists) and workers (industry and farm). All three countries recognized the importance of social stability by offering special treatment for fathers, women, and only sons. Geography and history played a role in the military planning adopted by the respective states. Protected by sea barriers and imbued with traditions of isolationism, the British and Americans could afford to delay their conscription. The French were in a more perilous position. France’s experience with Germany in 1870, the loss of territory, and the lack of a natural water barrier against enemies all helped to explain why it adopted the plan it did. France’s theory of mobilization was also inﬂuenced by sentiments tied to the revolutionary raising of citizens. France bore the burden of its history in which the left-wing parties saw conscription as a means for educating citizenry in political virtue. In the United States and Great Britain, the political Left reluctantly accepted conscription as a necessary evil rather than as an instrument of political virtue. Yet in all three countries the ultimate reason for accepting conscription was to ﬁll the ranks required by the military forces of the nation.

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FRANCE The French have a longer and more complex relationship with conscription than either Great Britain or the United States. In the 19th century the restored monarchy after Waterloo found it expedient to continue the revolutionary idea of conscription but made it a pale imitation of Napoleon’s device. Now deferments and exemptions became plentiful, as did hiring substitutes. The long tour of service by the conscript was to accommodate the aristocratically controlled army, which desired a professional force.5 Under Napoleon III a policy of long tours and many loopholes continued with certain reﬁnements. Now a person could pay a set fee to avoid service. Only the poor were drafted, and the French army remained largely professional in character. But with the crushing defeat of this army by the conscript force of Prussians in 1870, a call for reform arose. Despite this pressure, the government of Louis Adolph Thiers was able to resist any move toward mass, short-term conscription. This conservative government feared the political implications of arming the masses. The new military recruiting law of 1872 provided for continued deferments. The annual draft contingent was split into two segments: one of six months and another of four years. The short term was a gesture toward the Left but considered useless by the professional army. Increasingly sophisticated weaponry required more training, insisted the regulars.6 When the Left gained control of the Lower House in 1877 it made repeated attempts to broaden the base of conscription and shorten the tour, but the conservative-dominated Senate rebuffed such attempts repeatedly. In 1889 the military recruiting law provided for a three-year tour by draftees and offered religious exemptions and deferments for students. But change was coming. When the military establishment lost face over the Dreyfus affair (1894–1906), the door opened to reform in 1904. Socialist leader Jean Jaure`s found his ideas being accepted by the government. France should have a defensive army ﬁlled with short-term conscripts, or citizen-soldiers. This recasting of the military was accompanied by a concerted attempt to purge right-wing ofﬁcers from the army. The political Left insisted upon seeing the system as a symbol of the bond between nation and army. A 1904 report in the Chamber of Deputies announced that “the modern concept of the army is that . . . it is identical with the nation, draws from it all its resources, and has no separate and distinct existence outside the nation.”7 In contrast to the British abhorrence of military service, the French saw the citizen-soldier as a bedrock of the Republic. Similar to the American theory of the minuteman, the French expected untrained civilians to leap to the defense of the nation.8 In 1907 a decree asserted civilian supremacy over the military.9 The existence of conscription was no longer a political issue. What divided the Right and Left was the length of service. Military leaders came

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to view short-tour conscription as a Trojan horse designed by the political left as a means of degrading the sacred calling of arms.* The idea that a citizen could become a soldier through a short training period raised the question of the professionalism of the military vocation. In contrast, the military caste saw long-term conscription as an opportunity. Here was a chance to balance the secular, liberal education of the state with training in patriotism, loyalty, collective discipline, and obedience for young French males. The draft was an occasion to turn French youth into a prop of conservatism. This objective, however, could only be achieved if the tour of service for the conscript was more than 12 months. Aside from the length of tour, neither political faction disputed the need for conscription, especially with the ever-present threat of Germany and the memory of lost land. The professional military now accepted the idea that masses of manpower would be needed in any future war. The ratio of Frenchmen aged 20 to 34 compared to Germans in this age bracket grew increasingly less favorable by 1910. France recruited all its young men, but such men required extensive training. Professionals ridiculed the notion that thousands of new conscripts could confront the Germans. For the general staff, the recruitment law was inadequate because of the short tour and because it was only a partial levy, given the limited authorized strength of the army. The politicians on the Left who endorsed the citizen-soldier, however, saw him not as a source of military power but more a means of selfdefense.10 As war approached, the professional army continued to worry about the value of a short-term conscript. Yet it was precisely this short-term draftee (two years in 1912) that gave credit to the system in the eyes of the French Left. Jaure`s had written that the French military establishment had to be tied to the people. The only way this could happen was through a conscript army based on short terms, which created an army effective only for defensive purposes, as beﬁtting a peace-loving socialist republic.11 Ironically, by 1912 in France, both Left and Right agreed on a military strategy of the offense. The Left envisioned a huge mass of men quickly repulsing an enemy with offensive tactics—hence, the need for only a short tour of duty. The professional military believed in an offensive strategy that in fact depended upon masses of men. Napoleon had announced, “La Victoire est aux gros bataillons.” Karl von Clausewitz, Prussian military thinker, had insisted later in the 19th century that superior numbers were becoming more and more important.12 But the military added to the theory of mass the value of morale and the indispensability of offensive action. In an echo of the revolution, with a gloss from philosopher Henri Bergson, military planners wanted a mass instrument imbued with a superior will to *British author B. H. Liddell-Hart expressed a similar attitude in his opposition to conscription in the 1930s.

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conduct a short offensive action to win the war.13 Despite the military distrust of Jaure`s’s short-term enlistments, the system of conscription did provide the masses needed. The idea of a total mobilization and throwing of all French manpower against the enemy united rather than divided the two political factions. But, as in the United States and the United Kingdom, France found that this military strategy had a direct impact on mobilization strategy. In the United States and Britain conscription was delayed and seen as only a part of a larger mobilization plan. In France conscription preceded mobilization plans for reasons of sentiment and ideology. In France leaders strove to ﬁt mobilization into a military strategy that accepted conscription as a given. In the Anglo-Saxon countries, the reverse was true. Although committed to conscription, the French failed to appreciate the implications of total war on the economy. Both France and Great Britain had to learn by mistakes the connection between military manpower and industrial production. The political debate over the tour of a conscript was settled in 1913 with the arrival of the Poincare government. A new law lengthened the tour of duty from two to three years. The growing war threat and the support of business and military experts carried the day.14 A few Frenchmen recognized that modern war would involve more than just masses of soldiers, albeit in highly romanticized sentiments. One general had remarked that “the grandeur of a people does not depend solely upon the number of its soldiers or the force of its military institutions, but also upon its degree of civilization and on the development of agriculture, industry . . . and arts.”15 Those who controlled the initial war effort neglected this recognition. France went to war in 1914 in a manner that disrupted its economy. The social, political, and economic implications of conscription received little attention. France found its industry crippled with the loss of over 50 percent of its workers. The quick return of vital machinists to civilian jobs made little difference. Half of France’s artillery shells were expended in only 30 days. The new ﬁghting tactics required an ever-increasing logistical tail to the teeth of combat. By the end of the conﬂict France had almost a million women working for the ﬁrst time, and military spending had risen by a multiplier of seven.16 The active army was increased by 50 percent, and almost 3 million reservists were called up, creating havoc in French industry. By 1 August 1914 the French army reached 947,000, and a month later it stood at 3,844,000. France fought World War I with an army of citizen-soldiers.17 When the initial battles went against the French, the Right blamed short-term conscripts. In contrast, German success was interpreted by the Left as a vindication of the citizen-soldier concept, because the German force consisted of many reserve units. In reality, the issues were more complex than the ideological debate over conscription. The early setbacks by

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the French army were attributable to a weakness in heavy artillery and machine guns as much as anything. The conscript soldier did prove his worth, but he also needed much more training than was required for 19thcentury warfare. The exponential increase in ﬁrepower had now made nonsense of offensive doctrines that threw masses of partially trained men against enemy positions. Soon the French army had shifted to a more controlled type of combat. The ﬁnal victory served to rehabilitate the image of the professional soldier, even as the common conscript redeemed his reputation in the eyes of the nation. The war failed to resolve the debate over conscription.18 GREAT BRITAIN The British suffered an army with reluctance. The Duke of Wellington’s description of the army as “the national and ﬁlthy receptacle . . . for the misﬁts of society” caught the spirit of such antimilitarism. The British government even required an annual enabling act to legalize the very existence of the army. As an island with an empire, Britain viewed the army as an ancillary force to the “elder service,” the navy. In contrast to the French idea of service in the army as a measure of citizenship, the British made service exclusive and created an ofﬁcer corp with close ties to a social elite. This limited armed force had a limited mission: to police the empire and maintain public order. If large ground forces were needed, Britain preferred to hire them from the continent.19 Conscription, therefore, played little, if any, role in military thinking or planning before World War I. England expected to pursue “business as usual” in the case of military manpower. This meant recruiting volunteers using a system unchanged in the preceding 100 years. The general staff appointed an ofﬁcer to head recruiting in each military district of the land. Each city and town of each district opened a recruiting depot, staffed by retired military. The station dealt with an occasional straggler by handing out a brochure. The entire process reeked of amateurishness and a cultivated casualness, as beﬁt a private club.20 Such a method was in keeping with tradition and also suited some military leaders who wished to protect their profession from hordes of raw recruits with no commitment to the military ethos. In 1914 the military staff planned a ﬁeld army of 20 divisions. Each of these divisions was also to sponsor a parallel division at home. When the Guards division was added, the total force amounted to 41 divisions. Recruiting such a force was expected to require 150,000 volunteers each year. These plans seemed modest when compared to efforts in Germany, Russia, and France, where entire populations mobilized for total war.21 In England the dispensability of conscription seemed reinforced by the enthusiasm with which volunteers rushed to the colors and inundated the outmoded recruiting depots. Processing such numbers proved beyond

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the capabilities of the military. The entire recruiting service had to be revamped and eventually given over to a parliamentary recruiting ofﬁce. Social pressure rose to promote volunteers. Women passed out white feathers to those who hesitated to enlist. In some industrial communities entire factory groups volunteered as a “pals” battalion. The enthusiasm was abetted by the prominent role of Field Marshall H. H. Kitchner, the former hero of the Sudan who was now a legend in his own mind. Kitchner was convinced that a draft was not required and that his fame would sufﬁce to ﬁll the ranks.22 He made a call on 7 August 1914, and his visage looked out from thousands of posters plastered across the land, pointing sternly with the caption “Your country needs you.”23 Over a million volunteered in the ﬁrst four months of the war. Kitchner worked to form the new recruits into his “New army,” creating entirely new battalions and regiments, while ignoring the old Territorial Army. Into the ranks they came—professors of literature, physicists, laborers, and artists—the cream of British manhood. The War Ofﬁce even raised the physical standards to cull the froth from the cup which overrunneth. Classes at Oxford and Cambridge were deserted, but so were the factories that soon began to drop in output.24 Success turned into failure. Not only did the War Ofﬁce lose control of recruiting, but also the civilian economy took a beating. Inequities arose in geographic and occupational terms. One study found that the largest number of recruits came not from marginally employed men but from skilled workers in jobs and industries expanding for the war. By late November half of these British enlistments were casualties, and 10 percent were dead.25 The British had entered the war as though it were another 19th-century conﬂict. When ﬁghting began in August 1914, the British regular army stood at 247,432 men. In the years before the war, only a few British professionals saw the need for masses of men and for a conscription system. Few foresaw that Britain must eventually deploy almost 5.5 million men.26 All the combatants expected a short conﬂict, and British ofﬁcers agreed with their French counterparts on the strategy of the offense. As casualties mounted, the government tried new schemes to raise more volunteers. The Parliamentary Recruiting Committee mailed out 4.5 million questionnaires in December 1914 to heads of homes. Asking for age, occupation, and a commitment to volunteer, the form prompted over 200,000 promises to join. But within weeks the enthusiasm waned. In August an average of 75,000 men each week volunteered; in all of September, only 116,000 appeared. By the end of the year the War Ofﬁce found itself 300,000 short of its goal. The volunteers proved inadequate to provide replacements for the regular forces.27 Winston Churchill, now a member of Asquith’s coalition government, began to call for conscription of single

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men, but Kitchner still had faith in his way, and the prime minister continued to resist the idea of compulsion. The government now tried a contrivance that appeared bizarre but that in England had a certain Dickensian charm. Lloyd George, head of munitions production, had announced the need for 70 more divisions and called for government control over all industrial workers. Instead, the government commissioned Lord Derby to canvas all men in the nation from ages 18 to 41 and invite them to “attest” that they were ready to serve when called. By mid-December 1915 some 2 million had attested, but only 250,000 were ready to serve immediately. This left several million who had not attested despite peer pressure. By the end of the year 1915 the Derby scheme had been shelved, and the government ﬁnally moved to conscription.28 The bitter reality of modern war ﬁnally made an impression. This war was a meat grinder of men. By 12 September 1914 the Battle of the Marne had been fought, with over 54,000 casualties for the Allies.29 In the weeks after the Marne battle the armies tried to outﬂank each other, fought a few inconsequential battles, and began to dig in. By December a network of trenches extended across France from the Swiss border to the channel. Over the next four years hundreds of thousands of lives were lost attempting to redirect or breach this line, but it refused to vary by more than 10 miles. The incredible slaughter began early and continued late. The short-war notion quickly went a cropper. The value of the offensive spirit, or e´lan vital, as the French called it, just ensured higher rates of casualties. The new battleﬁeld of barbed wire, mines, machine guns, and especially artillery proved that the defense of ﬁre had blunted all offensive strategy. The battleﬁeld turned into a giant maw welcoming the new volunteers by the thousands and swallowing them with hardly a pause.30 Lord Curzon, leader of the House of Lords and a member of the War Cabinet, observed in 1915: “The War seems to me to be resolving itself largely into a question of killing Germans. For this purpose, viewing the present method and instruments of war, one man seems to me about the equivalent of another, and one life taken to involve another life. If then two million (or whatever ﬁgure) more of Germans have to be killed, at least a corresponding number of Allied soldiers will have to be sacriﬁced to effect that object. . . . I am anxious that we should realize the probable dimensions and provide for [them] before it is too late.”31 Such brutal realism spread through the public and was reﬂected in a severe reduction of volunteers. While the command in Europe called insistently for more boys, the government went about the agonizing process of moving toward ﬁrst a military draft and then national service for the war economy. Here was the lesson both the French and the British began to learn: If one wished to ﬁght a total war, one needed to do more than just call up male citizens and give them arms. Soon the citizen-soldiers had

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neither arms nor bullets because the economy had been totally disrupted. For France this led to the shutdown of half its factories.32 The British adopted conscription on 6 January 1916. Achieving a consensus had proved difﬁcult. An elite establishment in Britain had been promoting compulsory military training since the early 1900s. Support also grew in leftist intellectual circles. But this effort got nowhere at ﬁrst. British tradition stood opposed. The National Service League failed miserably to recruit members from the lower or laboring classes. Hardly any annual union conference met without a resolution denouncing conscription. The Liberal Party itself had little sympathy for such a violation of individual rights.33 Asquith waited 18 months after the war began before offering such a bill. By this time many vital workers had already died at the front. When the bill was ﬁnally introduced, the Home Secretary, John Simon, resigned in protest, and the Liberal Party began to break up.34 There were several good arguments for delaying conscription until the last minute. For one, the delay allowed the military to reap a harvest of highly qualiﬁed and motivated volunteers with minimum administrative change. Creating an elaborate conscription system might have delayed the expansion of the forces in 1914–1915. As for the wrong men, or key workers, volunteering, such a problem was probably unavoidable given the lack of detailed information on the economy, on individual workers, and on what the future would require in the way of war production. There was no forecasting on the number of soldiers who would be needed to win the war. The army grew irregularly. By early 1917 the British contingent in Europe numbered 1,192,668 and dropped to 1,097,906 by early 1918.35 When Asquith ﬁnally introduced the bill on 5 January 1916, it passed swiftly through Parliament and imposed compulsory military service on single males from ages 18 to 41. A second bill later raised the age to 19 and required all to serve for the duration. But even with the draft in place the government saw the need for more control. Earlier, in June 1915, a Ministry of Munitions had been created to oversee the problem of war production. Unfortunately, the information needed on how to go about protecting industry from reckless conscription was available only from sources with a bias for deferment, namely, the employers of ﬁrms desperate to retain their workforce. The British draft provided for the deferment of clergy and conscientious objectors but ignored engineers. Like France, the British improvised. The ﬁrst impulse was to allow local tribunals to grant exemptions at the request of local manufactures. In the ﬁrst year of the draft twice the number of exemptions were issued as enlistments in the forces.36 Lloyd George, assuming the role of minister of munitions in mid-1916 and secretary of state for war in July, called for tighter control of both military and civilian manpower. Key industries such as coal, iron, engineering, and chemicals were suffering from severe labor shortages. After

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Asquith resigned and Lloyd George became prime minister in December 1916, such a measure passed. By August 1917 a Ministry of National Service was in place under Sir Auckland Geddes with full power to shift workers to key jobs and round up youngsters for the forces. By November 1917 the War Ofﬁce reported that deferments since the beginning of the year totaled 437,095. Of the men called up but deferred, some three-fourths were physically ﬁt for general duty. In attempting to decertify able men with deferments, the government found an unexpected ally in the trade unions. The unions worried that bosses might use their power of selective deferment request to destroy the movement. A striker could lose his exemption and be drafted. Not until February 1918, however, did the British pass a law tightening up deferments, although the National Service Act of December 1916 theoretically allowed the government total control of the movement of civilian labor.37 Despite these controls, on 13 December 1917 a cabinet committee reported shortages for the armed services at between 500,000 and 600,000 men and for industry at 100,000 immediately and 400,000 in future. The committee jejunely recommended that the command in France operate in ways to reduce casualties. In April 1918 the government responded to huge losses from a German counterattack by amending the law to cover ages 18 to 50 and unsuccessfully extended the draft to Ireland.38 By now, however, American intervention had turned the tide, and the war was won by November. In the beginning of the war the British army, including reserves and territorial forces (a local militia) totaled 733,514. When the armistice was signed in November 1918 there were 1,794,000 British soldiers on the western front alone. Throughout the war there had been over 8 million enlistments from all theaters. The army in France had reached a maximum strength of over 2 million, and during the entire war, nearly 5.5 million had served there. In January 1918 the British infantry in France totaled 1,750,729. British casualties were three-fourths of a million dead and another 1.5 million badly wounded.39 Following the war a Committee on the Organization of the After War Army emerged under Lt. Gen. Sir Alexander Hamilton-Gordon. The committee report, which was to be one of many in the interwar period, assumed that in any future continental war conscription would again be available.40 But whether or not there would be a British expeditionary force for the continent became a strategic question much debated in the interwar period. THE UNITED STATES The United States had the advantage of observing the French and British experience before entering the war in April 1917. This lead time failed to prevent similar problems from arising. An experience parallel to those of

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the British and French began to unfold in America. The political pressure that led to conscription came from the upper classes and outside of the administration. Although propagated as a democratic solution to the problem of national defense, conscription originated from a select, elite class and gained mass support only later. In America the men with new ideas about mobilization, about how a modern state needed to prepare itself for war, were mainly civilians. Structural changes in American society at the turn of the century had produced a new elite consisting of industrialists, corporation leaders, publishers, university presidents, and others who took a modern view of the world. Products themselves of these new forces, they played an important role in preparedness. Although they supported President Woodrow Wilson’s call for neutrality, they also favored a more aggressive posture by the nation. Largely anglophiles, they promoted a foreign policy in keeping with the new power of the nation. They saw the call for volunteers as antiquated, as inefﬁcient as the American marketplace before the coming of the corporation and trust.41 Men such as Teddy Roosevelt, Leonard Wood, Elihu Root, Henry Stimson, and Augustus P. Gardner formed a National Security League to promote the implementation of their ideas. J. P. Morgan, Henry Frick, and Bernard Baruch all contributed to the creation of the Military Training Camps Association to encourage training for the upper class. These men advocated universal military training as a weapon to weld the disparate elements in America together, to remake ethnic minorities, and to control social discontent. Military training camps were envisioned as schoolhouses for citizenship, promoting self-discipline, obedience, and efﬁciency.42 Using local chambers of commerce and other business organizations, plus educators and clergy, the elite began selling universal military training in 1916. When the response proved poor, the men turned to advocating a military draft if the nation went to war. Conscription, they argued, was both fair and efﬁcient. It was fair because it required that all eligible men play a part, and not just the patriotic volunteer. Its efﬁciency sprang from the predictability of manpower deliveries and the end of reckless volunteering by essential workers. Historian John Chambers also argues that the draft developed because of “the growth of an industrial economy and a heterogeneous, multi-ethnic society, the development of intensiﬁed concepts of nationalism and national citizenship and the emergence of a modern and more acceptable activist state in the progressive era.” In his view, the draft “stood as a victory for the values of a cosmopolitan urban-industrial elite over rural-agrarian traditions.”43 However inevitable it may now seem, the adoption of an American draft, like the British draft, had to wait upon an experiment with mass volunteering. The rural concept of minutemen rushing to the colors in an emergency was not so easily dismissed despite the new urban-industrial reality. President Wilson issued a neutrality proclamation when war began in 1914.

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But a series of events, mainly the unrestricted submarine warfare by the Germans and the pro-British disposition of the public and the Department of State, drew the United States closer to belligerent status. American preparedness proceeded slowly, with conscription one of the more delicate issues to consider.44 In April 1914 Congress had passed the Hay Bill, which identiﬁed the land forces of the nation as consisting of the regulars, organized land militia, and volunteers. The law permitted the president to call for volunteers only after congressional authorization and required that he ﬁrst accept any organized militia units that volunteered. In November 1915 Wilson called for an expansion of the regular army (RA) by one-third, from 108,000 to 142,000. Acting on the advice of Secretary of War Lindley M. Garrison, Wilson also called for a national reserve force of 400,000 men. Volunteers would submit to two months of summer training for three consecutive years and be subject to call-up. As Wilson later remarked in his annual message to Congress, America had to defend itself “without calling our people away from their necessary tasks to render compulsory military service in time of peace.”45 The preparedness elite supported this program, but strong opposition by friends of the National Guard led Wilson to back down. At this point, in June 1916, Representative James Hay of Virginia took the initiative with what eventually became the National Defense Act. This broad law provided for expanding the RA to 175,000, identiﬁed an army of the United States consisting of the regulars, the volunteers, and the National Guard, created an enlisted reserve for the RA, and replaced the idea of a continental army reserve with an expanded National Guard. The law also asserted the principle of militia service among all able-bodied males, aged 18 to 45. Finally, the measure empowered the president to use a draft to ﬁnd men for militia units if volunteers failed to appear.46 Volunteers did fail to appear, which was no surprise to General Hugh Scott, the Chief of Staff. Scott insisted “the volunteer system does not and probably will not give us either the men we need for training in peace or for service in war.” He began writing his own bill to ensure a ﬁghting army. On 17 January the War Department, now led by Newton Baker, offered a plan to create a national army over ﬁve years. After a botched mobilization of the National Guard in 1916 to handle unrest on the Mexican border— where many units proved understaffed, ill-equipped, and ill-trained—Wilson and others became convinced that only conscription could ﬁll the new reserve units.47 By 1 April 1917 with America’s entry into the war only ﬁve days away, the RA consisted of 133,111 ofﬁcers and men. In Europe, armies of millions struggled for decision. If the United States expected to play a decisive role, it needed a much bigger army. The preparedness elite called for an immediate draft, but still President Wilson delayed. Strong opposition to con-

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scription remained. Some claimed it violated the tradition of the mythical minuteman, but labor unions, including the Workers of the World and the American Federation of Labor, also opposed the idea. Agrarians, paciﬁsts, women’s organizations, and socialists joined them. Echoing their British brethren, these opponents insisted conscription “ran counter to American values of individual initiative and freedom.”48 Both Wilson and Baker wished to exhaust possibilities of volunteering before adopting an institution that had caused riots in the Civil War. In late March, when Wilson ﬁnally signaled Baker to proceed with a conscription bill, his motives were mixed. He agreed with the argument that a draft would ensure minimum disturbance to the industrial and social fabric of the nation. But he also seems to have been moved by a desire to avoid using cavalier volunteer units, such as the one being raised by Teddy Roosevelt, who dreamed of another charge at San Juan Hill.49 When the United States ﬁnally adopted conscription in May 1917, planners were able to structure a draft that partially avoided the incoherence of both French and British mobilization. These European countries had failed to realize the necessity of coordinating military conscription with general manpower requirements. Essential industry and personnel needed some protection from the exhaustive and automatic induction of personnel into the armed forces.50 In France, after years of a system that provided liberal deferment to many privileged elements of society, the entire thrust of reform after 1900 was to ensure everyone served, which was precisely the wrong approach in modern war. The last reform in 1913 merely extended the tour of service from two to three years and ignored deferments. Hence France found itself forced to adopt a more selective draft on the run. Over one-fourth of its entire teaching population was called up, and one in four died. Some 54 percent of its industry had to close because of the loss of key personnel. France’s engineers and machinists had to be recalled from front-line units. This was hardly an example of Gallic logic.51 In contrast, the United States identiﬁed the connection between military and industrial manpower early on. The elite lobby, which pushed conscription, was keenly aware of the need for efﬁcient, selective management of manpower in an age where both the civilian economy and the armed forces had moved to a higher level of operation. Professionalization had occurred in both areas.52 The man who wrote the American draft bill was Ernest H. Crowder, a lawyer and West Point graduate. Despite being a professional soldier, Crowder was politically acute and sensitive to the conﬂicting pressure of efﬁciency and fairness. Any attempt to provide blanket deferments for skilled workers guaranteed political opposition as undemocratic. The system of selective service, a term coined by Newton Baker, reﬂected the Civil War experience and the Oakes Report. Crowder argued that the War Department should avoid direct responsibility. His bill called for a national

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headquarters to supervise a system of local draft boards that were to be staffed by local civilian elites. In contrast to both France and Britain, the American draft was to be under local civilian control and selective in principle but with a legal prohibition against class and group deferments.53 The United States declared war on 6 April 1917, and Congress began immediately to debate the Selective Service bill. Congressmen authorized the expansion of the regular army to 298,000, the National Guard to 440,000, and the draft of 500,000 men between ages 19 and 25 into a new national army. The men drafted were to serve for the duration; bounties or substitutes were prohibited. Various interest groups demanded special consideration in the bill, and Baker promised recognition for farm labor and reassured southerners that race relations would remain unchanged by the draft. Ofﬁcials told labor leaders that unions were safe, and skilled workers were eligible for deferments. Congress provided exemptions in the law for ministers and divinity students. The conscientious objector was entitled to noncombat service. The president was authorized to defer men who were essential to the national economy or health.54 The various concessions offered by the administration, together with the decentralized, civilian character of the system and an elaborate appeal system, guaranteed passage of the bill. A conference committee raised draft liability to ages 21–30 and allowed the president to accept volunteer units. The vote, according to one scholar, indicated a split between urban and rural, isolationist and internationalist, with the draft a triumph for the new urban-industrial elite over agrarianism. Wilson signed the measure on 18 May 1917 and established a national registration day of 5 June. He said selection would come from “a nation which has volunteered in mass.”55 Before the ﬁrst calls, both the regular army and the National Guard took advantage of the threat by recruiting almost 700,000 volunteers, most of them potential draftees. On 5 June 1917 some 10 million men appeared to be registered. After assigning the men numbers, Selective Service held a lottery to determine the order of draft call. The ﬁrst quota of 687,000 draftees was for 1 September 1917. Some 3 million men were eventually called in 1917, but one-third were turned away for physical and other reasons. About 500,000 actually entered the service as draftees in 1917.56 The administration of the draft proved surprisingly efﬁcient, given its uniqueness. Calls were apportioned among the states, which received credits for their volunteers. Local board members, civilian volunteers ineligible for the draft, handled 70 cases a day. Local communities sponsored parades to send the draftees off to war. The men who left were almost all single, and 70 percent were former manual laborers. In contrast to the Civil War experience, where the draft merely spurred the recruitment of volunteers, the American army in World War I was a conscripted force. The Selective Service System provided 3.5 million draftees, or 72 percent of the armed

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39

forces. On 15 December 1917 the government ofﬁcially ended all volunteer enlistments for those eligible for the draft.57 Although the draft system proved its effectiveness in World War I, the military staff continued to debate how to utilize such masses most effectively. One group, following the reasoning of Emory Upton, a 19th-century military writer, insisted upon a cadre-conscript model, much like the system that was adopted by the French in the interwar period. In this scheme, a core of regular troops served as the training and organization base through which draftees became effective soldiers. Another group of American ofﬁcers, led by Col. John M. Palmer and Henry Stimson, clung to the citizensoldier idea by arguing for the formation of units mobilized, organized, and trained as all-draftees.58 The debate continued through the 1920s. When the guns ﬁnally fell silent on 11 November 1918 the fruits of conscription appeared. Despite the advances in military technology, quantity had still been crucial in the conﬂict. But technology had taken a dreadful toll. As Eugen Weber writes with terrible simplicity, the war began in August 1914 and “for ﬁfty-one months thereafter, 1,000 Frenchmen were killed day after day.” Some one in ﬁve of all mobilized, 10.5 percent of the active French male population, 1.4 million lost their lives. Half of the 6.5 million surviving had been injured in some way, with 1.1 million carrying the label “mutile´s.”59 In Britain three-quarters of a million were dead, or 9 percent of all men under 45. Another 1.5 million were badly hurt. The United States had suffered 115,000 dead and 206,000 wounded.60 The lessons of the war ﬁlled libraries. Scholars wrote of the implications for the economy, for society, for the military. In France, leaders became committed to the defense and to the need to mobilize totally in any future conﬂict. In Britain and the United States, conscription ended with the war, but it would be back.61 NOTES 1. For a sociological overview see Margaret Levi, “The Institution of Conscription,” Social Science History 20 (Spring 1996): 133–167. 2. See George Q. Flynn, “Conscription and Equity in Western Democracies, 1940–1975,” Journal of Contemporary History 33 (January 1998): 5–20. 3. U.S. Statutes at Large, 54 Stat. 1940, p. 885; National Service Act, 1 September 1939, in Law Reports Statutes, 1939, 3 September 1939, 2–4 George VI, vol. 2, pp. 1140–1141; Code du service national (Journal ofﬁciel de la Republique franc¸aise, 1989), p. 6, Art. L. 1. 4. For U.S. law of 1917 see John W. Chambers, ed., Draftees or Volunteers: A Documentary History of the Debate over Military Conscription in the United States, 1787–1973 (New York: Garland, 1975), pp. 267–276, or John O’ Sullivan and Alan M. Meckler, eds., The Draft and Its Enemies: A Documentary History (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1974), pp. 123–127; for British law of 1939

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see Statutes 2 & 3 Geo. 6, c. 24, 25, p. 156, 26 May 1939, and ibid., c. 80, 81, p. 1140, 3 September 1939; for the French code see Code du service national, 1989. 5. Arpad Kovacs, “French Military Legislation in the Third Republic: 1871– 1940,” Military Affairs 13 (1949): 1. 6. Ibid., pp. 1–3; Jean-Charles Jauffret, “L’Arme´e de me´tier: Un sie`cle de debats, 1871–1972,” in Bernard Boene & Michel L. Martin, eds., Conscription et arme´e de me´tier (Paris: FEDN, 1991), p. 220. 7. Robert A. Doughty, The Seeds of Disaster: The Development of French Army Doctrine, 1919–1939 (Hamden, Conn.: Archon, 1985), p. 15. 8. Elisabeth Kier, Imagining War: French and British Military Doctrine between the Wars (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997), p. 112; Doughty, Seeds, p. 14. 9. Kier, Imagining, p. 74; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” pp. 6, 8. 10. Robert O. Paxton, Parades and Politics at Vichy: The French Ofﬁcer Corps under Marshal Petain (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), p. 18; Doughty, Seeds, pp. 15–16, 43. 11. Paxton, Parades, pp. 1, 17, 19; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” p. 8. 12. Quote from Maurice Faivre, Les Nations arme´es de la guerre des peuples a` la guerre des etoiles (Paris: FEDN, 1988), p. 116; Jauffret, “L’Arme´e de me´tier,” p. 208. 13. Jauffret, “L’Arme´e de metier,” p. 208; Faivre, Les Nations, pp. 121–122. 14. Favire, Les Nations, p. 126n; Richard D. Challener, The French Theory of the Nation in Arms, 1866–1939 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955), pp. 60, 61, 63; A. Constantini, “L’Institution de service militaire obligatoire et ses re´percussions sur L’arme´e et la nation,” Revue Internationale d’histoire militaire 55 (1983): 159; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” pp. 6, 9–10; Paxton, Parades, p. 18. 15. Quoted in Challener, French Theory, p. 59n. 16. Ibid., pp. 92, 94; M. Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes to the Army’s Role in French Society,” British Journal of Sociology 15 (December 1964): 347; Faivre, Les Nations, pp. 110, 120, 124n. 17. Brian Bond, “Demography and War: A Military Historian’s Perspective,” in Lawrence Freedman & John Saunders, eds., Demography and War: A Military Historian’s Perspective (London: Brassey’s, 1992), pp. 198–199, 201; Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), II: 141; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” pp. 1, 9–10; Anthony Adamthwaite, France and the Coming of the Second World War, 1936–1939 (London: F. Cass, 1977), p. 6; Doughty, Seeds, p. 15; Fiche no. 1, September 1939, 6T296 E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre (EMAT), 1o Bureau, Archives de Militaire, Chaˆteau Vincennes, Paris (hereafter cited as AMCV). 18. Faivre, Les Nations, p. 118; Kovacs, “Military Legislation,” pp. 11, 13; Doughty, Seeds, pp. 3, 16; Kier, Imagining, p. 78. 19. Stephen Deakin, “The British Army: The State, Politics and Society,” in Lynton Robbins, ed., Political Institutions in Britain (New York: Longman, 1987), pp. 246–247; quote in Kier, Imagining, p. 112, also p. 111; R.J.Q. Adams & P. P.

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Poirier, The Conscription Controversy in Great Britain, 1900–1918 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1987), p. 24. 20. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, p. 56. 21. Brian Bond, British Military Policy between the Two World Wars (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), p. 23; Adams & Poirier, Conscription, p. 68. 22. Levi, “Institution,” p. 137; Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 60, 68. 23. See http://www.worldwar1.com/biockit.htm for print. 24. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 56–57, 60–61, 65, 68; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 148; F. W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organization in Two World Wars (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), pp. 10, 19; H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), p. 1; Glenn A. Steppler, Britons, to Arms! (Gloucestershire: Sutton, 1992), p. 44. 25. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 57, 61; Levi, “Institution,” p. 137. 26. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 24, 26; Edward R. Cain, “Conscientious Objection in France, Britain, and the United States,” Comparative Politics 2 (January 1970): 287; Perry, Commonwealth, p. 7; Bond, British Military Policy, p. 3. 27. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, p. 62. 28. Perry, Commonwealth, p. 17; Adams & Poirier, Conscription, p. 62. 29. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 26, 65. A recent survey is John Keegan, The First World War (New York: Knopf, 1998). 30. For the gruesome combat of the war, see especially: Alistair Horne, The Price of Glory (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1963); Paul Fussell, The Great War and Modern Memory (New York: Oxford University Press, 1975); Lyn MacDonald, Somme (London: Penguin, 1983); Richard Holmes, Acts of War (New York: Free Press, 1985); and Samuel Hynes, The Soldiers’ Tale: Bearing Witness to Modern War (New York: Penguin, 1997). 31. Quoted in Adams & Poirier, Conscription, p. 95. 32. Challener, French Theory, p. 92. 33. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 17, 20, 22, 47; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 152–153. 34. Gerald Whiteley, “The British Experience with Peacetime Conscription,” Army Quarterly and Defense Journal 117 (July 1987): 319; Adams & Poirier, Conscription, p. 17; George Dangerﬁeld, The Strange Death of Liberal England (New York: H. Smith & R. Haas, 1935). 35. Perry, Commonwealth, pp. 16, 27, 37, 216–217, 226. By November 1918 the total British army strength stood at 3,759,471. 36. Perry, Commonwealth, pp. 16, 18; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 153. 37. Perry, Commonwealth, pp. 24–25. 38. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 1, 73, 88–92; Perry, Commonwealth, pp. 18, 23, 25, 30; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” II: 153. 39. Perry, Commonwealth, pp. 27, 226; Bond, British Military Policy, pp. 3, 10. 40. Bond, British Military Policy, p. 23. 41. See John W. Chambers II, To Raise an Army: The Draft Comes to Modern America (New York: Free Press, 1987), p. 118. 42. Walter Millis, Arms and Men: A Study of American Military History (New York: Putnam, 1956), p. 221; Chambers, To Raise, p. 118; Michael Pearlman’s To

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Make Democracy Safe for America: Patricians and Preparedness in the Progressive Era (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1984) is the standard treatment. 43. Quotes from Chambers, To Raise, pp. 174, 177. 44. For America’s entry into the war see especially: Ross Gregory, The Origins of American Intervention in the First World War (New York: Norton, 1971) and D. M. Smith, The Great Departure (New York: Wiley, 1965). For the war in general see Graham Darby, The Origins of the First World War (London: Longman, 1998) and Donald Kagan, On the Origins of War and the Preservation of Peace (London: Pimlico, 1997). 45. Quoted in Millis, Arms, p. 215. 46. Ibid., p. 220. 47. Ibid., quote p. 232, p. 230. 48. Faivre, Les Nations, p. 124n; quote from Chambers, To Raise, p. 107. Organized labor had representation on district exemption boards. See Albert A. Blum & J. D. Smyth, “Who Should Serve: Pre–World War II Planning for Selective Service,” Journal of Economic History 30 (February 1970): 391. 49. Chambers, To Raise, p. 135. 50. Perry, Commonwealth, p. 36; Faivre, Les Nations, p. 115. 51. Eugen J. Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930’s (New York: Norton, 1994), p. 20; Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es, Paris (hereafter cited as SIRPA) dossier Service National, p. 1; Christophe Prochasson, “Les Grandes dates de l’histoire de la conscription: De la milice au service national,” Revue histoire des arme´es 2 (1982): 69; Faivre, Les Nations, p. 110; Challener, French Theory, p. 92. 52. Jacques van Doorn, The Soldier and Social Change (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1975), p. 19. 53. See Chambers, To Raise, p. 135; “Lecture by Hugh S. Johnson,” 20 October 1939, National Archives, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as NA), Box 2, Record Group (hereafter cited as RG), pp. 147–197; Edward A. Fitzpatrick, “The Volunteer and the Conscript in American Military History,” Current History 38 (1 April 1960): 209. 54. Chambers, To Raise, pp. 153–167. 55. Quote in Millis, Arms, p. 233; Chambers, To Raise, p. 174. 56. For operation of the draft see Chambers, To Raise, chap. 7. 57. Ibid. 58. Robert K. Grifﬁth, Jr., “About Face? The U.S. Army and the Draft,” Armed Forces and Society 12 (Fall 1985): 110; John S. Brown, “Draftee Division: A Study of the 88th Infantry Division, First All-Selective Service Div. into Combat in W.W. II” (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1983), p. 19; Minutes of conference on personnel mobilization problems, 18 September 1922, RG 147–197, Box 1, NA. 59. Weber, Hollow, pp. 11–12; Bond, “Demography,” p. 200. 60. Bond, British Military Policy, p. 10; Bond, “Demography,” p. 199. 61. Doughty, Seeds, p. 15; Faivre, Les Nations, pp. 101, 110; Bernard Boene, “Nonmilitary Functions of the Military in a Democratic State: The French Case,” in Daniella Ashkenazy, ed., The Military in the Service of Society and Democracy (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1994), p. 112.

Chapter 4

1920 to 1945 In dealing with the events from 1920 to 1940, the three democracies displayed a similar reluctance to adopt a rigorous peacetime conscription system. During the 1920s a paciﬁst mood prevailed. With the crash and the depression following 1929, domestic economic priorities ensured that military manpower received scant attention. When the war ﬁnally came—in September 1939 to England and France and in December 1941 to the United States—conscription once again provided the men for ﬁghting. GREAT BRITAIN In England the interwar period witnessed confusion about the future mission and the future size of the British army. Although World War I had been won with conscript armies, the public remained skeptical. The government had to fulﬁll its treaty and occupation commitments, but on 30 April 1920 conscription was ended, and the traditional separation from the continent reasserted itself. Military leaders operated on reduced budgets with the assumption that the next major war could not occur for 10 years. The priorities of British defense policy shifted away from neighboring shores and toward far-ﬂung imperial duties. Since the army assumed an inferior role to the navy in the empire, budgets were adjusted accordingly. Army budgets dropped from around £94 million in 1921 to £42.5 million in 1926 and continued to decline until the 1930s. The army size dropped from a 1919 strength of about 2 million to 231,062 in 1922 and to 207,537 by 1931.1 These reductions occurred with the full awareness that such a reduced force could play no role in a European conﬂict. The Committee on Imperial Defense acknowledged in 1922 that such a conﬂict

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would require a British army of over 750,000, a force that could not be created without conscription. Voluntary recruitment in the 1920s was hardly sufﬁcient to maintain even the reduced army. Any talk of adopting a peacetime draft met opposition from the growing paciﬁst movement in Britain and the empire-ﬁrst gang.2 By 1926 the army’s mission looked fairly limited. But there seemed to be some confusion over how the mission was to be calibrated. As one report stated: “The size of the forces of the Crown maintained by Great Britain is governed by various conditions peculiar to each service, and is not arrived at by any calculations of the requirements of foreign policy, not [sic] it is possible that they ever should be so calculated.” This was nonsense, of course, but the report went on to confess that “though the Expeditionary Force, together with a limited number of Air Force Squadrons, constitute the only military instrument available for immediate use in Europe or elsewhere outside imperial territory in support of foreign policy, they are so available only when the requirements of Imperial defence so permit.”3 For the government and the military staff, the army’s missions in order of priority were: ﬁrst, defense at home; next, defense of imperial post; and ﬁnally, intervention on the continent. As for this last priority, the Chiefs of Staff insisted that any such commitment could only be noted rather than acted upon. “The despatch of our small expeditionary forces to a Continental theatre of war can never be more than a pledge of our readiness to fulﬁll our guarantees.” By the mid-1920s British military and civilian leaders were satisﬁed with this vision to maintain the Treaty of Versailles that England had helped to create and to which it was pledged with France to uphold.4 Such an attitude seemed doomed to collapse before a vigorous assertion of German power, but British leaders had their reasons for adopting what became known as limited liability for the continent. England had prospered in the past by limiting its commitments to diplomatic, naval, and ﬁnancial pressure. Although World War I had launched a new age of conﬂict with weapons of great range and total mobilization, the traditional view of limited involvement remained popular. This was especially the case after evaluating the human cost of throwing a huge expeditionary force onto continental battleﬁelds. Besides the pressure of tradition, the British also clearly understood that in any major conﬂict their great card was the power of the empire that could be brought to bear through its unparalleled navy. But sea power required a long, slow war. In the long run, Britain would always win. In the short run it must protect its industrial base at home and maintain its ﬁnancial stability. To rush into a mobilization requiring millions of young men to leave jobs for training camps was to court economic disaster. This thinking was most fully articulated by Neville Chamberlain, both as chan-

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45

cellor of the exchequer and as prime minister. It proved durable despite the unnerving events occurring in Germany. The world created by the Treaty of Versailles began crumbling in 1929 with the advent of the stock market crash in the United States. The impact of this collapse upon European economies, never fully recovered from the war, ushered in a worldwide depression. In Germany the crisis contributed to the rise of a National Socialist Party under Adolf Hitler (January 1933). The main ambition of Hitler was to render the terms of the Treaty of Versailles null and void. His task was made easier by the default of Great Britain from its responsibility as defender of the status quo on the continent. France, faced with the prospect of a resurgent and revengeful Germany, scurried around seeking allies in Eastern Europe to contain the new menace. Such efforts only reinforced the British decision not to give binding commitments to a France that might be pushed into war by distant affairs in the Balkans. Hitler proceeded to leave a disarmament conference (October 1933), reintroduce conscription in Germany, denounce the treaty clause on German disarmament (March 1935), and reoccupy the Rhineland (March 1936). While these events caused consternation in France, the British government responded with traditional phlegm. Although few British military leaders seriously believed they could avoid a continental commitment in response to a German push against France, they had little impact on policy. Any move to build up the army required conscription, which was impossible under the priorities established by the government.5 The military recognized by 1933 that Hitler and Germany represented the major threat to peace. The growth in the destructive power of the air force also caused concern. If Germany controlled the Low Countries, its potential for air attacks on Britain would be enhanced immeasurably. This new strategic awareness, however, only led to an emphasis on air defense more than to intervention on the continent. Since building up a strategic air arm meshed with political interest in spending defense funds parsimoniously, these new strategic insights sat well with the government’s approach to any future conﬂict. Limited liability, with an emphasis on airpower and air defense, became entrenched as policy.6 Conscription remained far from British minds. When Hitler assumed power the British discarded the old rule of 10 years before the next war, but little else changed. Priorities remained the Far East and India before Europe. A Defence Requirements Committee, appointed with the rise of Hitler, spoke of the need to consider more forcefully a continental commitment. The idea that France could accept less than an expeditionary force to contain Hitler seemed far-fetched. But the Chiefs of Staff themselves were divided over a commitment to a large expeditionary force, and their doubts were reinforced by military publicists such as Cap-

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tain B. H. Liddell-Hart, who detested conscription and placed his faith in small, mobile forces.7 When Neville Chamberlain assumed the prime ministership in May 1937 the policy of limited liability reached its apogee. Chamberlain had argued earlier, as chancellor of the exchequer, that ﬁnance was the most important defense variable. Now he went about proving it. Priorities were given to home defense, empire, and continent. Liddell-Hart became adviser to Secretary of War Leslie Hore-Belisha, and the continental commitment was reduced to only two divisions. Concern with growing German airpower led to the idea that the army’s main role should be air defense. The prime minister had said privately in 1936: In the event of another war, “I believe our resources will be more proﬁtably employed in the air, and on the sea, than in building up great armies.”8 Then, in March 1938, Hitler occupied Austria (Anschluss) and began threatening Czechoslovakia. Besides worrying about channel ports, the British now had to contend with the fear that France might do a deal with Germany. British policy had earlier assumed that France, without continental commitments from England, was willing to contain Germany. Chamberlain even suggested, after the Anschluss, that offering the French a commitment higher than two divisions might discourage it from ﬁnishing the Maginot Line. Because the French also wished desperately to avoid a war, with or without British aid, the scene was set for the Munich Conference of October 1938, where both governments forced Czechoslovakia to cede the Sudetenland to Germany.9 Before the Munich crisis Chamberlain was being coy with his French ally. When Alfred Duff Cooper, ﬁrst lord of the admiralty, remarked that British policy of stressing air defense and only two divisions to the continent would do little to reassure the French in the event of a German attack, Chamberlain replied that his objective was not so much to reassure them as to put the British in the “best position to discharge their treaty obligations,” whatever that meant. The treaty obligations of the British to the French in the event of a German attack were vague. The Treaty of Versailles had stated that Britain was to come to the aid of France if attacked by Germany, and the Locarno Treaty of October 1925 had offered a guarantee of the French-German border. But there was no mention of the exact form British aid or guarantees would take. As late as 31 October 1938 British conscription remained questionable.10 The French had been pleading with the British to adopt conscription as a symbol of their determination to ﬁght the Germans, even offering the use of the French military academy of Saint-Cyr for training and instructions on how to operate conscription. The French belabored Ambassador Sir Eric C. Phipps about the necessity of this step. Phipps became convinced that without such a gesture the French might well take the easy road of additional appeasement. To this pressure was added the distant voice of Pres-

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ident Franklin Roosevelt of the United States. While America itself moved slowly to preparedness, Roosevelt urged Chamberlain to adopt conscription as a measure of support for the French.11 The decision by Hitler in March 1939 to violate the Munich accord and to absorb the rest of Czechoslovakia changed everything. Hitler had administered a diplomatic slap in the face to the British prime minister. Chamberlain reacted by revising the policy of limited liability. On 27 April 1939 he announced a new policy that included the introduction of conscription. The prime minister had been unmoved by German rearmament, by the threat to channel ports, by the desperate request of the French, and by the polite inquiries of President Roosevelt. British public opinion had long since accepted the need for such a move, but now Chamberlain acted mainly from personal pique at being “spurned like a lover” by Adolf Hitler’s violation of his pledge at Munich.12 The British military played a limited role in the move to conscription, despite being well aware of the inadequacies of two or even six divisions for a continental intervention and the shortage of volunteers. When conscription had ended in March 1920, the army returned to its traditional voluntary recruitment system, which provided adequate forces during the decade of the 1920s. But by the 1930s recruitment was down to about 60 percent of the annual need. Some 42,000 men per year were needed after 1935, but the intake was only 28,000.13 Such shortages had been unimportant given the limited role projected for the army in Chamberlain’s concept of limited liability, but now, in the early months of 1939, the scenario began to change. In mid-January 1939, the Chiefs of Staff conceded that peacetime conscription was impossible, but General John S. Gort and Admiral Roger Backhouse argued that one could not ﬁght Germany in a limited way. The government believed that a German attack on Holland should be a trigger for war, but protecting Dutch ports required a continental army. The Chiefs also recognized that France might easily concede to German pressure without a stronger British army in the ofﬁng. On 8 March Minister of War Hore-Belisha announced in the Commons that the War Ofﬁce (WO) proposed an expeditionary force of 19 divisions. But where were the men?14 On 15 March Hitler grabbed the rest of Czechoslovakia and began menacing Poland. Chamberlain reversed his course and by the end of the month joined France in guaranteeing the borders of Poland. His move to conscription remained hesitant, however, as witness his enthusiasm for an idea proposed by Hore-Belisha of doubling the Territorial Army through volunteers. Although the General Staff recognized the importance of expansion, given the new mission and diplomatic commitments, there was decided lack of enthusiasm for growth through the Territorials or even for conscription. Such plans required a diversion of professional strength into training. General Henry Pownall, director of military operations at the

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WO, expressed it resentfully: “What an unholy mess our politicians have made of the rebirth of the army through shortsightedness, unwillingness to face facts and prejudice against the army.” In fact, the army had itself to blame for refusing to press strongly for the contingency of a strong continental force and bowing meekly to Chamberlain’s limited liability.15 Similar to the American military establishment, the British staff much preferred to use volunteers. Little military lobbying for a draft had occurred.16 When on 20 April the prime minister proposed peacetime conscription, he stressed that it was only to supplement a vigorous voluntary recruitment effort. Supplement or not, the French were overjoyed. In the traditional military parade on Bastille Day (14 July 1939) the crowd roared at the appearance of British Guardsmen striding down the Champs-E´lyse´es. Churchill, in the reviewing stand, muttered to a companion: “Thank God we’ve got conscription or we couldn’t look these people in the face.”17 Britain initially tried to capitalize on the threat of conscription as a means of ﬁlling the ranks with recruits. Yet the voluntary system had proved time and again to be an inadequate and inefﬁcient tool for raising troops. When times were good the few who entered were of marginal quality, and when times were bad, the quality rose very little. The entire system worked against the efﬁcient mobilization of the economy and society for war. Compulsory service was the answer.18 Although the British adopted conscription with reluctance, once committed to this course, the government and the military put together a system that worked very well. The British were able to mobilize a higher percentage of their manpower and womanpower for war and war industry than either the United States or France. Their armed forces at the end of the war in Europe totaled 4,653,000 out of a population (Northern Ireland included) of 48,995,000. By June 1943, of a total male working population (aged 14 to 64) of 15,032,000, some 4,300,000 were in the armed forces and another 173,000 were in civil defense and auxiliary services. The Ministry of Labour and National Service (MLNS) operated conscription in close coordination with the armed forces. There were close calls, threatened shortages, and revised ceilings throughout the war. But when Britain emerged victorious, it was in some measure because it had more than muddled through the difﬁcult task of modern conscription.19 The ﬁrst task in operating conscription was to determine the needs of the armed forces, particularly the army. The size of the army ﬂuctuated according to such variables as strategy, projected wastage (including casualties and misﬁts), and mission. In 1939 the prewar British armed forces totaled 465,000, including 221,813 in the army.20 By the end of 1940 there were over 2,500,000 men in the armed forces and 1,128,000 in the army. By 1945 the armed forces totaled 4,653,000 and the army 2,920,000.21 This huge increase was achieved despite some initial confusion. Like generals everywhere, British military leaders felt that their task was but to

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demand men, and the civilian authority, in this case, the MLNS, was to provide the bodies. Brigadier A.J.K. Pigott of the WO informed the MLNS that the army expected to absorb 350,000 more men by the end of March 1941 and 650,000 from March 1941 to October 1941. These ﬁgures required additional registration of British youth.* The MLNS felt conﬁdent it could meet such demands but worried that the army was grabbing ﬁgures out of the air, for example, using wastage rates that ignored the effect of future intensive combat. In truth, from September 1940 to March 1941 army calls became some 50 percent higher than promised and approved by the War Cabinet.22 This created a small crisis in manpower. The armed forces wanted just fewer than 4.4 million men by the end of 1941. The MLNS now informed the army that existing sources would dry up by March 1941 at current rate of inductions. Sir William Beveridge, an ofﬁcial in MLNS, insisted that ﬁlling such calls required that women be conscripted into war work, as 500,000 male deferments in war industry would have to be canceled to meet army calls. At this point Prime Minister Winston Churchill, who replaced Chamberlain on 10 May 1940, entered the fray.23 The days when the military could simply demand men and expect its demands to be met were now to end. The War Cabinet had learned in October 1940 that manpower sources were failing fast. It was in this context that action was taken in February 1941. The War Cabinet decided to have the MLNS and the WO work together at a revised ﬁgure for intake to September 1941. More important, the entire focus of manpower supplies shifted. To meet the needs of both the armed forces and war industry, the deferment system turned away from deferring entire classes to deferring individuals.** The prime minister now insisted that the army accept a ﬁrm numeric ceiling, initially set at 2,195,000 men. Instead of just taking men willy-nilly, the army had to be satisﬁed with what was available. First, the supply of manpower was to be established, then the army could adapt its demands accordingly.24 The formula seemed reasonable, but the reality of war soon forced revisions. Although the Royal Navy and the Royal Air Force remained satisﬁed with their allotments, the army kept increasing in strength. As the British engaged the enemy on land in Asia and North Africa, the army’s needs began to grow. With the attack on Pearl Harbor, the army immediately called for an upward revision of its strength. A new ceiling of 2,374,800 was reached in May 1942, and General P. J. Grigg put “on record the excellent cooperation and help received from the Minister of Labour [Ernest Bevin].” But then Grigg let the other shoe fall. He insisted that “it is . . . considered essential that we should be allowed to take in as *For the operational details of the British draft, see Chapter 6. **For details on British deferments, see Chapter 7.

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many men as the Ministry of Labour can give us in spite of the fact that we have reached our ceiling.” The strategic situation had changed with Japan and America in the war. The British army now had an offensive role on two far-ﬂung fronts. The army ceiling became not a “ﬁxed target” but a moving guide, with men being inducted as they became eligible. The strength rose to 2,523,400.25 Once again the situation became critical. H. N. DeVilliers, deputy minister at MLNS, explained to the army and other services that their demands were now impossible to meet without a drastic reduction of industrial deferments and lowering of draft age. For the year 1943 the ministry established that there were 950,000 men and 650,000 women in the manpower pool. But the combined demands of all services and war industry was for over 2.6 million. Faced with this shortage, Churchill cut the services request but also reduced the age of call-up from 181⁄2 to 18. And still there had to be a severe combing out of industrial deferments. The prime minister also pleaded with the MLNS to ﬁnd an extra 115,000 workers so that air attacks against Germany could be increased. This led to registering women workers up to age 51. In December 1944 the prime minister began reconsidering his cuts of the army because he felt a smaller force in Europe would undermine British weight at the peace settlement.26 By this time the British had reached the limit of their mobilization strength. The army now stood at 2,920,000; the armed forces combined totaled 4,653,000. In 1940 the male population of England, Wales, and Scotland totaled 22,670,000. But the male population at risk for military duty, after excluding youths and the elderly, was much smaller. For example, the male population ages 15 to 50 in 1931 was only 10,455,900.27 Furthermore, the armed forces total of 4,653,000 represented only those still on active duty in early 1945, not counting those who had served and either died or been demobilized already for a variety of reasons. Given these ﬁgures, the British were able to mobilize for uniform duty over 20 percent of their entire male population. This level of mobilization was far beyond that achieved by the United States. Conscription worked for Britain, and conscripts performed well for the British armed forces. In January 1949 Lt. Gen. H. G. Martin observed: “The consensus of opinion is that, in a good unit, the National Serviceman works with a will and enthusiasm unknown either to the pre-war volunteer or the war-time soldier. Indeed, it is the satisfaction they derive from commanding such material that is keeping many ofﬁcers in the service to-day.” From being ﬁrst regarded as a nuisance, the draftee had become essential to the British armed forces.28 FRANCE Scholars continue to debate French military policy during the interwar period. One student avers that “political leaders greatly inﬂuenced the basic

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concepts of army doctrine.”29 Another study concludes that “French civilians [in the interwar period] were not more active in the formation of military doctrine.”30 Still another writes that the French “developed their military doctrines in response to their own requirements and circumstances, not to ﬁt an abstract ideal of ‘modern war.’ ”31 Beyond debate is that like every nation France developed its strategy under a variety of inﬂuences. The ideology of the nation in arms, with the implication of mass conscription, was very much a part of the culture, but so was respect for a professional military that had emerged victorious in World War I. As in England and the United States, the French doctrine reﬂected the political values of the society. Nothing else was possible. The notion that a military caste could draw up a plan for the army in isolation from the greater society is untenable. French political and social values, however, failed to provide a ready-made model of army formation or strategy. The doctrines that France developed during the interwar period were a function of the cauldron of politics and diplomacy. Historical context provides the best guide to understanding the French doctrine and army that went to war on 1 September 1939. One of the most debated issues is why France became committed to a defensive posture in the interwar years. Yet this move seems a clear consequence of World War I. With the end of the war France had suffered 1 million dead, including 10.5 percent of the active male population, and another million wounded or gassed.32 After the war the promised alliance with the United States died in the American Senate, and Britain limited its commitments to the continent. France now faced a vengeful Germany, which had a demographic edge of frightening proportions. In 1910 Germany and France had a ratio of 1.7 to 1 in males aged 20 to 34. By 1920 Germany’s edge was even greater.33 Given these facts, and the great strides in the technology of mass killing, a defensive posture seemed only natural. If France was to ﬁght a defensive war, it meant it must once again count upon mass mobilization and conscription. But the usefulness of conscripts continued to provoke debate among professionals. In the words of one ofﬁcer, short-term draftees were “ready for everything, good at nothing and have an average output that is very low, morose, fussy and passive.”34 Yet this attitude did not mean a rejection of conscription. An army manual on the employment of large units stated that “the very life of the citizenry is associated in an intimate fashion with that of the army, and thus the formula for the nation in arms is realized in every aspect. . . . [This] greatly inﬂuences the eventualities of war and consequently the formulation of strategy.”35 The French never ended conscription after World War I, but more than men were now needed. In the 19th century, when mass manpower played a critical role in victory, conscription could work by merely throwing up thousands of bodies. But as the technology of war became more sophisticated, more training became essential. The experience of World War I,

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which demonstrated the incredible devastation wrought by artillery ﬁre, required that draftees be well trained and well controlled in battle. During the interwar period France viewed its prospects vis-a`-vis Germany in a way that encouraged the development of a highly controlled and drawn-out strategy. Only through such control, through the mobilization of its entire resources, and with aid from its allies could France hope to contain a resurgent Germany. Conscription was essential, but equally essential was a soldier capable of being deployed under tight controls—rather than in brilliant forays. Frenchmen of all political persuasions realized that their mass mobilization had played an important role in allowing them to survive and eventually triumph in World War I. The issue debated after the war was not mass conscription but the length of the tour. The professional military called for a minimum of two years; civilian politicians, conscious of the need for manpower for reconstruction, argued for the shortest tour possible. But the debate over length of the tour was on top of a consensus for a defensive strategy.36 The distinction was important because the decade of the 1920s was soon ﬁlled with such debate. Some scholars have argued that the resolution of this debate in favor of a one-year tour in 1927–1928 prompted the adoption of a defensive strategy by the French military. In fact, the political debate only made the character of that defensive strategy more complex and more difﬁcult to realize in the 1930s. When the war concluded, the term of conscription was changed from the duration of the conﬂict to three years. The need for civilian manpower, however, led to another cut to 18 months on 1 April 1923. How to restructure the army, so that it offered the least costly burden to French society, occupied politicians for the next several years.37 The French general staff, in contrast, entered the decade with a determination to retain as large a professional force as possible and to avoid reliance on a militia reserve. The generals wanted a minimum of two-year service by conscripts. The failure of the United States to ratify the Treaty of Versailles and the “attitude of the British War Minister on the state of UK arms” made French ofﬁcers pessimistic about the Versailles settlement. A staff ofﬁcer wrote in June 1920 that “we need to foresee a military organization such that even if alone, or only with Belgium, we will feel the total weight of war against Germany.” The French staff estimated a need of over 24 divisions as insurance against bad faith by the Germans.38 A total of 509,000 French soldiers, of which 135,000 were enlisted volunteers and 374,000 were conscripts, were needed. In 1920 the French army consisted of 640,874 men. By July 1925 this had been cut to 419,000. And the new political situation dictated a further reduction in manpower. Although a government of national unity had already begun cutting the tour of conscripts, serious reform began only in 1924. Recent elections had generated a majority for a coalition of left-wing parties in the Chamber of

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Deputies. This coalition subscribed to the notion of a nation in arms and to the concept of relying upon a trained militia generated by a short-tour conscription system with a reserve obligation. The military subscribed to the ﬁrst element—the mobilization of the entire nation—but disputed the second. The parlement began debate on a “Loi sur l’organisation de la nation pour le temps de guerre,” which involved total mobilization. This measure continued to be debated until the mid-1930s. More immediately, the parlement moved to reduce the tour of the conscript from 18 months to one year. The reform laws passed in 1927 and 1928 covered a variety of military issues. Echoing the ideology of the nation, the 1928 law began with the phrase “Every [male] French citizen owes personal military service, except for duly established physical incapacity.” The age of induction was raised from 20 to 21, and the tour of duty was cut to 12 months. The nation was divided into 20 military regions and a separate reserve organization created with 495 mobilization centers. In exchange for accepting these reforms the military was guaranteed 106,000 professional positions (although the generals wanted 150,000), and a separate organization was created for the colonial army.40 The results were mixed. The theory of mass mobilization was conﬁrmed. The active army was expected to triple itself in an emergency by calling up the trained reserve, or disponibles. In the meantime neither a mass army nor an effective professional army existed. By 1935 the professional cadre had been cut to 103,000, with a reduced capacity for offensive action. Each year some 220,000 or more draftees entered active duty in two semiannual drafts. The professional cadre spent most of its time training each contingent, but after six months a new contingent arrived and training started over. Another small section of the professional force, not involved in training, manned frontier fortiﬁcations. The cut in tour and the cut in professional cadre offered France a means of utilizing its civilian manpower for economic productivity while still remaining committed to the nation in arms concept. Although the system precluded a ﬁrst-strike capacity, such an option had never been a priority for the French military.41 In subsequent years the 1927–1928 reforms took the form of a crutch for the French military. Everything that went wrong was blamed on these reforms, especially the shortening of the tour. It is difﬁcult, however, to fault the reforms from the perspectives of the 1920s. Although the 150,000 professional force was not realized, there was recognition of 105,000 positions. And the French male faced one of the most lengthy military obligations in the world. While neither the United States nor Britain imposed any required military duty on their citizens, the French male faced 28 years of military obligation: 1 year active duty, 3 years in a ready reserve, 16 years in ﬁrst-line reserves, and 8 years in second-line reserves. Granted that a 1-year tour precluded the use of draftees in specialized units, the draftee

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was still available for recruitment to a longer tour. The size of the army did decline from 640,874 in 1920 to 419,000 in 1925 and to 320,000 in 1933, but France spent a higher percentage of its gross national product on defense than either Britain or Germany.42 In explaining the French military defeat in 1940 a variety of reasons have been advanced, such as low morale, poorly trained soldiers, fragmented command structure, weakness of the Allied coalition, and political intrigue.43 The French army of the 1930s was a creature of national ideology and political culture, shaped by the ever-menacing threat of German revanche. French history ensured that the military doctrine would be defensive, and French ideology promoted the use of a cadre-militia structure. French republican tradition refused to admit the need for an allprofessional force, which alone could provide the power for quick, offensive action. The same tradition, and the World War I experience, promoted the value of the citizen-soldier, trained and in reserve status, as an agent to rescue the nation in peril. These were givens within which the French had to frame a response to growing German power.44 French military preparations functioned within a climate of political hostility and suspicion.45 The Left continued to be suspicious of a professional force and remained wedded to the magic of the citizen-soldier. The augmentation of military strength revolved around debates on several important variables, including defense spending, the age at which conscripts could be called up, the length of their tour, and national ﬁscal integrity. When the economic depression of the 1930s hit France, the ﬁrst cuts were in defense spending. By 1935 this trend was reversed, so that France was again spending more on defense than either Britain or Germany.46 German actions soon forced a reconsideration of French defense planning. Germany introduced conscription on 16 March 1935. This step corresponded with the arrival in France of the so-called hollow years, when the birth deﬁcits caused by World War I showed up in reduced pools of males available for service. A year later, on 7 March 1936, Germany reoccupied the Rhineland, and the Treaty of Versailles was reduced to a piece of historical curiosity. French reaction began with a call for strengthening the professional army. In May 1934 Lt. Col. Charles de Gaulle published his book Vers l’arme´e de me´tier, which laid out the rationale for the creation of six tank divisions consisting of only professional soldiers. Jacques Duboin, deputy of Haute-Savoie, had earlier announced in parlement that a modern army was distinguished by its “smell of petrol; it does not smell of dung.”47 De Gaulle’s call provoked controversy on several levels. He justiﬁed his manifesto by pointing to the poor training of conscripts in the present system and by insisting on the need for more time to train a true citizen-soldier. He then provoked a political controversy by explaining that such a force

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would be useful not merely for international problems but also to handle domestic disorders.48 Although the political Right sympathized with de Gaulle’s notion of a professional force, it also remained committed to the theory of large battalions, which meant conscription. The Left saw such a move as a covert attempt by the high command to ditch conscription. Leon Blum, Socialist leader and prime minister from June 1936 to June 1937, and others felt that elite armored divisions could too readily become “shock troops of a fascist coup.”49 Although the call by de Gaulle had not been supported by the high command, it now served to spur suspicions when the military staff proposed a more moderate series of reforms. The high command began its campaign for reform in 1935. The most urgent issue underlying the move was the relative size of the armed forces of France and Germany. In simple terms, the hollow years meant that the annual number of French draftees, which was normally 230,000, was scheduled to fall to 118,000 by 1936. Germany’s armed force was due to reach 600,000 men in 1936, while France disposed of only 208,000 on active duty, to be reinforced with reservists to 550,000 after three or four days.50 On 8 March 1935 the Minister of War Philippe Petain sent an elaborate memo to Prime Minister Pierre Flandin on what was needed to meet the increased threat posed by a growing German military force. In terms governed by an awareness of the delicate political situation, Petain explained that the high command had decided to implement the provision of the 1928 law that allowed the army to extend by six months the one-year tour of currently serving draftees. Although this step did not require approval by the Chamber of Deputies, the high command insisted that “we do not attack the principle of the law of 1928 in which we continue to base ourselves.”51 General Maurice Gamelin, vice president of the Superior War Council, had also approached the prime minister in February about the need to develop new manpower schemes. As it was hopeless to try to match the Germans draftee for draftee, Gamelin wanted to promote preservice obligatory military training for all youth. He also advanced the idea of expanding the professional component of the army because of the need for well-trained men to handle the new sophisticated engines of war. Critics saw such measures as wedges for an all-professional army, but pressure for reform was building.52 Demographic pressure created by the hollow years, the militarizing of Germany, and the need to reassure Allies all pointed to a revision of the manpower recruitment system. In short order, Petain requested adoption of a two-year tour for new draftees and a lowering of the draft age to 20. Later, on 11 July 1938 a new “Loi sur l’organisation de la nation” imposed military service upon all male residents over 18 years old.53

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In the midst of these reforms, the international scene became more acute. On 7 March 1936 Germany renounced the Locarno Pact and reoccupied the Rhineland. Faced with this unilateral behavior and disregard of treaties, the French government considered strenuous action but faced a problem. Any French military action faced serious structural difﬁculties ﬂowing from ideological and political assumptions. The neutralizing of the military had led to compartmentalization so that the Foreign Ofﬁce, or Quai d’Orsay, had no real feel for French capabilities. In February 1936 the Quai inquired about a military response to German action in the Rhineland. General Gamelin had to explain why such action was impossible. In adopting a cadreconscript model of mobilization and rejecting a special mobilized task force of professionals, the French government had made any quick-acting military response impossible. Gamelin explained: “The Quai d’Orsay must understand that the present organization of our army is such that, without moblization, we can occupy our defensive lines, and stop an attack, but any offensive action in the enemy country is out of the question.” It was general mobilization or nothing, but general mobilization meant war, which was inconceivable without British support.54 In March 1938 Germany again acted unilaterally to annex Austria. The passage of the new French law on military mobilization in July did little to expand the ﬂexibility of the army. The law merely reafﬁrmed and enshrined the cadre-conscript system and convinced military leaders that they must plan to ﬁght a war in the manner of the leve´e en masse. When the Munich accord of October 1938 cut the heart out of the French alliance with Czechoslovakia, General Gamelin again attempted to strengthen the professional contingent of the army by asking for an additional 4,000 ofﬁcers and 100,000 noncommissioned ofﬁcers. Prime Minister E´douard Daladier equivocated by responding that although “it appears to me all immediate measures compatible with our ﬁnancial possibilities have been taken,” he would study the request.55 The study continued into 1939, but on 1 September, Hitler invaded Poland, and France was again at war. It was a French army conceived within the ideological context of left- and right-wing politics that met and fell before the German invasion of May 1940. Scapegoats for this debacle were immediately found on all sides of the political spectrum. When the Germans dictated a small professional army for France with the armistice, many ofﬁcers rejoiced at the return to professionalism and the death of the Jaure`s citizen-soldier. The regular army ofﬁcers blamed their defeat on short-term conscripts. But the story was more complicated.56 One of the causes of the French tragedy in 1940 was the adoption of a strategy that required one type of conscript but a political reality that resulted in the existence of another type. The French conscript system in the period before World War II failed to provide the type of soldier that French plans required. The conscription system was more than a means of ﬁnding

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military manpower in France. It was an articulation of Republican ideology; its use by the professional military establishment appeared an afterthought. Military strategy had to accommodate the draftee for ideological and cultural reasons, much as the British military accommodated the conscientious objector. Despite the elaborate plan expressed in the law of 1938 and the lessons of World War I, French mobilization again proved defective. Although over 1 million occupational deferments were granted, some 550,000 soldiers had to be returned to key civilian jobs in war industry.57 More disturbing, the structure of the cadre-conscript force was too complex. The ﬁve-stage plan for full mobilization, from “alert” to “general mobilization,” was cumbersome, and the arrangements for calling up reserves was confusing. France had made the logical choice of preparing for a long, total war and for adopting a defensive strategy to allow its Allies to contribute to the outcome. France was overcome by the inherent complexity of its structure and strategy when faced with the innovative blitzkrieg of the German force. Conceivably, a fully trained and equipped professional force may have responded more effectively in 1940.58 In the long run, however, Germany met defeat from Russia, Great Britain, and the United States, who all organized for a long total war and used conscript forces. Numbers and equipment rather than speed ultimately decided the war in favor of the Allies. France fell in 1940 not only because of the inherent defect of its cadre-conscript force but because it had the misfortune of being placed geographically at a disadvantage vis-a`-vis the German force. Those nations that had more time, provided by geography, used many of the French ideas to emerge ultimately victorious. THE UNITED STATES Like France, the United States also used a cadre-conscript force in World War II. The path to this force, however, was quite different. The interwar years in America proved rocky ground upon which to erect a mobilization plan. The National Defense Act of 1920 offered only an outline of a citizensoldier force with no provisions for compulsory service. Noninvolvement or isolationism found favor in both major political parties, and the decade of the 1920s witnessed disarmament conferences and peace pacts. With the onset of the depression even less attention was directed to military needs. The armed forces were reduced to a shell, and the army found itself directing a civilian conservation program.59 The army staff continued to plan for a future conscription. In 1926 the American general staff erected a Joint Army Navy Selective Service Committee (JANSSC) under the G-1 to draft a future conscription bill. A small group of ofﬁcers began creating the skeleton of such a system. Planners assumed that a draft law would be passed only after a declaration of emer-

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gency and that the system would follow the World War I scheme. The basic principles included a universal obligation to serve but a recognition of the need for selective service with deferments for key personnel. The principles of selectivity and local autonomy for draft boards set the American system apart from both the French and British systems.60 By the 1930s the JANSSC had created an embryonic organization to staff a future draft. Over 100 reserve ofﬁcers were trained by correspondence and conferences in the details of future operations. State adjutants general were also brought into the plan. Although anticipating that the draft would be under a civilian mandate, the JANSSC created a skeleton that relied upon military personnel, albeit reserve types.61 In October 1934 Col. H. C. Kramer, who had been an ofﬁcial in the draft of World War I, addressed a high-ranking audience at the Army War College on Selective Service. Kramer boasted that planning had advanced to a point where over 95 reserve ofﬁcers were ready to assume duty in national headquarters, where 24 different states had submitted detailed plans on how to implement conscription, and where most of the governors were promising cooperation with the system. And still he worried.62 His main concerns revolved around the strong paciﬁst movement in the country. He expected many Protestant churches to oppose conscription. His answer was to have the army promote the draft at all opportunities. The publicity generated by private public relations ﬁrms had worked very well in World War I, and he expected no less in the next war. This work was needed to ensure that the draft went into effect no less than 30 days after the declaration of a national emergency. The cadre was ready, the regulations were written, and with a properly informed public, conscription would become a reality.63 Yet when the European war began in September 1939, the War Department hesitated. Like their British counterparts, American ofﬁcers shied away from the political fallout that a call for the draft was sure to generate. They received little reassurance from the attitude of President Franklin D. Roosevelt (FDR). The president feared a negative political reaction from conservatives. Isolationism remained strong, and his ﬁrst concern was to revise existing neutrality laws to allow aid to England and France.64 In 1934 General Douglas MacArthur stated that “the traditions of our people” permit no “type of compulsory military service in time of peace.” By 1935 Senator Gerald Nye had launched a series of neutrality laws that forced an arms embargo on belligerents. In October 1939, when the War Department asked the advice of Hugh Johnson, who had been part of the leadership of the draft in World War I, about the odds of obtaining peacetime conscription, he answered there was little hope. He advised ofﬁcers to keep the very idea “in the dark.” Few members of Congress, and certainly not Roosevelt, thought of organizing an expeditionary force to aid the Allies. FDR’s call for America becoming the arsenal of democracy did not

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entail sending over boys. His main concern on the military front was strengthening the navy and air force.65 Accordingly, the War Department’s strategic plan from 1937 through 1939 was called the Protective Mobilization Plan. It envisioned mobilizing the regular army and the National Guard into an initial protective force of only 400,000. Only eight months after the start of mobilization would the force grow to 700,000. The modesty of the plan came partly from a sense of political reality but also from a conscious decision to move away from mass formations to emphasize speed and mobility in attack. The initial mission of the army was still restricted to defense of the United States and its offshore possessions. European ﬁghting by Americans was simply not an option until after the fall of France in June 1940. Indeed, Roosevelt’s ﬁrst response to the French armistice was to suggest naval and air action against German forces.66 In the spring of 1940, when Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau berated General George Marshall, the Chief of Staff, about only being able to put 75,000 troops in the ﬁeld for an emergency, Marshall replied lamely that, on the contrary, he could put 80,000 in the ﬁeld. But shortly thereafter the plan had evolved so that the mobilization of the regulars and the National Guard would generate a force of 500,000 upon a declaration of war. The hidden draft bill would also be presented for rapid passage. In the meantime, a great campaign to promote volunteering was prepared. But all this still seemed rather meager compared to the amazing speed demonstrated by German blitzkriegs in Poland and France.67 The original plans were soon upset by the lobbying activities of a group of preparedness-minded civilians. Led by Grenville Clark, a New York attorney, and utilizing elites active in the Military Training Camp Association (MTCA) of pre–World War I days, this clique began pressing its own version of a draft bill upon Congress. When the bill appeared in the spring of 1940, it was sponsored by Senator Edward R. Burke and Representative James W. Wadsworth. The War Department now rushed to catch up to events. Army planners, led by Col. Lewis B. Hershey, explained the defects of the Clark bill compared to the War Department draft. The former called for a huge initial registration and group occupational deferments. After some initial confusion, Hershey made his peace with Clark, and the ﬁnal bill followed the War Department’s ideas more closely.68 When the draft law ﬁnally passed on 16 September 1940 it set up a hybrid system unlike either the French or British operation. Like the British system, the American system was operated by civilians, although national headquarters was ﬁlled with reserve ofﬁcers and the eventual director was an army general. But the American system functioned through local boards with wide authority. The War Department informed the director of Selective Service on the number of men needed. The director in turn sent out a quota to each state, based on registration ﬁgures. The War Department

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then told each Army Corp area of the total number of men it could procure, broken into a ﬁgure for each state in the Corp area. The Corp commander made a requisition upon each state, which in turn broke the call down for each local board. The local board forwarded men to the nearest induction station for examination and taking the oath of enlistment.69 There was outstanding cooperation between the military and draft authorities throughout the war, but some problems did arise. The military resented any deferments except those required by direct defense needs and had little sympathy for civilian economic requirements. Also, the physical standards set by the military induction stations seemed much too high to civilians on local boards. Finally, the War Department insisted upon maintaining its racially segregated force, despite the draft law prohibiting race as a selection criteria. The military issued racially speciﬁc calls upon draft ofﬁcials, who resented such action. If a local board sent black draftees when the call had speciﬁed whites, the men were returned unexamined. This racism created special havoc for meeting quotas and for black Americans forced to sit in limbo awaiting draft action.70 Despite these disagreements, the War Department generally worked well with Selective Service. Hershey later admitted that he tried at all times to cooperate with both General Marshall and Secretary of War Henry Stimson, because they were his military superiors. But neither Marshall nor Stimson tried to boss him around. Selective Service was a presidential agency and did not report through the War Department. When advisers suggested to Roosevelt the creation of what became the War Manpower Commission, Stimson strongly supported an independent Selective Service.71 The War Department furnished over 400 ofﬁcers to work in the agency. Most of these men were older, reserve types.72 The United States fought the war with a civilian-soldier military force.73 Over 10,000,000 young men were inducted during World War II, out of a total military force of 16,354,000.74 Draftees were used in all services and outﬁts, but for the ﬁrst time some 55 draftee-only divisions were formed. The American army used an individual rather than unit replacement system during the war, despite much criticism then and since for this approach. Draftee divisions did not engage the enemy in Europe until the summer of 1944, although draftees had fought much earlier in other units. The delay came from the 12-month training cycle required by the War Department. When these units did engage, however, they performed very well. In the difﬁcult ﬁghting in Italy, the 88th Division in particular shone brightly. Men from all areas and all walks of life combined in a uniquely American force. General Marshall praised their work, and Secretary Stimson said this showed that the average American could whip the German military professional.75

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NOTES 1. Brian Bond, British Military Policy between the Two World Wars (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), pp. 91, 135; B. R. Mitchell, British Historical Statistics (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 105. 2. Peter Dennis, Decision by Default: Peacetime Conscription and British Defence 1919–39 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1972), pp. 6, 16–17. 3. Quoted in Bond, British Military Policy, p. 80. 4. Ibid. 5. Ibid., p. 217. 6. Elisabeth Kier, Imagining War: French and British Military Doctrine between the Wars (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997), pp. 89, 115; Bond, British Military Policy, pp. 197, 202. 7. Bond, British Military Policy, pp. 191, 194, 236; Liddell-Hart to Humphrey Cobb, 11 June 1935, B. H. Liddell-Hart Papers, Kings College, London (hereafter cited as LH Papers), 1/178/2. 8. Dennis, Decision, p. 112; Bond, British Military Policy, pp. 243, 259; quote in Kier, Imagining, p. 93. 9. Dennis, Decision, pp. 128, 130. 10. Quote from Bond, British Military Policy, p. 275; Anthony Adamthwaite, France and the Coming of the Second World War, 1936–1939 (London: F. Cass, 1977), p. 48. 11. Adamthwaite, Coming, pp. 248, 251, 253, 305, 308, 313, 358; Bond, British Military Policy, pp. 295, 296, 299, 304, 308. 12. Bond, British Military Policy, pp. 301, 303, 308. 13. Kier, Imagining, p. 137, Dennis, Decision, p. 75. 14. Adamthwaite, Coming, p. 253; Bond, British Military Policy, p. 297. 15. Quote in Bond, British Military Policy, p. 310; see also p. 305. 16. Dowding to Liddell-Hart, 4/3/44, ﬁle 1/245/38, LH Papers. 17. Quoted in Bond, British Military Policy, p. 320. 18. For British recruiting history see T. H. McGufﬁe, “Recruiting the British Army in Modern Times,” Memoirs and Proceedings of the Manchester Literary & Philosophical Society 96 (1954): 97–119. 19. Mitchell, Historical Statistics, pp. 14–17; H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), statistical appendix, table 1, 2, pp. 481–43. 20. Parker, Manpower, p. 102. 21. F. W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organisation in Two World Wars (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), p. 227; Angus Calder, The People’s War: Britain, 1939–1945 (New York: Random House, 1969), p. 54. 22. G. M. Evans to Sir James Price, 11 October 1940, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO), Lab6/265; Manpower supply and service needs, to DeVilliers from JHW, Ministry of Labour and National Service (hereafter cited as MLNS), 1941, PRO/Lab6/208. 23. Alan Bullock, The Life and Times of Ernest Bevin: Vol 2: Minister of La-

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bour, 1940–1945 (London: Heinemann, 1967), p. 47; Parker, Manpower, pp. 105, 107. 24. Perry, Commonwealth, p. 61; Parker, Manpower, pp. 106, 176. 25. P. J. Grigg to E. B. on “Army Scales,” 3 June 1942, PRO/Lab6/644; Bullock, Bevin, p. 213; Parker, Manpower, p. 172; War Ofﬁce monthly statement and forecast, 28 July 1942, in John Anderson to E. B., 24 August 1942, PRO/Lab6/644. 26. DeVilliers to Sec., The Admiralty, 18 September 1942, PRO/Lab6/644; Bullock, Bevin, p. 214, 250; Army Council Secretariat, 17 December 1944, PRO/ WO32/11098. 27. Perry, Commonwealth, p. 63; Mitchell, Historical Statistics, pp. 13–16. There was no sex and age census available for 1940 because of the war. 28. Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 262n74. 29. Robert A. Doughty, The Seeds of Disaster: The Development of French Army Doctrine, 1919–1939 (Hamden, Conn.: Archon, 1985), p. 14. 30. Kier, Imagining, p. 72. 31. Eugenia C. Kiesling, Arming against Hitler: France and the Limits of Military Planning (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1996), p. 4. 32. Eugen J. Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930’s (New York: Norton, 1994), p. 11. 33. Doughty, Seeds, p. 43. 34. Quoted in Kier, Imagining, p. 74. 35. Quoted in Doughty, Seeds, p. 16. 36. Kiesling, Arming, p. 11; Doughty, Seeds, p. 16. 37. Kier, Imagining, p. 65; Kiesling, Arming, p. 63. 38. Meeting of Conseil Supe´rieur de Guerre (hereafter cited as CSG), 31 May to 2 June 1920, 9n23, doss. 1, Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV). 39. Kiesling, Arming, p. 13; Arpad Kovacs, “French Military Legislation in the Third Republic: 1871–1940,” Military Affairs 13 (1949): 12; Kier, Imagining, pp. 65, 67. 40. Doughty, Seeds, p. 16, 22; Kier, Imagining, p. 66; Kiesling, Arming, pp. 63, 86, 92, 94. 41. Minister of War to CGs, 7, February 1928, 7n2329, doss. 2, MACV; Doughty, Seeds, pp. 21, 24; Kiesling, Arming, p. 63, 87; Jean-Charles Jauffret, “L’Arme´e de me´tier: un sie`cle de debats, 1871–1972,” in Bernard Boene & Michel L. Martin, eds., Conscription et arme´e de me´tier (Paris: FEDN, 1991), p. 214. 42. Kiesling, Arming, p. 86; “Des Marins du roi aux matelots de la re´publique,” in De Valmy au Vercors: Histoire de la conscription. Livret de l’exposition du ministere de la de´fense 15 juin–15 juillet 1982 (Paris: SHAT, 1982), p. 34; Kier, Imagining, pp. 48, 73; Doughty, Seeds, pp. 22, 28, 31; Jauffret, “L’Arme´e de me´tier,” p. 213. 43. Adamthwaite, Coming, p. 355. 44. Kier, Imagining, pp. 86–87; Doughty, Seeds, p. 187; Kiesling, Arming, p. 117. 45. Bond, British Military Policy, p. 321. 46. Weber, Hollow, p. 247; Adamthwaite, Coming, p. 165.

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47. Jauffret, “L’Arme´e de me´tier,” p. 215. 48. Doughty, Seeds, p. 37; Kier, Imagining, p. 82. 49. Jauffret, “L’Arme´e de me´tier,” p. 213; Doughty, Seeds, p. 11; quote in Adamthwaite, Coming, p. 30. 50. Unsigned memo on “The Needs of the Military in Effectives,” 1935, MACV, 5n581-doss. 1b; Henry Dutailly, Les Proble`mes de l’arme´e de terre franc¸aise (1935– 1939) (Paris: SHAT, 1980), p. 212. 51. Philippe Petain to M. General Messimy, Commission de l’arme´e du senat, 3 July 1935, MACV, 5n589, doss. 1. 52. Dutailly, Les Proble`mes, pp. 64, 207–208. 53. Minister of War to Ministers, 4–8 March 1935, MACV, 5n589, doss. 1; Dutailly, Les Proble`mes, pp. 207, 213, 221–225; Doughty, Seeds, p. 22; Kiesling, Arming, p. 34. 54. George A. Kelly, Lost Soldiers: The French Army and Empire in Crisis, 1947–1962 (Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press, 1965), p. 15; quote in Adamthwaite, Coming, p. 171; Doughty, Seeds, p. 37. 55. Quote in Dutailly, Les Proble`mes, p. 224; Kiesling, Arming, p. 36. 56. Robert O. Paxton, Parades and Politics at Vichy: The French Ofﬁcer Corps under Marshal Petain (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), p. 58. 57. Kiesling, Arming, p. 38. 58. Ibid., pp. 5–6, 10, 66, 70–71, 115; Doughty, Seeds, pp. 22–24, 29, 32; Adamthwaite, Coming, pp. 39, 62. See the following for the March collapse: Joel Blatt, ed., The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessment (Providence, R.I.: Berghahn Books, 1998); Ernest R. May, Strange Victory: Hitler’s Conquest of France (New York: Hill and Wang, 2000). 59. J. Garry Clifford & Samuel R. Spenser, Jr., The First Peacetime Draft (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1986), pp. 37, 39–40. 60. Ibid., p. 41; American Selective Service: A Brief Account of Its Historical Background (Washington D.C.: GPO, 1939), pp. 1, 17–24. 61. For a dicussion of this planning see George Q. Flynn, Lewis B. Hershey, Mr. Selective Service (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985), chap. 3. 62. H. C. Kramer, “Selective Service,” 11 October 1934, Record Group (hereafter cited as RG) 147–97, Box 1, National Archives, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as NA). 63. Ibid. 64. For a discussion of isolationism see the following: Wayne Cole, America First: The Battle against Intervention, 1940–1941 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1953); idem, Roosevelt and the Isolationists (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983); Robert Divine, The Reluctant Belligerent: American Entry into World War II (New York: Wiley, 1965); Manfred Jonas, Isolationism in America, 1935–1941 (Ithaca, N.Y: Cornell University Press, 1966). 65. Clifford, First, quotes pp. 37, 42, 46. 66. Ibid., pp. 41, 44–45. 67. Ibid., pp. 11, 43. 68. George Q. Flynn, The Draft, 1940–1973 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1993), pp. 11–13; Clifford, First, p. 42; Hershey memo for Chief of Staff, 14 June 1940, RG 147–97, Box 24, 345, NA. Hershey recruited members of the MTCA for service on local draft boards; see Hershey to BG. L. V. Regan, 1 August

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1940, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Archives, Carlisle Barracks, Carlisle, Pa. (hereafter cited as LH, MHA). 69. Chief of Staff memo for General Watson, 4 October 1940, Ofﬁcial File 1413, Box 1, Franklin D. Roosevelt Papers, Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, N.Y. (hereafter cited as FDRP); American Selective Service: A Brief, pp. 17–24; Clifford, First, p. 42. 70. For draft operations during World War II, see Flynn, Draft, chaps. 2 and 3; also Ulysses Lee, “The Draft and the Negro,” Current History 55 (July 1968): 30; Phillip McGuire, “Judge William H. Hastie and Army Recruitment, 1940–1942,” Military Affairs 42 (April 1978): 75–76; Richard M. Dalﬁume, Desegregation of the U.S. Armed Forces (Columbus: University of Montana Press, 1969), pp. 202, 210–211. The racial draft calls ended after World War II, but the armed forces did not integrate until the Korean War. 71. Lewis B. Hershey, interview, 15 December 1970, Oral History, Lyndon B. Johnson Papers, Johnson Library, Austin, Tex. (hereafter cited as LBJ); Stimson to Rep. Andrew J. May, 14 January 1944, Reel 360, item 5317, SS, George C. Marshall Papers, Marshall Res. Center, Lexington, Va. (hereafter cited as GCMP); Stimson memo for President, 16 February 1942, OF 1413, Box 2, FDRP. See also George Q. Flynn, The Mess in Washington: Manpower Mobilization in World War II (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1979). 72. Marshall memo for MG Edwin M. Watson, 12 February 1942, OF 1413, mis. Box 6, FDRP; B. Somervell to Marshall, 18 April 1944, SS, reel 360, item 5317, 18 April 1944, GCMP; Patterson for Chief of Staff, 19 April 1944, ibid.; Marshall to Adm. King, 22 April 1944, ibid.; Adm. E. J. King to Marshall, 22 April 1944, ibid. 73. For draftees’ performance in Europe see Stephen Ambrose, Citizen Soldiers (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1997). 74. U.S. Deptartment of Commerce, Historical Statistics of the United States: Colonial Times to 1970, 2 pts. (Washington D.C.: GPO, 1975), 2: 1140. 75. John S. Brown, “Draftee Division: A Study of the 88th Infantry Division. First All Selective Service Division into Combat in W.W. II” (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 1983), pp. iii, 2, 21, 26, 33–35, 148, 273, 317, 334, 336; Stimson statement, 1 May 1944, reel 260, SS, item 5317, GCMP.

Chapter 5

Limited Wars With the end of the war in Europe in May and in Asia in September 1945, millions of citizens expected a quick return to peacetime conditions. For the United States this meant an end to conscription and a return to a regular force based on volunteers. In Britain and France it meant a reduction in the rate of conscription. It took another 25 years before Britain could end the system. Russian policy and the revolution of colonial peoples caused the delay. The origins of the Cold War have been studied exhaustively.1 Scholars mention the bipolarity of power emerging after the war, Soviet concerns with security, proselytizing for communism, and American interest in economic expansion. Whatever the cause, the two superpowers soon entangled the rest of the world in their rivalry.

GREAT BRITAIN Global rivalry was far from the thoughts of the average British citizen digging himself out from the ruins of World War II. Although spared the loss of such continental nations as Poland and Russia, Great Britain had still spent itself in the effort of defeating Germany. Its foreign reserves were used up, factories obsolete, workforce depleted. Yet even in these strained circumstances and even with the Labour government of Clement Atlee in power, Britain continued to thrust itself into world affairs as a ﬁrst-rank player. From 1946 to 1960 Britain engaged in six different colonial campaigns. Although the strength of its military dropped from 2 million to 718,000 in 1950, it still drafted over 1.5 million men, with 1 in 12 ﬁghting

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in such theaters as Palestine, Malaya, Kenya, Cyprus, Korea, Suez, and South Arabia.2 Britain launched itself on intervention within a year of the German peace. Ernest Bevin, now transferred from MLNS to foreign secretary in the Atlee government, made a case for military expansion and continued conscription. Without a strong show of force by Britain, he was convinced that Russia, which already controlled central Europe, would soon dominate the continent. More important, he felt Russia was working to “bring about the dissolution of the British Empire.”3 In short order Bevin, with the support of the United States, started on the path leading to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). Inﬂuenced by Soviet actions in Czechoslovakia and East Germany, and by communist-led insurrections in Greece and Malaysia, the British sought to play a major role even as its economy verged on collapse.4 The most immediate effect of this new policy was to revamp existing demobilization plans. Initially the government hoped to reduce the total size of armed forces to 1.2 million by the end of 1946. A White Paper on call-ups indicated that all men in uniform in December 1946 should be released by the end of 1948. But reacting to Russian actions the government continued a high rate of call-up with all men under 30—except those with essential industry deferments—being inducted. By 26 November 1946 the government admitted that its initial plan of release could not be met because of the need to ﬁnish postwar tasks. In order to continue inductions, a revised law had to be passed.5 Passage of a peacetime conscription measure presented some political difﬁculty. All the old arguments could still be made against such an untraditional system. Liddell-Hart launched upon a public and private campaign to end reliance on anything but regulars. More important, Hugh Dalton, chancellor of the exchequer, and Stafford Cripps, president of the Board of Trade, both pleaded the need to rebuild British manufacturing and exports with young men. Industry already lacked over 600,000 workers. The spending of £225 million to keep 500,000 troops in foreign lands represented a considerable drain on the foreign exchange rate.6 The experience of conscription in the two world wars had some positive effect. A larger percentage of the public now realized that without such a system Britain could not carry its weight at the world council of powers. Apprehension over Soviet moves in Europe and the turmoil in the empire also contributed to a more receptive public mentality. Added to this was the unanimous attitude of military leaders. Field Marshall Montgomery and Foreign Minister Bevin joined Minister of Defense Albert Alexander in demanding continued conscription.7 What had seemed inconceivable in 1930 now occurred. A Labour government pushed for a revised peacetime conscription law. The national service laws passed during the war continued in force until

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1947. Then a new act was adopted to incorporate the provisions of these previous acts and to provide for a year of active duty and six years of reserve duty. This transitional measure covered men aged 18 to 26. The next year another bill was adopted in which the tour was increased to 18 months and reserve duty to ﬁve and a half years. But this last act was revised and changed before being implemented. As the bill passed through Parliament, opposition from radicals in the Labour Party forced a reduction in tour to one year. Such a reduction was resisted by military leaders. The entire army council threatened to resign without a tour of 18 months of active duty. The government gave in, and an 18-month tour with ﬁve and half years of reserve duty was reestablished in the 1949 law.8 New draftees were liable for service anywhere in the world. By 1950 the age range remained the same, but the active duty tour expanded to 24 months, with three and a half years of reserve duty. Physicians were liable up to age 30. Persons excluded from liability during peacetime included those in holy orders, or regular ministers of religion, lunatics, the physically incapacitated, and veterans who served before January 1949, unless they had not ﬁnished an 18-month tour before 1 October 1950.9 For the next 25 years Britain fought in the empire and manned positions in Europe for the containment of the Soviet Union. Such a policy was impossible without conscripts. Malcolm MacDonald, the British High Commissioner in Malaya, explained the need to ﬁght against rebels in that area in the following terms: “The stage manager who dictates their [rebels] every move sits in the Kremlin.” Similar attitudes appeared in Kenya and other outposts. A minimum of half of all British troops engaged in Palestine, Malaya, Kenya, Korea, and Cyprus were conscripts. In August 1950 a House of Commons resolution called for a ban on the use of conscripts in Korea. But John Strachey, the secretary of state for war, admitted that “it has not been possible to ﬁnd all the reinforcements necessary to maintain forces in Korea from serving regular soldiers and it had been decided that the balance should be found in national servicemen rather than by recalling further regular reservists.”10 With the advent of the Korean War in 1950, the conscription systems of Britain and France faced only a minor test. The British had a maximum of 13,000 in Korea during the entire conﬂict and the French even less. But the British also had troops in various parts of their imperial realm, such as Malaysia and Indo-China. The British armed force in 1950 totaled 690,000 but rose to 827,000 in 1951, with half the army supplied by conscripts.11 For France, 1,560 draftees served in Korea out of a total contingent of 5,760.12 Yet eventually such service proved the weakness of conscription and led to its demise in 1960. The British found that sending draftees with short tours to overseas missions was counterproductive. Increasingly, literature appeared at home disparaging the wasted time of national servicemen.13

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The armed forces also found that postwar crises frequently required a quick infusion of troops, which was awkward under the long training and short tour system of conscription. When the system failed to respond effectively in the 1956 Suez crisis, critics who stressed domestic economic priorities carried the day, and Britain returned to its traditional all-volunteer force. FRANCE The French army entered the postwar world bearing a legacy of guilt. Having been defeated by the Germans, and limited to a small force in Vichy, the French military sought redemption through a brief and limited role with the victorious Allies from 1944 to the end of the war in May 1945. In the postwar world this army again faced an ambiguous political atmosphere. Conscription continued, but the major battles occupying France were in its colonies, in the far east and in Africa. The decision to ﬁght to retain these outposts represented a conscious decision to restore a place at the ﬁrst table of nations and, in de Gaulle’s mind, a sense of glory.14 Ironies abounded. The French army, a mix of professionals and conscripts, was designed to ﬁght conventional battles on the European continent. Now it was asked to ﬁght guerrilla wars across the world. Seeking redemption from the defeat of 1940, the army turned its colonial effort into a crusade against communism, when in reality local dynamics were at work. To augment its forces, France had long used conscripts from its colonies, particularly Africa. The impact of this system on the fragile economies and societies of French North Africa was considerable and contributed to the postwar independence movements.15 Following World War II, as a wave of self-determination swept most of the European colonies, France stood ﬁrm against any lost of its possessions in the Maghrib (Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco) and in Indo-China. These areas had received considerable settlement from France itself, with over a million colons (people born in Europe or descendant from Europeans) in Algeria, 300,000 in Morocco, and another 250,000 in Tunisia. Despite French resistance, both Tunisia and Morocco achieved independence by 1956. But the split was not to occur peacefully in Algeria. In both IndoChina and Algeria, France used its army against indigenous forces. By 1950 France had an army of 150,000 ﬁghting in Indo-China. Then came problems in Korea and North Africa, and by late 1951 France had 230,000 men ﬁghting in these foreign areas.16 The problems in Indo-China were a legacy of the war. During the conﬂict Vietnamese nationalism had grown under the leadership of Ho Chi Minh and the Vietminh. His work against the Japanese had been recognized by the United States, where Franklin Roosevelt looked with benevolence upon the new indigenous movement and opposed a return of the French colonial masters. On 2 September 1945 Ho proclaimed independence for the Dem-

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ocratic Republic of Vietnam. But by then Roosevelt was dead, and Harry Truman needed French support in Europe. In short order de Gaulle had dispatched new forces to reestablish French control. By November 1946 ﬁghting was under way.17 Over the next eight years France poured its resources into this conﬂict with little results. Even with the equivalent of Fr277,000 in American aid, and the loss of 92,000 dead and another 114,000 wounded, the French military failed to defeat the Vietminh. While in 1947 just over half of French public opinion had favored the ﬁght, by 1954 this ﬁgure had dropped to just 7 percent.18 Ofﬁcially, the French army in Indo-China consisted only of volunteers and no conscripts. In fact, most of these volunteers were Africans and Germans, not Frenchmen from the Metropole. But anywhere from 1,750 to 8,810 draftees also served as volunteers.19 The war had an effect on conscription. Seeking to increase its strength in Indo-China and also to contribute its promised share of forces to the newly created NATO in Europe, the French army campaigned for an extension in the draft tour from 18 months to two years. The French general staff argued that an increase in draftees offered several favorable prospects. If the conscripts were allowed to serve in Indo-China it would mean that France could beef up its regular contribution to NATO forces. But even if conscripts could not be sent to Asia, their increased presence in the force would free more regulars for service in that area.20 Yet neither a lengthening of the tour nor any use of conscripts in the theater was politically possible. Without this augmentation, the ﬁghting in Vietnam became more and more of a holding action by France. The United States was now bearing over 80 percent of the cost of the war. The French military staff worked to extend the draft tour but realized that conscripts would only be available for a short stay in the theater. After basic training they would need special training and inoculation. In July 1953 General Georges Catroux informed the government that General Henri Navarre needed another 20,000 troops. But where to ﬁnd them? Catroux himself admitted, “I do not think I am wrong in answering that reinforcements cannot be sent without calling upon the conscripts.” Then, on 7 May 1954, the French lost the battle of Dienbienphu.21 This military defeat provided the opportunity for the new government of the radical independent Pierre Mende`s-France to launch a peace initiative. Some 40 percent of the French military budget was being consumed by Indo-China, and over 230,000 troops were ﬁghting in various colonial theaters. Generals Paul E´ly and Raoul Salan had examined the Vietnam scene before the fall of the fortress and reported that holding the area was impossible without use of conscripts. When Prime Minister Mende`s-France traveled to Geneva for peace talks, he played the conscript card against foes and friends. For its effect on the Vietminh, he announced that three

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divisions of draftees were receiving shots in preparation for departure to the war theater. This suggested an expansion of the war if the talks failed. For internal political consumption, he made clear that resistance to accepting terms meant the deployment of the contingent. Here was a case where conscription operated to restrict options, because French opinion was almost unanimously opposed to such a deployment. In short order France signed an accord, left Vietnam to the Americans, and began concentrating on the problem of Algeria.22 Algeria was a different proposition entirely than Indo-China.23 Algeria in 1945 held over 1 million colons. These people and the French government considered Algeria an integral part of France. It held the status of department, but the indigenous natives of North Africa wanted independence. By 1954 with the help of Egyptian nationalists and with France involved in Indo-China, an independence movement called the Front de Libe´ration Nationale had begun an insurrection. By 1958 France had 300,000 troops ﬁghting to hold this territory, and 80 percent of them were conscripts. Even elite organizations such as parachute regiments had a considerable percentage of draftees. As Algeria was a part of France, there was no legal barrier to the employment of conscripts. But such employment proved a weak point in the French effort.24 France eventually lost Algeria for many reasons, including the opposition of former allies, but the role played by conscripts was pivotal. In 1956 the socialist government of Guy Mollet announced plans to increase the military force to a half million men, to lengthen draft service to 27 months, and to recall reservists. Yet just a few weeks earlier, during the national election, outgoing Prime Minister Edgar Faure had promised a quick end to compulsory military service. Also, the draftees going to Algeria represented a new type of soldier for France. No longer illiterate peasants, these young men came from all slices of the social pie and had a more skeptical attitude toward authority. Going to ﬁght and die in the desert for a pay of Fr10,000 a month required a ﬁrm belief in the cause. These beliefs soon dissolved before the reality of guerrilla ambushes, torture, and atrocities.25 The young men returned home with stories and experiences that made a mockery of the military claim to be ﬁghting to uphold Western civilization against communism. One draftee wrote: “Isn’t the balance equal between the interests of our countrymen and the aspirations of the Algerian people for independence?” Such comments helped to generate an antiwar movement within France that reached a high point with the “Manifesto of the 121,” signed by leading French intellectuals. The manifesto called for an end to the war and urged resistance upon new draftees. Government efforts to silence and censor such statements had the usual lack of success.26 Resistance at home, including demonstrations at the point of embarkation, fed a growing disenchantment in the French public. The military forces in Algeria then decided to take things into their own hands. First,

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they helped to bring down the Fourth Republic and delivered the government to de Gaulle. Then in April 1958 they attempted a military revolt against de Gaulle. In this last affair the actions of conscripts proved decisive. De Gaulle went on radio to appeal to them to resist the rebel colonels. By the thousands they responded with passive disobedience and even acts of sabotage. The putsch collapsed, Algeria became independent, and the French army found itself once again overwhelmed by its mixed composition. Jaure`s’s ideas seemed prophetic about the importance of having a conscript leven in the authoritarian military.27 But what was the point in having a large force with conscripts if options for operation were to be so curtailed? The contradictions of such an arrangement became clearer over the next 20 years, especially after the Gulf War of 1991 revealed that once again, despite its large size, the French cadre-conscript force was incapable of rapid and effective deployment for less than total war or the invasion of the homeland. At that stage the purpose and goals of conscription began to receive serious debate. THE UNITED STATES The deployment of conscripts to ﬁght less than total war also caused problems in the United States, although it had no colonies. American involvement in limited wars sprang from the imperatives of the containment policy in the Cold War. In 1947 Truman had issued his famous doctrine that committed the United States to “support free peoples who are resisting attempted subjugation by armed minorities or outside pressure.” This policy, together with the virulent anticommunism that engulfed the nation, ensured that American draftees were to ﬁght in both the Korean peninsula and in Vietnam. None of this was foreseen in the glow of victory after World War II. The draft hung on momentarily to provide replacements, but by 1947 it had gone into standby status. Revived in 1948 over considerable congressional opposition, the new draft served mainly to induce volunteers for the regular forces. No one was drafted in 1949, and local boards operated infrequently. Yet on 4 January 1950 the president called for an extension of the draft to meet the “unsettled” conditions in the world. He also submitted a budget request that cut the strength of armed forces personnel by almost 200,000. American rhetoric remained strongly anticommunist, and NATO was now a reality, but defense policy seemed unsettled.28 There was some consistency, despite appearances. For one thing, keeping the draft active ﬁt Truman’s desire to reduce defense spending. The existence of the draft served as a stimulant to volunteer enlistments in all services. Even without drafting anyone, the Selective Service helped ﬁll the ranks of the military with long-term enlistees. Military leaders wanted a draft extension because it encouraged enlistees without having to raise pay

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or beneﬁts. Furthermore, planners in the Department of Defense and the State Department were ﬁnally drafting an overall strategy to ﬁt the containment rhetoric emanating from the White House. This work emerged in the form of National Security Council Paper 68. In April 1950 Truman read in the report that the United States had to build up a defense establishment at a cost of from $35 billion to $50 billion a year for the indeﬁnite future. Containment, it seemed, did not come cheaply but required a political commitment and congressional support for rearmament on the level of a major war. In such a scenario, the draft had to play an important role.29 Congress proved hesitant about extending the draft in 1950. Saving money on defense was popular, but the draft acted in only an indirect manner. Congressmen saw that no one was being drafted and that local boards were inactive. Why bother continuing the system? Yet a public opinion poll in January found that 57 percent of the respondents favored a continuation of the draft for another three years, and only 33 percent opposed the idea.30 The rhetoric of the Cold War and Soviet moves in Europe were making acceptable an institution that in 1940 had been labeled antiAmerican. Even with the existence of the atomic bomb, the draft was becoming a permanent part of the defense structure.31 When North Korean troops poured across the 38th parallel on 25 June 1950, this trend was solidiﬁed. The administration, Congress, and the military establishment realized quickly that the United States could not ﬁght even a limited war without conscription.32 Congress, which had been offering a temporary extension of the draft, now passed a bill simply reestablishing the system without any major changes. Both the public and Congress acceded to the president’s interpretation of the invasion as a planned step in a communist campaign of world conquest. General Douglas MacArthur’s occupation forces in Japan were unable to cope with the invasion. A limited mobilization began that included large draft calls and the call-up of reserve forces.33 In retrospect, the conﬁdence with which the administration turned to conscription to ﬁght this limited war seems rather naive. The system had been designed for total mobilization in total war. Now it was being asked to support a limited mobilization in a conﬂict that lacked the dimensions of World War II. Later, in Vietnam, the United States found such a system poorly designed and a target of criticism. But now it was needed. The initial mobilization for the Korean War revealed confusion. The plan for army expansion assumed a war against another superpower, an effective alliance system, and three-year expansion of forces using the draft and volunteers. None of these assumptions proved true.34 Instead, on 9 July 1950 there was an extension of the draft and a call-up of reserve forces. A call for volunteers failed. By early August the Department of Defense began activating reserve units and individual specialists. Some 600 units were

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called up, seriously depleting the general reserve. The vast majority of these units proved unﬁt for immediate deployment. The veterans who staffed the units complained bitterly at being recalled to ﬁght.35 At the onset of the conﬂict the United States had only 10 divisions, with 4 in Japan under General MacArthur, 1 in Europe, and the other 5 in the United States. The reserve units were understrength and lacked combat readiness.36 MacArthur was able to conduct a holding operation in Korea, but without conscription there were not enough forces to go on the offensive. In short order the Department of Defense began placing large calls on Selective Service. With calls of 50,000 for September and October, 70,000 for November, and another 40,000 for December, the available draft pool soon began to dry up.37 The system had over 9 million youth registered, but such ﬁgures were deceptive. With over 2 million either deferred or disqualiﬁed, the pool was none too large. Calls varied in size, but the system responded well. In the ﬁrst three months of the war about 180,000 men were successfully inducted. The limit on call-ups was not the draft system but the training capability of the armed forces. After the army cut basic training for draftees from 14 to 6 weeks, the system was able to continue the ﬂow of men.38 When Chinese volunteers entered the conﬂict in November 1950, General MacArthur immediately required more men. Draft calls in January and February 1951 rose to 80,000 each month, or double the original call. From March through June 1951, some 260,000 men were called up. The draft system performed so well that by June the army faced the embarrassing fact that it was now over authorized strength.39 Throughout the war the draft functioned smoothly, with local boards forwarding even more men than the armed forces needed. By June 1952 some 13.2 million men had registered. Even with the subtraction of 4.6 million rejected or deferred, the pool was sufﬁcient to meet the needs of this limited conﬂict. By the end of ﬁscal year 1953 there were 938,137 men in the available pool.40 Without the draft, the United States could not have fought even a limited war in Korea. Both directly and indirectly, through encouraging volunteer enlistments, conscription provided the needed manpower. The ﬁgures in Table 5.1 are indicative. Not only did the draft provide men, but it provided a high quality of soldier. One Department of Defense study showed that the draftee outclassed the enlistee in efﬁciency and discipline. Although the enlistee committed for a three-year term, the draftee was more likely to ﬁnish his two-year term than the enlistee was his longer commitment. Such results were unsurprising when one noted that draftees had higher educational and mental scores than the volunteer. Commanders in Korea testiﬁed repeatedly to the superiority of draftees as combat soldiers.41

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Table 5.1 Enlisted Men Entries by Source (in thousands)42

The draft served the United States well in this ﬁrst experience with limited war. Protest and evasion were insigniﬁcant issues during the Korean War. Public opinion polls did show a growing disenchantment with the irresolvable nature of the war, and Truman’s popularity slipped badly by 1952, but the draft met little criticism. No one could have predicted the draft protest that arose during the Vietnam conﬂict by examining this ﬁrst venture in limited drafting for limited conﬂict.43 The Vietnam conﬂict proved to be the occasion both for the resurrection of the draft and also for its destruction. As long as draft calls remained low and deferments plenty, the draft drew little criticism. At the same time, such a low proﬁle made it an easy target for those who felt the system redundant and argued for a return to the all-professional force. There seemed to be an abundance of young males who could not be drafted but might be induced to volunteer. When calls increased during the 1960s the surplus problem disappeared, but now other difﬁculties emerged.44 In contrast to the French reluctance to use conscripts to ﬁght limited wars, American leaders had no hesitation in turning to the draft. President Lyndon Johnson and Congress both recalled the political uproar caused by the activation of reserve units during the Korean mobilization. Since the buildup in Vietnam was to be gradual, there was no need to take the political and economic risk of recalling older reservists. With the exception of former President Dwight Eisenhower, who warned that “sending conscripted troops to Vietnam would cause a major public-relations problem,” few leaders disputed the decision.45 In November 1963 the draft enjoyed a good reputation in America. The various laws renewing induction authority, which came up every four years, were passed by wide margins with votes from both political parties.46 Of course, the immunity from criticism enjoyed by the system was directly

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related to its inactivity, with a huge demographic pool from which to draw and dozens of deferment opportunities ranging from college enrollment to marriage. Not many people complained when draft inductions averaged only 10,000 a month from 1955 to 1964.47 This was more than enough to ﬁll the needs of an active armed force that stood at nearly 2.7 million and another 3 million in various reserve units. This sizable force, however, had responsibilities that stretched around the world as the United States remained committed to its containment of communism policy. If the nation had to respond to an unexpected challenge, it could always increase draft calls.48 The system remained more or less the same as the one created in 1940. Under the law passed in 1951 men registered at 18 and were liable to callup at 181⁄2 to age 26. The procedures for examination and call-up were identical to those during the Korean War, with a tour length of 24 months, plus a reserve duty obligation. Those who obtained a deferment remained liable to call-up to age 35, but the services rarely accepted anyone over 26.49 By now the draft seemed as permanent as the post ofﬁce. Virtually all youth registered at the appropriate time, and over 60 percent of high school males in their last 2 years felt the draft was fair.50 The Johnson administration had every reason to expect the draft to function smoothly for Vietnam as it had for Korea. But special circumstances made the draft appear so trouble-free. First, the demographic impact of the draft was modest. The American population between the ages of 15 and 24 exploded from 21,641,000 in 1955 to 29,519,000 in 1964. Only about 100,000 draftees were called each year. In 1958 there were 8,000,000 men aged 19 to 25 in the pool. By 1964 there were 12,000,000.51 This same year some 2,000,000 young men were in the pool and classiﬁed as 1-A, ready for induction. But the pool was volatile and subject to constant change, especially with the many deferment options in force. A total of 16,834,000 men aged 181⁄2 to 26 were in the pool, but 12,800,000 held deferments or were ineligible. About 500,000 held student deferments.52 When prospects for call-up became more acute, one could predict that applications for deferments would also increase. The mobilization for Vietnam began in earnest only in July 1965. At that time there were over 2.5 million men in uniform. Within three years the total had grown to 3.5 million. Draft calls rose from 16,000 a month in early 1965 to 40,000 a month in midyear. Selective Service tripled its calls in ﬁscal year 1965. In ﬁscal year 1966 almost 400,000 men were drafted and 343,000 inducted. The annual draft numbers up to 1969 were about 300,000. Since some 2 million new men became eligible during this same period, there should have been no difﬁculty in call-ups. Occupational deferments climbed to over 480,000 by 1968, but almost 2 million men remained in 1-A classiﬁcations.53 The increase in calls merged with dissatisfaction over the interminable

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character of the war to generate unprecedented protest in the late 1960s.* What was obscured in the protest was that the draft worked well during the Vietnam War. It was supposed to provide men for the armed forces, and it did. It was designed to ensure a local community commitment to the ﬁghting, and it did. When the community consensus on the war broke down, the draft was one of the ﬁrst institutions to reﬂect this failure.54 In the long view, the draft’s ability to translate the growing domestic dissent over the conﬂict into new national policy decisions may have been more important than the actual numbers provided for ﬁghting. Draftees made up only 40 percent of all enlisted personnel. During the entire struggle in Vietnam some 6 million men served on active duty, but only 25 percent were draftees. In 1967, in the war theater itself, about 16 percent of American forces were draftees. A much higher percentage of both the total armed forces and troops in combat had been draftees in World War II and Korea. But despite his declining share of the service burden, the draftee paid a high price. The draftee share of army battle deaths increased from 28 percent in 1965 to 34 percent in 1966, to 57 percent in 1967. The explanation for such ﬁgures lay in the assignment policies of the military. Draftees with only a two-year tour were sent in disproportionate rates to combat positions. While only 16 percent of the entire military consisted of draftees in 1969, some 88 percent of the infantry in Vietnam were conscripts. These conscripts took up to 70 percent of the combat deaths in that year.55 These ﬁgures in themselves were disheartening. But draftee contribution ensured that the true implications of the war for American society were to be understood and felt by a wide spectrum of opinion. The draft was a two-way mirror. As it reﬂected American society in combat, so it also reﬂected the character of the conﬂict back to that society with serious political consequences for decision makers. From 1965 to 1973 some 2 million men were drafted. While those at the bottom of the education ladder and those at the top were able to avoid service, the pool still represented a wide crosssection of American life. This ensured that the effect of the war was felt in all areas of American life. The draft produced a “more, rather than less, equitable distribution of the burden across the stratiﬁcation system,” more equitable than the volunteer system of the 1980s.56 A 1979 study of who served concluded: “The military manpower procurement policies of the past thirty-ﬁve years have been oriented toward providing the armed forces with men and women in the center of the education distribution.”57 The draft pool stood at 19 million men registered in 1964. Although this appeared more than adequate to ﬁght in Vietnam, there were problems. Two million students were deferred; 2.5 million were disqualiﬁed; another 2.4 million were below acceptable military standards.58 Because President Johnson increased the troop commitment very slowly, the system responded *See Chapter 11 for protest and draft.

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well. Quotas in December 1965 were only 40,200. There seemed no need to interfere with students or the 4 million fathers in the pool.59 In 1966, however, calls began to increase, and the pool began to shrink. More eligible men married or found other means of escaping a 1-A classiﬁcation. Some 2.4 million men were in 1-Y or physically below standard, but the armed forces refused to consider using them or any man over age 26. Given these constraints, the system began to make it more difﬁcult for new men to obtain deferments.60 From being a mere nuisance, the draft now became a frightening reality for young men and their families. From being above political consideration, the system now became a subject of intense political debate. The draft during the 1950s, in response to demographic and defense trends, had created an array of devices to maximize eligibility while minimizing calls. Now it began to reverse course during an increasingly unpopular conﬂict in Southeast Asia. In the summer of 1966 local boards began to tap other than single, nonstudent men. An order of call was established that included delinquents, volunteers, singles, and men married since August 1965, over 26, and 181⁄2 to 19, with youngest ﬁrst.61 Local boards continued to operate on the principles established during World War II and the Korean War. The principles had public approval. The system’s fairness rating had been enviable. But now these same principles of discrimination, which placed priority on protecting the home and education, became subject to increased criticism. What had seemed fair in the past now seemed class discrimination. Although the protest was mainly rooted in frustration with the conduct of the war, the draft system began to bear the brunt of antiwar actions.62 Distaste for the system manifested itself in many ways, such as card burning and protest but also in legal evasion. The pattern of increased appeals of classiﬁcations had manifested itself ﬁrst during the Korean War. It continued with Vietnam. In 1953 there were 47 appeals per 1,000 compared to 3 per 1,000 at the end of World War II. In June 1969 the system responded to an average of 98 appeals per 1,000 1-A registrants.63 A similar growth appeared in outright violations of the law, which rose from 4 per 100 registered in 1966 to 12.5 in 1970. Such violations had little effect on the draft’s ability to meet calls. In 1968 over 1,000 inductions occurred each day, with 340,000 for the year.64 The draft did its job (see Table 5.2), but now it began to lose its support in Congress and the White House. Once the system lost bipartisan support and became the object of protest, its days were numbered. As early as March 1966 Republicans sensed that conscription was the weak point in Johnson’s coalition. Opposing or calling for reform of the draft provided a more respectable means of undermining Johnson without adopting the radical posture of the antiwar movement.65 When induction authority came up for renewal in 1967 the scene was

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Table 5.2 Draft Efﬁciency, 1953–196766

set for a major political battle. The system, which had been designed for mobilizing troops to ﬁght in the total wars of 1917 and 1941, had remained virtually unchanged in an age of limited, colonial conﬂict. Some of the same faces manned ofﬁces in 1940 and 1967. This continuity had its advantages but also caused problems when the system was asked to ﬁnd men to ﬁght a dubious war in Southeast Asia. The various deferment schemes erected in the 1950s now came in for criticism on the grounds of equity. Johnson’s attempts to reform the system failed to satisfy antiwar critics and alienated many conservative congressmen loyal to the old draft. The draft bill that passed in June 1967 represented an unsatisfactory compromise. Johnson had to have a bill because without the draft he could not continue the war in Vietnam. Yet his efforts to create national guidelines, to reduce student deferments, and to adopt a lottery system of selection were all rejected by Congress. The president had to be satisﬁed with a few token changes, such as the appointment of women on local boards and a mandatory retirement system. The vote in both houses was strong, but the overwhelming majorities of the past had disappeared. The signs were clear: The draft had become a partisan target, and if the war continued for much longer, it would be a growing political burden to the administration.67 The future of the system revolved around the war. Public opinion reﬂected this connection. In 1945, 79 percent thought local boards were fair. In 1953 some 60 percent continued to support the system. By August 1966

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only 49 percent agreed that draft boards were fair, and 39 percent said they were unfair. Johnson’s handling of the war also became suspect. A Gallup poll of February 1968 had half the respondents disapproving of his actions.68 If Johnson could quickly end the war, the system might survive, even with its defects. The Vietnam War had made the draft a political football. And Johnson could not end the war. It was the context of the unpopular war rather than anything intrinsic to the draft that created problems in the late 1960s. The internal character of the American draft was part of the explanation of why it survived so long. One feature of the system—inconsistency of classiﬁcation—which provoked heated debate during the Vietnam War, was rooted in its decentralized organization. Yet it was precisely this decentralization that contributed to the system’s popularity and that made the American system different from the schemes adopted in Britain and France.69 NOTES 1. See the following works: John L. Gaddis, The Long Peace (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987); idem, Russia, the Soviet Union and the United States (New York: Wiley, 1978); S. J. Ball, The Cold War: An International History (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998). 2. Gerald Whiteley, “The British Experience with Peacetime Conscription,” Army Quarterly and Defense Journal 117 (July 1987): 322; Adrian Walker, Six Campaigns: National Servicemen on Active Service 1948–1960 (London: Leo Cooper, 1993), p. i. 3. Army Council Secretariat brief for Cab. Defence Com. on introd. of permanent conscription, 16 October 1946, p. 3, War Ofﬁce 32/12242 (hereafter cited as WO), Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO). 4. L. V. Scott, Conscription and the Attlee Governments: The Politics and Policy of National Service 1945–1951 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 186; Whiteley, “British Experience,” p. 322. 5. “Outline of History of National Service,” unsigned memo, 1/M1579//1960, PRO/Lab6/682, pp. 15–16. 6. Liddell-Hart (hereafter cited as LH) notes for history, 29 November 1947, Liddell-Hart Papers (hereafter cited as LHP), 11/1947/21, King’s College, London; LH to Aidan Crawley, 29 March 1949, ibid., 1/200/7; Christopher Buckley to LH, 5 April 1947, ibid., 1/125/26; LH to Buckley, 14 April 1947, ibid., 1/125/27; Whiteley, “Experience,” p. 321. 7. Scott, Conscription, p. 259; Whiteley, “Experience,” p. 321. 8. Whiteley, “British Experience,” pp. 321–322; Commons Committee on laws memo, 12 November 1946, PRO/Lab6/295; Nash to Secretary, 16 August 1948, ibid./322; “Outline of History of National Service,” pp. 19–22. 9. Draft of regulations for National Service Men (NSM), 11 August 1948, PRO/WO32/12896; Pamphlet on national service (NS), 1 January 1950, ibid./ 13783; copy 11 & 12 Geo. 6, ch. 64, in ibid./13249; Ofﬁcial release by MLNS, 22 May 1958, PRO/Lab6/685.

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10. Quotes from Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 323, p. 341; Walker, Six Campaigns, p. ii. 11. Feldman, “An Ilusion of Power,” III: 236. 12. Maurice Faivre, Les Nations arme´es de la guerre des peuples a` la guerre des etoiles (Paris: FEDN, 1988), p. 186n; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 772. 13. David Lodge’s Ginger You’re Barmy (London: Penguin, 1962) and Arnold Wesker’s Chips with Everything (London: Penguin Plays, 1963) are representative. 14. For France in the post–World War II period see Richard Bernstein, Fragile Glory: A Portrait of France and the French (New York: Knopf, 1990); for the role of de Gaulle, see Jean Lacouture, De Gaulle: The Ruler, 1945–1970, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: Norton, 1991). 15. Myron J. Echenberg, “Paying the Blood Tax: Military Conscription in French West Africa, 1914–1929,” Canadian Journal of African Studies (Canada) 9(2) (1975): 171; George A. Kelly, Lost Soldiers: The French Army and Empire in Crisis, 1947–1962 (Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T Press, 1965), p. 107; M. CliffordVaughan, “Changing Attitudes to the Army’s Role in French Society,” British Journal of Sociology 15 (December 1964): 348. 16. Echenberg, “Paying,” p. 171; Kelly, Lost Soldiers, p. 107; Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes,” p. 348; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 773; Study on length of tour, 7 November 1951, 6T296, EMAT, 1oBur, Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV). 17. Maurice Larkin, France since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936–1986 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), pp. 232–234. For France in Vietnam see: Peter M. Dunn, The First Vietnam War (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1985); Bernard B. Fall, Hell in a Very Small Place (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1966), idem, Street without Joy (Harrisburg Pa.: Stackpole, 1966); for recent bibliography, see David C. Marr, Vietnam (Santa Barbara, Calif.: Clio, 1992). 18. Larkin, France, pp. 236–237. 19. Faivre, Les Nations, p. 186n.; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 772 (150,000 other troops were also ﬁghting for France, not from the metropole). 20. Note for Gen. Major Gen. de Arme´es Forces by Vezinet, Mins. of National Defense, 13 March 1951, MACV, 6T296, EMAT, 1oBur; meeting of 9 October 1951, Cabinet of Nat. Defense, MACV, 6T296, EMAT, 1oBur; Note for Cabinet of Nat. Def., 20 October 1951, ibid.; Note on adoption of two-year service, by Secretary of State of War, E´tat-Major de l’Arme´e, 21 December 1951, MACV, 6T296–1, EMAT, 1oBur/EG. 21. Quote in Kelly, Lost Soldiers, p. 51; Larkin, France, p. 236; Fiche on twoyear service, 24 April 1962, MACV, 6T296, EMAT, 1oBur. 22. Kelly, Lost Soldiers, pp. 52–53; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 778, 780. 23. Alistair Horne’s A Savage War of Peace: Algeria, 1954–1962 (New York: Viking, 1977) offers an extensive treatment. 24. Kelly, Lost Soldiers, pp. 176–177 25. Horne, Savage, pp. 151–152, 299. 26. Ibid., pp. 231, 347, 415–416; quote in Kelly, Lost Soldiers, p. 299. 27. Kelly, Lost Soldiers, pp. 299, 322; Horne, Savage, p. 457.

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28. Selective Service, Selective Service under the 1948 Act Extended (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), p. 3; James M. Gerhardt, The Draft and Public Policy (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1971), p. 128; John M. Kendall, “An Inﬂexible Response: United States Army Manpower Mobilization Policies, 1945– 1957” (Ph.D. diss., Duke University, 1982), p. 152; C. Joseph Bernardo & E. H. Bacon, American Military Policy (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1957, reprint, 1977), p. 476. 29. Stephen E. Ambrose, Rise to Globalism: American Foreign Policy since 1938, 4th ed. (New York: Penguin, 1985), pp. 113–115. 30. George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion, 1935–1971, 3 vols. (New York: Random House, 1972), II: 889. 31. Patterson to Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., 1 June 1950, Box 45, Robert Patterson Papers, Manuscript Room, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as LC). 32. For how war came, see Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea (New York: Times, 1988); Joseph C. Goulden, Korea: The Untold Story of the War (New York: Times Books, 1982); and Bruce Cumings, The Origins of the Korean War (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1987). 33. Gerhardt, Draft, pp. 110, 128; Richard Gillam, “Peacetime Draft,” in Martin Anderson, ed., The Military Draft: Selected Readings on Conscription (Stanford, Calif.: Hoover Institution, 1982), p. 111; Selective Service, Selective Service under the 1948 Act (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1951), p. 136; Selective Service under the 1948 Act Extended, p. 5. 34. Kendall, “Inﬂexible,” pp. 2, 158, 179. 35. Selective Service under the 1948 Act Extended, p. 7; Kendall, “Inﬂexible,” pp. 167, 170, 172, 180, 183, 201; Gerhardt, Draft, p. 148. 36. Robert J. Donovan, Tumultuous Years: The Presidency of Harry S. Truman, 1949–1953 (New York: Norton, 1982), p. 254; Samuel P. Huntington, The Common Defense: Strategic Programs in National Politics (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), p. 279. 37. Kendall, “Inﬂexible,” pp. 190; Hershey to J. William Fulbright, 3 November 1950, Xerox 2606/SD370.01, B595, George C. Marshall Papers, Marshall Res. Center, Lexington, Va. (hereafter cited as GCMP). 38. Kendall, “Inﬂexible,” pp. 185–186; U.S. Department of Commerce, Historical Statistics of the United States, 2 pts. (Washington D.C.: GPO, 1975), II: 1143. 39. Kendall, “Inﬂexible,” p. 193; J. D. Small to Hershey, 12 December 1950, xerox 2606/SD370.01, B595, GCMP. 40. Rosenberg for President, 18 October 1952, WHCF, DOD, Box 15, Harry S. Truman Papers, Truman Library, Independence, Mo. (hereafter cited as HST); Selective Service under the 1948 Act Extended, p. 65; Selective Service, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service 1952 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), p. 17; idem, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1953 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1954), pp. 1, 11–2, 26. See “Selective Service Sample Inventory,” 30 April 1953, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle, Pa. (hereafter cited as LBH). 41. Roger Little, “Procurement of Manpower,” in Roger Little, ed., Selective Service and American Society (New York: Russell Sage, 1969), p. 27; Samuel H.

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Hays, “A Military View of Selective Service,” in Sol Tax, ed., The Draft: A Handbook of Facts and Alternatives (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967), p. 12; Samuel H. Hays, Defense Manpower: The Management of Military Conscription (Washington, D.C.: ICAF, 1968), p. 7; Victory Hicken, The American Fighting Man (New York: Macmillan, 1969), p. 191. 42. Thomas D. Morris, “Department of Defense Report on Study of the Draft,” in Martin Anderson, ed., The Military Draft: Selected Readings on Conscription (Stanford, Calif.: Hoover Institution, 1982), p. 550. 43. Eliot A. Cohen, Citizens & Soldiers: The Dilemmas of Military Service (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1985), p. 105; E. Suchman, R. M. Williams, & R. K. Goldsen, “Student Reaction to Impending Military Service,” American Sociological Review 18 (June 1953): 300; Gallup, Gallup Poll, II: 1052–1053. 44. Gerhardt, Draft, p. 284. 45. “Vietnam Buildup: Expanding without Strain,” Business Week, 7 August 1965, p. 25; Harry A. Marmion, Selective Service: Conﬂict and Compromise (New York: Wiley, 1968), p. 59; Earl G. Wheeler, interview, August 1969 and March 1970, Lyndon B. Johnson Papers, Johnson Library, Austin, Tex. (hereafter cited as LBJ), p. 18; quote from Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1984), p. 661. See also William W. Berg to Rep. Julia B. Hansen, 26 September 1966, whcf, gen nd 9–4, ct. 150, LBJ; Zeb B. Bradford, Jr., and F. J. Brown, The United States Army in Transition (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1973), p. 39; Cohen, Citizens, p. 115. 46. In 1951 the Universal Military Training and Service Act established Selective Service on a permanent basis but required that draft induction authority be renewed every four years. 47. George Q. Flynn, The Draft, 1940–1973 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1993), p. 168. 48. Paul Conkin, Big Daddy from the Pernales, Lyndon B. Johnson (Boston: Twayne, 1987), p. 269; George C. Herring, America’s Longest War: The United States and Vietnam, 1950–1975 (New York: Wiley, 1986), pp. 139–40; Historical Statistics, II: 1141. 49. George Q. Flynn, Lewis B. Hershey, Mr. Selective Service (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985), pp. 208–209, 211–213, 221–222. 50. “How Fair Is the Draft? As High School Students See It,” Senior Scholastics 87 (2 December 1965): 16; Jerome Johnston & Jerald G. Bachman, Young Men Look at Military Service: A Preliminary Report (Ann Arbor, Mich.: Institute for Social Research, 1970), p. 12. 51. Robert K. Grifﬁth, Jr., Men Wanted for the U.S. Army: America’s Experience with an All-Volunteer Army (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1982), p. 219; Historical Statistics, I: 10, II: 1143. 52. Selective Service Newsletter (hereafter cited as SS), February 1965, p. 1; Speech by Fitt, 11 November 1967, Fitt Papers, cont. 5, LBJ; Grifﬁth, Men Wanted, p. 219. 53. Gerhardt, Draft, pp. 273–274; John Graham, “Historical Survey,” National Advisory Committee on Selective Service (hereafter cited as NACSS), Box 37, RG 220, National Archives, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as NA); Bernard D. Karpinos, “Examination of Youths for Military Service,” 10 October 1966, in Box 50,

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ibid.; Elinor Langer, “Vietnam: Growing War and Campus Protests Threaten Student Deferments,” Science 150 (17 December 1965): 1568. 54. Flynn, Hershey, p. 234; Gerhardt, Draft, p. 273; Studies Prepared for the President’s Commission on an All-Volunteer Armed Force (T. Gates), Report (Washington, D.C: GPO, 1970), p. 166 (hereafter cited as Gates Report); Fitt speech, 11/11/67, Fitt papers, cont. 5, LBJ; Edward B. Glick, “The Draft and Nonmilitary National Service,” Military Review 49 (December 1969): 86; David S. Surrey, Choice of Conscience: Vietnam Era Military and Draft Resisters in Canada (New York: Praeger, 1982), p. 37. 55. Gerhardt, Draft, pp. 277–278; SS, November 1967, p. 1; U.S. Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on Employment, Manpower and Poverty, Hearings on Manpower Implications of Selective Service, 90th Cong., 1st sess., 20–23 March, 4–6 April 1967, p. 55; Grifﬁth, Men Wanted, p. 219 says 50 percent of combat deaths; Cohen, Citizens, p. 107, says 70 percent; Robert K. Grifﬁth, Jr., “About Face? The U.S. Army and the Draft,” Armed Forces and Society 12 (Fall 1985): 117. 56. Quote in David R. Segal, “How Equal Is ‘Equity’?” Society 18(3) (1981): 31–33; Roger Little, “For Choice, Not Chance,” Society 18 (1981): 50; Bradford Brown, Army, p. 40. See also Patricia M. Shields, “The Burden of the Draft: The Vietnam Years,” Journal of Political and Military Sociology 9(2) (1981): 226. 57. Segal, “How Equal,” pp. 31–33; quote from Neil D. Fligstein, Who Served in the Military 1940–1973? (Madison, Wis.: Center for Demography, 1976), pp. 43–44; see also Fligstein, “Who Served in the Military, 1940–1973,” Armed Forces and Society 6 (Winter 1979): 297–312. 58. “Who Goes to War,” Economist, 9 July 1966, p. 143; Michael Useem, Conscription, Protest, and Social Conﬂict: The Life and Death of a Draft Resistance Movement (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1973), p. 164; Hershey to Mendel Rivers, 28 April 1966, Cong. ﬁle, LBH; U.S. Congress, Senate, Committee on Appropriations, Hearings on Independent Ofﬁces Appropriations, 89th Cong., 2nd sess., 25 May 1965, p. 653; Business Week, 26 February 1966, p. 44. 59. New York Times, 1 September 1965, p. 17; idem, 18 November 1965, p. 6; Washington Sunday Star, 16 December 1965. 60. U.S. News & World Report, 10 January 1966, p. 41; SS, February 1966, p. 3; Dan Omer, “The Selective Service Today,” in June A. Willenz, ed., Dialogue on the Draft (Washington, D.C.: American. Veterans Committee, 1967), p. 16; SS, September 1966, p. 1; New York Times, 4 October 1966, p. 1; Summary of Responses to LB questionnaires, n.d., NACSS, Box 44, RG 220, NA. For effect on tactics, see Little, “For Choice,” p. 50. 61. Newsweek, 28 February 1966, p. 21; Dee Ingold, “Discussion: The Present System of Selective Service,” in Sol Tax, ed., The Draft: A Handbook of Facts and Alternatives (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967), p. 303; Bruce Chapman, “Selective Service and National Needs,” The Reporter, 16 June 1966, p. 16; Albert A. Blum, Drafted or Deferred: Practices Past and Present (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1967), p. 225. 62. Responses to Local Board opinion questions, n.d., Box 1, NACSS, RG 220; Minutes of meeting of National Selective Service Scientiﬁc Advisory Group (NSSSAG), 16 February 1966, Science Adv. folder, LBH, MHI. 63. Robert B. Smith, “Disaffection, Delegitimation and Consequences: Aggregate Trends for World War II, Korea and Vietnam,” in Charles C. Moskos, Jr., ed.,

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Public Opinion and the Military Establishment (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1971), pp. 229, 233, 235. 64. Peter Karsten, Soldiers and Society: The Effects of Military Service and War on American Life (Westport, Conn: Greenwood Press, 1978), pp. 118, 127; Useem, Conscription, pp. 58–60, 104; James W. Davis, Jr., & Kenneth M. Dolbeare, Little Groups of Neighbors: The Selective Service System (Chicago: Markham, 1968), p. 98; Hershey editorial, 14 August 1968, alpha ﬁle, LBH, MHI; Stephen M. Kohn, Jailed for Peace: The History of American Draft Law Violators, 1658–1985 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1986), p. 116. 65. New York Times, 22 December 1965, p. 3; Washington Post, 13 March 1966. 66. Clark to President, 6 November 1967, whcf, nd 9–4, ct. 148, LBJ. The ﬁgures show that the percentage of men who failed to report actually went down during the Vietnam period, and the percentage of prosecutions went up. Although nearly twice as many men were called in 1953 as in 1967, more than three times as many failed to report in 1953. See Clark memo for President, 16 November 1967, ex fg 282, cont. 303, LBJ; Clark for President, 6 November 1967, whcf nd 9–4, ct. 148, LBJ; Califano to President, 18 November 1967, ibid.; Selective Service, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1954 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1955), p. 30. 67. Califano for President, 29 June 1967, ex le/ma, ct. 140, LBJ; Gary L. Wamsley, Selective Service and a Changing America: A Study of OrganizationalEnviromental Relationships (Columbus, Ohio: Merrill, 1969), pp. 231–232; U.S. Draft Policy, July 1968, p. 1. 68. Smith, “Disaffection,” p. 235; Harold E. Klein, “Attitudes toward Military Service and Career Patterns of Youth,” in Willenz, Dialogue, p. 64. 69. Gerald F. Linderman, “Commentary on ‘Roots of American Military Policy,’ ” in Garry D. Ryan & T. K. Nenninger, eds., Soldiers and Civilians: The U.S. Army and the American People (Washington, D.C.: National Archives, 1987), p. 41; Smith, “Disaffection,” pp. 221, 223, 225, 227.

Chapter 6

Operating the System The conscription procedures developed by Britain, France, and the United States in the 20th century were a function of their cultural priorities and political principles. While there were many similarities in systems, each found it necessary to develop arrangements to satisfy unique political demands. The United States was alone in developing a highly decentralized system with reliance upon civilian volunteers at the local level. The French organized their system on a centralized basis within the military establishment, with only marginal contribution from civilians. Britain used government civilians and some local volunteers but kept tight national control over all aspects of conscription. GREAT BRITAIN The British had learned some hard lessons on how to organize conscription during World War I. Here the system was added late, as a second thought, and proved rather inefﬁcient. Not until August 1917 was a Department of National Service created under the leadership of Sir Auckland Geddes and within the Labour Ministry. Geddes ﬁnally achieved some control over manpower allocation for both the military and industry, but the operation was slow in developing. By December 1917 the armed forces were short between 500,000 and 600,000 men, and industry immediately needed another 100,000, with 400,000 more required in the near future. The rather lame response to these shortages was a government recommendation that the commanders in France use men more sparingly. Not until February 1918 was a draft act passed decertifying ﬁt men in industry for call-up. The war ended in November.1

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During the 1930s several British governments had pledged no conscription. Such a pledge did not preclude planning how to run such a system. As early as the fall of 1938, the government began planning for a national registration of its manpower resources. A public opinion poll in October that year indicated 78 percent felt this was best done immediately. The Ministry of Labour had the responsibility of organizing such a register, which would provide information on occupations, age, and location to be used in the event of war. Local employment exchanges of the ministry were to obtain names, ages, and skills and offer advice about where the individual could best serve. Similar arrangements would be made for women at the local level.2 At the same time the government made plans to establish a professional register of persons with special skills. Recalling the confusion wrought by uncontrolled volunteering in World War I, the British were determined to identify and protect their specialized manpower. The ministry planned a central bureau that would act with universities and professional organizations and institutions to name such individuals, who might be in the sciences or industry. British physicians were to be identiﬁed by the British Medical Association. The British, unlike the egalitarian-driven Americans, were committed to skimming off the cream of manpower before it ﬂowed into the ranks of conscripted soldiers. Beyond this register of special individuals, the plan also envisioned blanket deferments based on a Schedule of Reserved Occupations (SRO) established by discussions between the armed forces, industry, and the ministry.3 On 23 January 1939 the prime minister announced a “National Service Appeal” to the nation, “conﬁdent that we shall get all the volunteers we want without recourse to compulsion.” Events soon made the appeal appear inadequate. Hitler struck at the remainder of Czechoslovakia, and Chamberlain made his pledge to Poland.4 In May the government passed a National Training Act, which created a six-month compulsory training liability on males ages 20 and 21. Anyone guilty of violating the act was subject to two years in prison. The Ministry of Labour was responsible for the rules and regulations and for the registration, but either house of Parliament could veto any regulation.5 This measure, although superseded September 1939 by a National Service (Armed Forces) Act, created the national service system that Britain used for conscription. In stafﬁng the various boards for administering the system, the British government revealed a bias toward elites that resembled the volunteers chosen for local boards in the United States. To head up the local committees the ministry wanted to ﬁnd people that were “of considerable standing and competence.” A list of candidates for Wales revealed an extraordinary number of “Lords,” “Sirs,” and former ofﬁcers.6 The British appointments demonstrated more recognition of economic class than did the American local boards. Because the initial planning for

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the system had been based on a voluntary registration, the government sought to ensure that local board members came from both the managerial class and the working class. Names arrived from the Chambers of Trade and Commerce but also from the Trade Union Congress. The existence of the Labour Party as the major opposition and the anticipation of a war government of national union contributed to this greater sensitivity to class.7 When the war began on 1 September 1939 the National Service (Armed Forces) Act superseded the Military Training Act. The Ministry of Labour became the Ministry of Labour and National Service (MLNS). The call-up was now for service in the armed forces rather than training and for the duration of the emergency rather than six months. The age of liability was extended to ages 18 to 41 for registration, and those already registered under the training act were considered registered under the new act. All decisions concerning deferment or appeals taken under the early act were continued in force.8 This initial conscription act became the basis for all subsequent laws until the end of the system in 1960. It required that eligible young men provide particulars about themselves during registration. Under the law the government could make revisions and regulations as deemed necessary, including the exemption “from any requirements of the regulations for any class of persons.” Any regulation or revision, however, had to be put before Parliament as soon as possible. Either house had 40 days in which to cancel a regulation. Any registrant who provided false information was subject to three months in jail or a ﬁne of £50.9 Age liability changed at various times during the history of conscription. On 5 March 1942 a Royal proclamation raised the upper age to 46. The initial age range of 18 to 40 was expanded up to age 50 by the National Service (No. 2) Act, passed in December 1941. The next year in December another revision reduced the liability to 17 years 8 months for registration, but call-up was not authorized until age 18. After mid-1943 registrations took place every 3 months as men became eligible. Liability also expanded by tightening up deferments and revising the SRO.10 Registration was handled not by local volunteers, as in the United States, but by the local employment exchange of the MLNS. More important, in contrast to the American system of registering and classifying each man when he reached age 18, the British government announced a registration for particular age groups as it required them. Instead of having a backlog of men registered and examined, whose conditions were changing daily, the British system allowed a sort of “just in time” delivery. The government also registered men for both armed force duty and civilian jobs at the same time.11 The procedure was to announce a registration for a particular age group through the newspaper, radio, posters, and other means. When the man

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appeared at his local labor ofﬁce, he provided full particulars about his age, job, address, and education. He had an opportunity to express a preference for service in a special branch—navy, air force, or army. If he possessed certain skills he was automatically earmarked for either a military or civilian job ﬁtting that skill. If he claimed exemption or deferred status or conscientious objection, this information was duly recorded. In exchange for this information he received a certiﬁcate of registration, which he had to carry with him at all times for identiﬁcation. During World War II a local ofﬁce processed 300 to 500 men each hour.12 In addition to this general registration by age group, the MLNS also instituted several central registers for highly specialized personnel in science, engineering, and shipbuilding. If men were in a reserved profession but below the age of reservation, the central register, upon which they were named, was consulted about possible deferment. Employers seeking special talent applied to these central registers for men.13 Registration began on 21 October 1939 of men aged 20 to 23. By May 1940 men up to age 27 were registered. The registration of older groups took place over the next few months. The system was quite sophisticated because it was timed to cope with expected calls by the armed forces. The ministry always had a small pool of men in excess but avoided creating a huge stockpile of registered men in limbo because the service lacked the training facilities. Men not registered were free to volunteer for services or continue their education. But when more men were needed, the system responded quickly. In July 1940 four different age groups of men born in the period 1906 to 1909 were registered, a total of 1,298,450 men. The navy, for example, informed the ministry in October 1940 that it needed 6,000 to 7,000 men per month for the next 12 months. Allowing for a rejection rate of 10 percent, the ministry knew exactly what it needed on registration tables.14 Ensuring that all men in the class selected actually did register was a rather tedious proposition. As in the United States, peer pressure played a big role. Registrants were required to produce their card upon the request of a uniformed constable. There was also an attempt to compare the names registered for service with the National Register of Births at Kew Record Ofﬁce. During the war some 500,000 cases were identiﬁed and checked. Most had either already registered or had joined the forces, but 1,000 cases remained of nonregistering individuals. After the war the ministry compared names with those held by the Ministry of Pensions and National Insurance.15 Despite the delinquents, the results of the registration procedure were satisfactory. In the ﬁrst two years all men liable had been registered. Some 306,000 for each age class and a total of over 7,000,000 men had been put on the rolls. By March 1944 some 7,970,000 were registered. When the age of liability was dropped to under 18 and raised up to 45, more

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men came under the act. Under national service, men born between 1 July 1900 and 30 June 1926 were covered. For registration for employment another 1,933,000 were registered. Women born from 1893 to 1925 were also registered for a total of 11,450,000. It was quite an achievement.16 Classifying the liable men followed registration. This involved a physical exam, trying to ﬁnd a logical assignment, determining if any were eligible for deferments, and dealing with appeals over classiﬁcation status. The British system enjoyed considerable ﬂexibility because the law provided that the MLNS could make different provisions for different groups of registered men, including exemption from registration. Such group preferences were illegal in the American system. Because there were not enough trained ofﬁcers to staff the various boards, over half of the chairs of the district manpower boards came from civilian life with special commissions.17 Classiﬁcation and even assignment began at the ﬁrst level of work. Local boards during registration could automatically exempt from military duty men found within the prescribed age of reservation for a particular skill or job. When men with a special skill were not covered by the SRO, the local board could note his skill and ensure that he was not assigned to general service duty but could be called only for a service tradesmen position. The local board also conﬁrmed by letter to his employer the man’s occupational data. After all this work, the registration cards were forwarded to an allocation local ofﬁce.18 It was at this level that the man was classiﬁed to serve in the armed forces. The men appeared after six days’ notice. After screening out men under reservation and men who had applied for a deferment or delay in call and conscientious objectors, the allocation ofﬁce arranged for a physical exam for each registrant. Medical boards attached to each allocation ofﬁce consisted of four or ﬁve physicians appointed from a list by the Ministry of Health. The examinee was graded and put into one of four different categories, with only the lowest level being rejected. Appeals from this decision could be made only upon the submission of new medical evidence.19 Service recruiting ofﬁces were located at each allocation board. Once a man had been graded as service eligible, he was interviewed by the recruiting ofﬁcer of his choice. After a quick session, the ofﬁcer made a recommendation for posting. The cards of all eligible men were then forwarded to a divisional ofﬁce of the MLNS, which kept a register of men for posting, with tradesmen kept separate.20 The British system of call-up was also unique in that the civilian ministry played a major role in the posting of men. Initially, the three branches of the armed forces each notiﬁed the MLNS of needs. These ﬁgure were then allocated by quotas to the divisional ofﬁces of the ministry and to the chief recruiting ofﬁcer of each service who sat with the divisional ofﬁce. The eligible men had already been determined by exams and interviews by local allocation ofﬁces, which sent the records of eligibles to the regional ofﬁces.

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These regional or divisional ofﬁces then issued the enlistment notice that posted the men to particular military units.21 This procedure was unusual in that it placed a military requirement upon a civilian agency. The short interview by a military ofﬁcer at the allocation center hardly amounted to much. Yet the men were then enlisted into “units” of the armed forces upon receiving a notice from the MLNS.22 The system worked well, but there were problems, such as many men in the wrong units. Eventually the assignment of men to particular units had to be assumed by the armed forces. After July 1942 men posted into the army went to a General Service Corps and then to training centers where they were subjected to various skill and aptitude tests before ﬁnal assignment. The assignment of skilled men also created havoc. These men, if not reserved, could be called up to serve only in their occupation. But an investigation by Sir William Beveridge in May 1941 indicated they were being malutilized by the army. Civilian industry, desperate for workers, was screaming for a change in reservation age to obtain these skilled men. Beveridge reported the usual malassignment that occurs in any organization as large and as under pressure as the British army. The government responded by halting the call-up of men with mechanical and electrical engineering skills and kept the ban in place until August 1942, when the army provided an effective rebuttal to charges.23 Despite these problems, the system held up well. From October 1939 to the end of July 1940 some 830,750 men were posted to the various services, 735,750 to the army alone. This was more than adequate to meet demand. In fact, there was some concern that the services were stockpiling men, especially those with high skills. In October 1940 the army upped its requirements by 50 percent beyond what had initially been planned. Where the initial call was for 300,000, the army now wanted 435,000.24 To cope with the higher demand, the government took several steps to revise conscription. First, and most important, the prime minister established the principle of a ceiling to the manpower demands of the armed forces, particularly the army. This idea of a limit to what the military could expect from British society was important in forcing a degree of realism upon planners. While it is true that the initial ceiling of 2,195,000 eventually crept up to 2,374,800 in autumn 1941, the principle was at least upheld. In addition, the government moved to lower the call-up age to 18, although promising not to send a man to battle before age 20. Women were also subjected to compulsory service to relieve more men for military duty, and general national service for civilian work was adopted for the age group 18 to 60. These principles were put forth in the National Service (No. 2) Act, which passed on 18 December 1941. Thanks to these revisions, and a ﬂexible deferment policy, the MLNS had no trouble in meeting military calls for the rest of the war.25

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In dealing with deferments the British system again displayed considerable ﬂexibility. The British used the SRO to establish block deferments for men in special industries based on age. But this system was dynamic and changed during World War II. The agencies responsible for monitoring deferments were the District Manpower Boards, some 44 throughout the nation. Each board consisted of a chair, a labor control ofﬁcer, a technical ofﬁcer, a deferment ofﬁcer, and a representative of the forces. It received applications from three different sources: men newly registered who wished a deferment, men with a deferment who sought a renewal, and men originally protected by a SRO but now eligible because of a change in the age of reservation.26 In acting on an application, the board tried to establish three issues: Was the man engaged in work of national importance? Was the work he performed critical to the industry? Could someone not liable for duty replace him? In establishing these facts the board sought information from defense supply departments in the area, from the employer, and from the worker himself. The local recruiting ofﬁcer of the armed forces was also consulted about the needs of the services. The information was scrutinized in private without a public hearing.27 Normally, the request for deferment came from the employer, who applied to the local allocation ofﬁce, which forwarded the information to the district board. When the deferment resulted from a change in the protected age of a schedule of reservation, the employer was generally given a month’s notice in advance. If there was no application from the employer, the individual worker could make his own application when he submitted to his medical exam.28 The terms of deferment varied according to circumstances. The board could grant a deferment for a speciﬁc period of time or for an indeﬁnite period, an option prohibited by law under the American system. Any deferment granted for a deﬁnite period was subject to renewal. Normally, if the person had a key skill needed in another industry, he would be transferred to a new job with a new deferment. If he was not needed in another job, he was reported for call-up in the military.29 Since the British system was based on regulations rather than statute, it could be revised easily. In the early period the district boards fell behind in processing deferments and were too generous in those granted. Orders arrived from the MLNS to tighten up the criteria, increase the percentage of rejected deferments, and send for military service six times as many as the current average. Another means of increasing the call-up numbers was to adjust the age of reservation in the various schedules. The reservation of men below the age of 25 became almost impossible after December 1940.30 Another major revision of the system occurred in late 1941. The principle of bloc reservation was replaced with what amounted to individual defer-

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ments. No longer could a man count on being deferred if he met the age and industry requirements under the SRO. Now he also had to be doing a vital job in the industry. The age of reservation for most of the occupations was to be raised one year at a time each month. All existing deferments were reviewed for possible “comb-out” to obtain soldiers.31 In 1942 lists of jobs were published for which men under 25 could not be considered for deferment. Instead of blanket deferments, the government now adopted blanket eligibility. The percentage of men allowed deferments shrank steadily. The old principle had been that a deferment could be renewed until a substitute was found. The ministry now took the man despite the absence of a replacement.32 One particular feature of the British system of deferment that distinguished it from both the American and French systems was the creation of special deferments for special people.33 Special advisory boards were created to deal with requests for deferments from special professions. When librarians and schoolteachers sought a deferment the MLNS referred matters to the Board of Education. A similar arrangement emerged for such professions as the law, ﬁnance, and the press. In the case of scientists and technicians, a special national board had jurisdiction or referral responsibility. At universities the Joint Recruiting Boards took care of deferring students working toward useful degrees. Physicians operated under their own board for deferment until qualiﬁcation.34 Despite this special treatment, deferments became more and more difﬁcult to obtain. Each year of the war saw an increase in the percentage of deferments rejected. During the war the manpower boards had considered some 4,723,000 deferment requests from males. Of this total they rejected 660,000, or 14 percent.35 The conscription law in Britain, like the United States and France, also provided for an appeal apparatus for men who were dissatisﬁed with their treatment. If a man was denied a delay in call-up, he could appeal to a Military Service (Hardship) Committee. These tribunals were in all districts and consisted of supposedly impartial persons appointed by the MLNS. If the decision of the committee failed to satisfy the registrant, he had ﬁnal recourse to an umpire, whose decision was ﬁnal. The number of appeals never rose very high during the war, but contention did occur over the regulation that prohibited legal representation before the hearing board.36 FRANCE The French pride themselves on their differences from other Europeans. They can make a strong case by pointing to their conscription system. In contrast to the jerry-rigged arrangements put together by the United States and Britain in the 20th century, France developed a system that became a part of the fabric of its life and culture. In the 19th century, and in even a

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few villages in the 20th century, the French male celebrated his arrival at the age of conscription as a symbol of his maturity. Villages held lively fetes, which were occasions for fraternity and virility, with females excluded. Once a conscript, always a conscript, and veterans helped celebrate the arrival of a new cohort each year. French conscription, therefore, had a life independent of military service, which was its raison d’eˆtre.37 When the French decided to recodify their laws dealing with conscription in 1970, the project was long overdue. The draft laws of 1928, 1932, 1935, and 1965 were still operational. The decision to codify all these rules and regulations came as a result of the crisis of demography that created some 350,000 exemptions among the liable classes. After some 50 amendments proposed by a special commission had been carefully scrutinized, the National Assembly adopted the code on 26 May 1971. The reﬁned code now consisted of “only” 160 articles, with 65 being entirely new. Complexity remained the hallmark of the French system.38 By the 1980s the system in charge of conscription had evolved into a mighty bureaucracy. At the top stood the Direction Centrale du Service National (DCSN), a central directorate that was responsible directly to the minister of defense for operation policy. The chiefs of staff of the various armed services also gave direction to the DCSN on requirements. Under the DCSN were 6 regional directors, Direction regional de Service National (DRSN), 12 Bureaus de Service National (BSNS), and 10 Centres de la se´lection (CSs). In addition the DSN had archives at Chartres and Pau and several overseas BSNs and CSs. The agency kept records on 35 million French citizens, answered 1.5 million letters each year, ﬁlled and checked some 3 million ofﬁcial documents, selected 450,000 youth, and eventually inducted some 265,000 men in 1990. Records were retained on French males from age 18 until age 91.39 The procedure facing French youth varied slightly in the 20th century, but the following general pattern has held. The ﬁrst step was the registration of male youth when they reach age 18, done at the city hall of each town or commune. Until 1971 the next step was a review or preliminary selection of each youth to determine eligibility, pass on deferments, and gather information. The data then went forward to the Bureau of the Service National. Since 1971 this screening involved “les trois jours,” three days of testing (later reduced to eight hours). Finally, after being classiﬁed, some youth were eligible for the call-up to active service, the date of which varied. The men were sent to places recommended by the selection boards. They spent two or three months in basic training and were then posted to their particular specialty. This simple process, however, hid a myriad of variations, exceptions, and deviations.40 On its face, registration seems a rather straightforward proposition. Using principles established by the conscription law of 1928, the state places the burden of registration upon the local government. Each mayor must

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publicize the annual registration for men who are or will be age 18 in the coming year. The registration is announced early in the year by means of posters and newspaper advertisements. The youth repairs to city hall with information establishing his citizenship and is duly registered by the ofﬁcial in charge of the census. Besides French youth, all males, even foreign nationals who intend to become citizens, living in the commune up to age 50 are liable for registration. If a youth fails to register one year, he must do so the next year. The registration includes information on the profession or employment, education, and family situation of the youth. On the basis of this information the mayor creates a national ﬁle for the youth and issues a national identiﬁcation number. The list is publicized for the perusal of the community and also forwarded to the central ofﬁce of recruitment and later to National Service.41 The government attempted to make these registration lists all-inclusive. French youth born or living in foreign lands were required to register at 18 with the diplomatic agent closest to hand. Foreign nationals living in France were sometimes registered, unless France had established a convention with their native state that provided reciprocal protection. Finally, French youth who had enlisted in the armed forces or volunteered for one of the forms of national service were also required to register in their home community.42 Some youth slipped through the net. If a youth born in a community failed to register, he was at ﬁrst declared a bon absent, or well absent. Copies of these names were sent to other regional directors of recruitment to see if the youth had registered elsewhere. If he had, the home list was corrected. In 1976 out of a registered class of 420,000 some 65,000 were originally in this bon absent category. If a man just forgot to register he was not given formal punishment but was registered and lost all opportunity for applying for deferment or some alternate service. Sometimes the failure to register was the result of bureaucratic bungling.43 Particular problems arose after World War II. After 1945 a general spirit of negligence spread among French youth, and there was a falling off of registration ﬁgures. The directors of the system spent enormous time in 1948 and 1949 trying to update the rolls to include men who had been neglected in 1946, 1947, and 1948 due to bureaucratic blunders, youthful carelessness, or just ignorance. The backlog of the class of 1948 alone amounted to over 15,000 at one time. As late as 1950 some 15 percent of the annual class was missed through simple negligence. The Paris area topped the list with about 30 percent failing to register. But the system kept after the men until age 34.44 The total numbers registered in the period since World War I ﬂuctuated only in the hollow years of the 1930s and in 1960 (see Table 6.1). The totals, of course, did not correspond to the number of young men enrolled in the armed forces. The class of 1970, for example, had a total of 435,000,

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Table 6.1 French Registration, 1920–199445

but of this some 40,000 were men who had neglected their original registration dates. Another 73,000 were thrown out as unﬁt by the selection centers, 20,000 more were excused for a variety of reasons, and another 100,000 had a deferment.46 Until 1971, after registration the eligibles were examined by the “Conseil de re´vision,” or committee of review. These committees functioned from 1920 to 1971 as a primary selection board. In 1954 regional selection centers were created that duplicated much of this work, leading to the dismantling of the older council in 1971. The councils met in three sessions of 21 days each, in December, April, and September. Their primary purpose was to verify the registration tables of each locality and rule on the eligibility of registrants. They considered the physical ﬁtness of the youth and any request for deferment or delay in call-up. They had the authority of authorizing an exemption, deferment, or delay in call-up. When meeting, the committee held two sessions each day of three and a half hours each and considered 50 to 60 youth per hour.47 The council proper consisted of three members: the prefect or his representative as president; a general counselor; and an ofﬁcer designated by military authority. In addition, there were two military physicians, the mayor, and a parliamentarian or general councilman of the canton. These latter members had the right to be heard but not to vote. If concerned over

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a physical issue, the prefect could order the candidate hospitalized for observation. The sessions were public, and decisions were by majority vote.48 In the period after World War II the next step for the eligible youth was to appear at the “Centres d’Appel,” call-up centers, for another examination and selection. Only those youth eligible for immediate call-up were examined. By the mid-1960s the call-up centers had been replaced by selection centers (CSs). Generally youth submitted to a selection center exam at least 20 days before call-up. The military provided transportation and a modest stipend for what amounted to three days of screening—the trois jours. While at the selection center the eligible youth were under military discipline. An orientation ofﬁcer met the youth and conducted an individual interview to determine if he was considering a deferment or delay request. If so, he received full information on how to apply. The basic steps of the selection involved a psychological exam, a medical exam, and a ﬁnal personal interview.49 The selection period afforded an opportunity for assessment of the youth’s military prospects. Potential assignments were based on the information obtained and the medical and mental aptitude of the youth. Unfortunately, the youth was so disoriented by the entire process that his contribution to the dialogue was frequently muted. Still, requests for service in special units or in special alternate assignments were presented and considered. By the 1990s this process had been reﬁned to one eight-hour day.50 After the selection the commander of the center prepared a report for each youth proposed “ﬁt for ofﬁce, not excused.” Before 1971 these reports went back to the local committee for another review and opportunity for appeal. If cleared for duty, the youth was then assigned to a unit. Not all registrants appeared at selection centers. Men who were beyond the age of military obligation were ignored. But men who were supposed to appear and did not were declared delinquent or insubordinate and sought by the authorities.51 The examination of draftees proceeded more or less along the same lines as in Britain and the United States. Originally the exam was done by the local “Conseil de re´vision,” which put the candidate in one of three categories: ﬁt for service, postponed for new exam, or unﬁt and exempt. When the selection centers appeared, they began to conduct their own exams. By 1970 a team of medical specialists looked over the candidates with the view of creating a medical proﬁle, the SIGYCOP.* The exam led to a rating with a coefﬁcient from one to seven, with one being best and seven being unﬁt. If the youth wished to appeal his classiﬁcation, he sent a request within 15 days to the prefect of his district, who arranged a hearing.52 Besides the physical rating, the candidate submitted to extensive psycho*S ⫽ superior members and scapula; I ⫽ inferior members and pelvic girdle; G ⫽ general state; Y ⫽ eyes and vision; C ⫽ color vision; O ⫽ ears and hearing; P ⫽ psychiatry.

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logical examinations. Altogether he took 11 different tests. The ﬁrst 4 were general-level exams to test aptitude, reasoning, mechanical and practical knowledge, logic, math, and vocabulary. The next 5 were used to relate a candidate’s aptitude to speciﬁc military assignments. Finally, 2 exams tested his skill with cryptography. By 1990 the military had devised a new system for testing. ESPACE was a soundproof booth equipped with video, sound, and instruments. Much like a training cabin for pilots, the room required the use of eyes, ears, and hands in a variety of situations. The different scores were related to 10 categories of military professions, predicting probable success in each.53 The next step was the actual call-up and enrollment of youth. The French call the annual pool of eligible youth the “contingent.” This was visualized as a pie. The pie is sliced into three parts of four birth months each: January to 30 April; May to 31 August; September to 31 December. Those not called in the last slice were put into the ﬁrst slice of the next year. By the 1990s the system had evolved into six slices of two months each. Each slice consisted of youth who had not asked for a delay in call-up, youth whose deferments had come to an end, and youth volunteering in advance or after a short delay for call-up.54 The minister of defense determined the size of each call in consultation with the minister of interior. The minister could vary the call by several means. If the number of eligibles was superior to need, he could shift the excess to a later call. If the number was less than the need, he could call up all who had not asked for deferment or delay, with the oldest being called ﬁrst. The actual call-up was made by the Bureau de Recrutement, later the Bureau du Service National. Individual notices were sent to each man with copies to the commune for updating the register of names.55 The system of the 1970s was reformed to offer a variety of delays for studies and training. For example, in 1970 some 177,000 youth were called at the normal age of their class. To this total were added some 90,000 who had canceled their deferments. By 1980 some 60 percent of each contingent was being called at some date later than when members were ﬁrst declared ﬁt for service. With the arrival of national service (nonmilitary) options in the 1980s the call-up became even more complex. The arrival of what one politician called “service a` la carte” meant that the call-up was for a variety of different types of service, although the military still had ﬁrst preference. Service in nonmilitary jobs as “cooperation, aide technique” and others meant a variety of term lengths. In 1993 some 231,046 men were enrolled in the military, 13,244 in the Auxiliary Gendarmes, 3,712 in scientiﬁc jobs (engineers, researchers, teachers), 280 as lawyers, 296 as linguists, and 2,887 in health service. By 1994 some 30 percent of each age class was escaping all call-up.56 The French system was also distinguished from the American and British systems by the role the procurement agency played in assignments. Since

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the French military ran the system, in contrast to the civilians in the other systems, it became possible for procurement ofﬁcials to direct men to particular tasks and units. The selection centers made out a form on each man with a recommendation to one of over 500 possible assignments. This form was forwarded to the regional Bureau de Recrutement, which was thus able to send individuals to military units in the area for assignment and training.57 On paper the military received ﬁrst call on the service of youth, but a variety of exceptions developed. Ofﬁcially, the assignment was to take account of, ﬁrst, the man’s aptitude as determined at the selection center, second, his professional qualiﬁcations, and ﬁnally, his expressed desires. But like all military assignment arrangements, there were problems in practice.58 The ﬁrst problem was the ignorance of both the draftee and his orientation ofﬁcer about potential jobs and assignments. This sometimes led to assignments of several individuals to the same position in the same unit. Another difﬁculty was that many positions had a variety of qualiﬁcations attached to their occupation. Even with the computers adopted in 1978, the difﬁculties of matching the qualiﬁcations and constraints of the draftee to the qualiﬁcations and constraints of the job were enormous.59 A problem common to all systems was that the ﬁghting arm of the military (armor, artillery, and infantry) needed most of the draftees, some 32 percent of each call-up class in France. But only about 8 percent of each class opted for such service. Less common in other systems was the procedure in France by which the minister of defense could arrange special assignments of individuals at the request of other ministries or elected ofﬁcials. In 1970 almost 20,000 draftees had been given the assignment of their choice, generally close to their home, because of the intervention of an elected ofﬁcial. The assignment had been made without the approval of the local military command. Other ministries had conventions with Defense by which, under National Service, they could call for the assignment of a draftee by name. This frequently meant assignment to a civilian-type job. Critics insisted such arrangements were to promote political sympathy in local areas.60 Even with the best will in the world, satisfying the assignment wishes of all draftees was a hopeless task. Yet it was to the advantage of the military to ﬁnd the proper job for a man. Efﬁcient utilization meant capitalizing on skills and maximizing efﬁciency; it also enhanced prospects of draftees electing to become career soldiers. The French military offered the draftee several options. The ﬁrst was the date on which he was called to active service. The second was the place or area where he served. The third was the nature of his job. The French system succeeded well in the ﬁrst option, with 85 percent of draftees reporting satisfaction with the date of enrollment. On the second option, almost half were able to serve in the area of their choice. The military also

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estimated that almost 63 percent went to formations that closely resembled their desires. But less than 30 percent went to speciﬁc jobs that corresponded with their skills.61 It behooved the military to make as efﬁcient use as possible of the shortterm draftee. The difﬁculty sprang from the rather unique mission of the military. True, there were jobs in both civilian and military life that were the same: barbers, cooks, mechanics, electricians. But the vast majority of military tasks had no civilian counterpart. As General Hershey of the American draft system remarked, the military needed killers, a skill not widely practiced in civilian life.62 The assignment problem was simply irresolvable; malassignment was endemic to military life. Particularly troublesome for all systems were highly educated draftees. Noncommissioned ofﬁcers (NCOs) in the United States, Britain, and France constantly complained of the difﬁculty in training such men. A French annual call-up in 1989 had 73,000 draftees with a baccalaure´at or higher degree. But there were only some 7,500 posts that might attract these “superintellectuals,” as they were called. Working at a task that was beneath one’s training and intelligence led to the grouching common to the draftee’s life. Some of these individuals could be channeled off to overseas work in “aide technique” or “service de cooperation” or health services. But such posts held only a few thousand at most. Without a major war and mobilization, assignment problems were unavoidable in France, Britain, and the United States.63 THE UNITED STATES The American system sprang from many sources. Before World War I a group of elite lawyers in the Plattsburg movement saw military training as a means of integrating new immigrants into society, as a technique for teaching citizenship and ﬁtness. Above all, these men had visions of a centrally directed system of manpower management to ensure efﬁciency in any national emergency. The idea of “selective service” was rooted in the thoughts of progressive reformers.64 In contrast, military planners were more concerned about avoiding the problems associated with the Civil War draft, a nationally directed, military-staffed disaster. Military planners were also more sensitive to American dislike of centralization in power and distant bureaucracies.65 The Selective Service System that the military planned was rooted in local draft boards—“little groups of neighbors.” This theory of draft organization followed the ideas of Jefferson rather than those of Hamilton. Clarence Dykstra, the director of the system in 1940, called it “supervised decentralization—the selection of men by their neighbors and fellow citizens.” National headquarters provided guidance and general rules.66 On 6 March 1967 President Lyndon Johnson said: “The draft board concept is built on

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a uniquely American belief—that local citizens can perform a valuable service to the Government and at the same time personalize the Government’s procedures. . . . We cannot lightly discard an institution with so valuable a record of effectiveness and integrity.”67 The draft laws of World War I and World War II creating Selective Service were very similar. They established local boards with the power to classify and call men for military duty. The War Department established the membership of each local board by drawing upon the same kind of elites that appeared in the British system. The law of 1940 read that “the decisions of such local boards shall be ﬁnal except where an appeal is authorized in accordance with such rules and regulations as the President may prescribe.” The local boards were loosely under control of state boards that reported to national headquarters. No ofﬁcer on active duty could serve in the system, thus emphasizing civilian control. The director could be an ofﬁcer but had to be removed from the military chain of command.68 Such decentralization guaranteed problems because the local boards interpreted draft rules differently. Some variation was expected. Appeal boards established for every 600,000 draftees had the goal of promoting greater consistency.69 The 1940 law established draft liability for males aged 21 to 36. But the president could and did vary this age range, so that by the end of the war men registered at 18 and were called up at age 19. The military found little value in men over age 26, so the effective age of draftees ranged from 19 to 26.70 On registration day, 16 October 1940, some 16 million men between the ages of 21 and 36 did their duty at local election headquarters. The president proclaimed that the action demonstrated “the singleness of our will and the unity of the nation.”71 Once the draft rolls were in existence the 6,400 local draft boards established a number sequence to be used in the national lottery to establish a random selection. In 1940 each local board had no more than 8,500 registrants on its rolls. The national lottery, presided over by the president, was designed to create the initial selection sequence to be adopted at each local board. The drawing created a sequence of 9,000 numbers, mixed in a giant bowl and drawn by Secretary of War Henry Stimson. The lottery technique was used only for the ﬁrst few draft calls. Thereafter, men registered upon reaching age 18 and were called up based on need and in a sequence of oldest ﬁrst. 72 Once a sequence was established, each local board began calling in the men for examination and selection. How many were called depended upon quotas established nationally. The War Department issued a number for men needed to the director of Selective Service for each month, generally at least six weeks in advance of induction date. After getting the requirement, the director used a formula that indicated the available supply of each state after deducting for deferments and volunteers serving on active duty or in reserve or National Guard units. This new total was then mul-

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tiplied by a fraction, the numerator of which was the number of registrants in any one local board area and the denominator of which was the number of registrants in the state. The new ﬁgure represented the draft pool available in each state and was sent to each army corps area in the nation for requisition purposes. At the same time the state director, using another formula, determined the quota for each local board.73 After assigning a local draft call number based on the master roster, the local board mailed out a questionnaire to each registrant to establish marital status, dependency, occupation, education, and physical condition. After receiving the information, the board called the man in for examination and classiﬁcation. In theory the classiﬁcation process seemed unambiguous. The order of call and the classiﬁcation system originated with national headquarters. Although modiﬁed slightly during the war, the basic classiﬁcations for draftees were as follows: Class I-A referred to men immediately available for service; Class II deferred men (for example, II-B meant deferred for an essential job); Class III men were deferred because of dependency or hardship; Class IV men were unqualiﬁed for service because of age, health, or some other factor. The local board, which consisted of 17 volunteers and several part-time clerks, met sometimes daily and at a minimum once a week during the war. In 1943 there were some 4,190,536 classiﬁcations, but many were routine. When a man sought a deferment, the routine ended.74 If a man wanted a dependency deferment the board investigated by using local welfare ofﬁcers. If a man desired a job deferment, the board interviewed the boss, who frequently initiated the request. The board also took evidence from the police, the schools, and other local institutions. The candidate himself could and did appear for questioning but was not sworn in.75 Deferring one man meant that another had to step forward to ﬁght—and perhaps die. Local board members took this responsibility seriously.76 The local boards conducted their own examination of draftees. If a man passed this initial screening he was dispatched to the army induction center where military physicians took another look. Problems arose immediately. The local physicians were not as demanding as the army was. The second screening weeded out 15 percent of men already passed as ﬁt by local boards. The return of these men created havoc with attempts by local boards to meet their quotas. Even more surprising was that local board exams had already rejected 40 percent of the men called in for physical reasons. This amounted to a 55 percent rejection rate by mid-1941.77 Another problem was the result of the dynamic character of the drafteligible population. Because the American system, unlike the British, rested upon only individual classiﬁcations rather than entire age groups, local boards found themselves constantly updating individual cases. For example, one man might be changed from 2-A to 1-A because he was no longer the only supporter of the family. Another might be given a temporary de-

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ferment to ﬁnish college. And of course, a man might marry and conceive a child, which required a deferment rating. Such alterations continued throughout the life of the American draft. But it was a price paid for the notion that in America there should be no class distinction and no bloc deferments.78 Violating the draft in the United States also involved consequences stiffer than in Britain. The draft law of 1940 provided a penalty of a $10,000 ﬁne or imprisonment for ﬁve years or both for anyone dodging the draft. A violation included refusing to register or serve in the armed forces or anyone who “knowingly counsels, aids or abets another to evade registration or service.”79 Peer pressure was the key to compliance. The value of local control of the draft manifested itself in this area. While not really “little groups of neighbors,” local board members did have contacts in their community who knew who was eligible. This could sometimes degenerate into vigilantism, as in World War I when citizens began making arrests of alleged draft dodgers. During World War II some citizens did volunteer to round up shirkers, and a New York draft ofﬁcial encouraged veterans organizations to check for draft cards. But generally this type of activity was kept under control.80 Ofﬁcial pressure to comply did exist. The Justice Department conducted thousands of investigations of alleged violators. But some 10,000 investigations had produced only 116 convictions by June 1941. Convictions were rare because, as with the British and French experience, most of the violations were simply from ignorance or from missing the mail. Selective Service had more interest in putting men in uniform than in jail. In cases of forgetfulness or ignorance, the man was offered a new chance to register or even volunteer for service. President Roosevelt issued an order in January 1941 that allowed parole into the service of anyone convicted of violating the draft law.81 Compliance remained high because the draft system began slowly. As late as February 1941, only some 100,000 of a required 240,000 men had been inducted. A high rejection rate was the luxury of a peacetime army seeking the cream of the crop. Also, the small professional cadre needed time to build up the training facilities and personnel to handle the draftees. The president also continued to allow men to volunteer for the service of their choice even as the draft operated. The military approved this attempt to take advantage of patriotic fever, despite the problems it caused for manpower management. Only in December 1942 did volunteering end.82 By spring 1941 the draft mechanism was fully operational and limited only by the calls placed by the armed forces. In April the director wrote local boards that quotas were to be cut because of an increase in volunteers. On 1 July 1941 the second registration took place for men who had reached 18 since the ﬁrst registration. Some 700,000 new men registered, and Roosevelt authorized a call-up of 900,000 men for the following ﬁscal

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year. The new registration class had to be integrated with the huge number of registrants already on the books who had not yet been called up. After this second lottery men simply registered as they reached age 18.83 By midsummer the system had selected and classiﬁed some 4,000,000 men, yet a meager 402,000 had been inducted. The army had a projected size of 1,400,000 with 630,000 draftees but was short on both accounts.84 Congress approved the way local civilians were running the draft. Sometimes this meant that local boards ignored national recommendations on deferments and eligibility, particularly in the case of fathers and married men. Boards were unwilling to extend a deferment to a young single male, even in a key job, if it meant calling up an older man with dependents. In theory, the director could relieve local board members for failing to follow instructions. But during the entire war only 124 members were so relieved, and few of these cases involved refusal to follow orders.85 Throughout the history of the system local boards continued to interpret national guidelines in their own way. In a sense, their actions were a reﬂection of public opinion. When in February 1942 the director ruled that movie actors and journalists were essential workers, the public complained and local boards ignored the ruling. The national ofﬁce backed down, as it did in the case of professional athletes.86 In one unfortunate case the system reﬂected the worst of American opinion and society. This involved the treatment of African Americans.87 Jim Crow ruled in America in 1940, but the draft law speciﬁcally prohibited discrimination on the basis of race. No matter. The military was segregated, so there were race-speciﬁc draft calls.88 Roosevelt tried to anticipate this problem by appointing selected African American leaders to advise both the Selective Service and the War Department, but this was mere window dressing.89 The Selective Service System did operate more liberally on race issues than did other institutions. The director encouraged the appointment of African Americans to draft boards, and thousands functioned in a variety of jobs but few on local boards and not in the South. A survey found 250 African Americans on local boards, 624 as advisers, 30 as appeal agents, and 486 as physicians and dentists.90 The draft system had to make racial calls, because the military would brook no other. In 1940 there were six African American units in the army. African American draftees could only go to these units or new African American units just on the drawing board. Attempts to send African American draftees to the army before segregated units, buildings, and mess facilities existed were rejected. In contrast to the British, American selective service never exercised total control over manpower. Rather than a manifestation of central management, the American draft represented the success of local and special political interests in the midst of war. In the beginning the planners had

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different hopes. Grenville Clark and Henry Stimson both saw the draft as an instrument for national control of manpower. Even FDR, despite his reluctance to end volunteering, had such hopes.91 General Lewis Hershey also felt “the primary task of this system [SSS] is to determine the place in which a given individual can best serve his nation.”92 Congress thought otherwise. At no time was there support in Congress for allowing the conscription system to determine where civilians were to work. And the military recruited volunteers as fast as it could, regardless of civilian job.93 The draft law itself contained barriers against centralization of control. Local board deferments showed the Janus desire of the public, which demanded everyone do his duty but preferred single workers do it before fathers.94 When Congress, after Pearl Harbor, approved a lengthening of tour for conscripts and lowered the induction age to 20, some thought the next step would be to put civilian workers under tight control. They were wrong. Despite the clear need, Congress rejected the idea.95 On 18 April 1942 Roosevelt created a War Manpower Commission (WMC) to oversee direction of all manpower. Selective Service was supposed to report to the WMC. But it failed to work. Although Paul McNutt, the director of the WMC, created his own problems with inept handling of Congress, the difﬁculty was beyond personality. The army, Congress, business, and organized labor all resented any attempt to direct the military draft or draft civilians for jobs. In 12 months the draft system was independent again by order of Congress.96 During World War II, rules changed frequently, including draft age, registration liability, and deferment standards. But the system always reﬂected more local than national priorities. Induction pace and criteria for deferments came from local boards.97 Hershey’s directives to local boards were called “advices.” He had to give advice to some 184,000 volunteers on the local boards. These men had been picked precisely because of their “standing in the community.” They were independent Americans, not likely to be pushed around.98 These board members operated under considerable pressure, sometimes even physical threats, but they enjoyed the work and were satisﬁed with their performance. In a postwar survey, some 58 percent were “extremely satisﬁed,” and another 37 percent “quite satisﬁed.” They were almost unanimous in approving the laissez-faire policy of national headquarters.99 The various appeal and advisory boards in the system were supposed to ensure more national symmetry in decisions. But such boards seldom reversed a local board decision. The 243 appeal boards handled over 4 million appeals during the war. In almost 70 percent of the cases the local board’s decision was upheld.100 When on 31 March 1947 the draft system ended, it had registered 49 million men, selected 19 million, and inducted 10 million into the armed forces.101 The draft system, which operated during World War II, the Cold War,

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the Korean Conﬂict, and the Vietnam War, was basically the same. For Korea there were some changes in liability. Men aged 18 to 26 had to register, and the tour was for 21 months, then two years. A man could not be inducted until age 19, but an 18-year-old could enlist. A draftee now had a six-year reserve obligation in addition to his active time. College students gained a deferment until the end of the academic year during the Korean War and after 1953 until they ﬁnished their degree. The law, said the president, made the rules, but the decision of local boards was ﬁnal.102 Besides continuity in regulations, the system displayed continuity in personnel. General Hershey remained as director until 1970. At the local board level the same types, and frequently the same men, served. Classiﬁcation continued as usual. Once a month the board prepared a list of eligible registrants with the oldest ﬁrst. As the quotas arrived the board went down the list to select men. If a man had a deferred classiﬁcation, he was passed over. The notice went out to the men selected, who had 10 days to report for a physical by an armed forces examining station. If he passed the physical, he was ordered to report for induction. If he refused to report for exam, the board called on the local U.S. attorney to prosecute.103 What had changed was the mission. Since World War II the draft had not been asked to engage in massive mobilization of men for the armed forces. Like Britain and France, America now had more men reaching draft age than it needed. So the system became a manager of deferments. In the 1950s, deferments expanded to include all students studying in college. The draft grew rusty from lack of use. Inductions continued, but the numbers were reduced. Then came Vietnam.104 NOTES 1. F. W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organisation in Two World Wars (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), p. 25. 2. George H. Gallup, ed., Gallup International Public Opinion Polls: Great Britain, 1937–1975, 2 vols. (New York: Random House, 1976), p. 10; Unsigned memo, “Questions that may be raised,” 1 December 1938, Lab6/99, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO). 3. Unsigned memo, 1 December 1938, PRO/Lab6/99. For this system of deferment, see Chapter 7. 4. Quote in Peter Dennis, Decision by Default: Peacetime Conscription and British Defence 1919–39 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1972), p. 163. 5. 2 & 3 Geo., RA Fact39, 26 May 1939, pp. 176–179. 6. James Rae to Sir T. W. Phillips, 26 August 1937, PRO/Lab6/97. 7. Minister to all, 25 January 1939, PRO/Lab6/238; H. H. Wiles to Nicholson, 19 April 1939, ibid. 8. Memo on annual call-up procedure, 1/m.1579/2/1960, 1960, PRO/Lab6/ 682. 9. 2 & 3 Geo. 6, 3 September 1939, pp. 1141, 1158–1160.

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10. MLNS circular, 120/44, 1 September 1940, PRO/Lab6/130; War Cabinet Manpower Priority Committee memo, 31 December 1940, ibid./9982; Memo on annual call-up procedure, 1/m.1579/2/1960, 1960, ibid./682; Ernest Bevin Papers, Churchill College, Cambridge, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as EBP), II, 3/8, 1 March 1944. 11. Conﬁdential report of Ministry of Labour opinion on U.S. manpower policy, 26 January 1943, Harry Hopkins Papers, Bx324, bk7, f-3, Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, N.Y. (hereafter cited as FDRL). 12. M. Doddan to M. Evans, 15 October 1940, PRO/Lab6/265; 2 & 3 Geo.6, 3 September 1939, p. 1142; H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), p. 152; Bevin, mss, II, 3/8, 1 March 1944, p. 4, EBP; See 11 & 12 Geo., 3 September 1939, 6. ch. 64, in PRO/ WO32/13249, pp. 5–6. 13. Parker, Manpower, p. 313; Outline of History of Nat. Service, p. 13, unsign. memo. 1/M1579//1960, PRO/Lab6/682. See Chapter 7 for the special registers. 14. Angus Calder, The People’s War: Britain, 1939–1945 (New York: Random House, 1969), p. 51; Parker, Manpower, p. 151; M. 5932, Progress report for War Cabinet, 1 July 1940, PRO/Lab6/126; Note of meeting G. Myrddin Evans, chair, MLNS, 11 October 1940, PRO/Lab6/265. 15. Parker, Manpower, p. 152; Notes on interview with Register General, 1 November 1939, PRO/Lab6/130; meeting between MLNS and Min. of National Insurance, 5 March 1952, ibid./655. 16. Parker, Manpower, p. 151; Bevin, mss, II3/8, pp. 6, 85, EBP. 17. See 11 & 12 Geo. 6, ch. 64, PRO/WO32/13249; Parker, Manpower, p. 302. 18. Parker, Manpower, p. 152. 19. For physicals, see Chapter 8. 20. Parker, Manpower, p. 152; Outline of History of Nat. Service, p. 3, unsign. memo. 1/M1579//1960, PRO/Lab6/682. At another level were District Manpower Boards, which had the responsibility of overseeing the use of civilian labor. See Parker, Manpower, p. 308. 21. Parker, Manpower, p. 153; memo on annual call-up procedure, 1/m.1579/ 2/1960, PRO/Lab6/682. 22. Parker, Manpower, p. 153. 23. Calder, People’s, p. 249; Perry, Commonwealth, p. 66; Parker, Manpower, pp. 153–154; Notes in Nicholson’s ofﬁce on distr. of tradesmen, 14 March 1940, PRO/Lab6/150. 24. Progress report for War Cabinet, 1 October 1940, PRO/Lab6/126; Note of meeting G. Myrddin Evans, chair, 11 October 1940, ibid./265; G. M. Evans to Sir James Price, 15 October 1940, ibid.; Parker, Manpower, p. 162. 25. Parker, Manpower, pp. 162–163; unsigned memo on calling men under 20, January 1940, PRO/Lab6/265; Bevin to Churchill, 14 August 1940, ibid.; War Cabinet Manpower Priority committee meeting, 31 December 1940, PRO/Lab6/ 9982. For women and conscription, see Chapter 10. 26. Bevin, mss, II, 3/8, p. 13, EBP; Parker, Manpower, p. 303. 27. Bevin, mss, II, 3/8, p. 14, EBP; Parker, Manpower, pp. 302–304. 28. Parker, Manpower, p. 303.

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29. Ibid., pp. 304–305. 30. Ibid., pp. 302, 305. 31. War Cabinet Manpower Priorities Com., 31 December 1940, PRO/Lab6/ 9982; Parker, Manpower, pp. 162–163, 299. 32. Parker, Manpower, pp. 306, 308–310. 33. See Chapter 7. 34. Parker, Manpower, pp. 312–313. 35. Ibid., pp. 309–310. 36. 2 & 3 Geo. 6, 3 September 1939, pp. 1162–1163; Reg. Ofﬁce, Manchester to HQ, London, 23 January 1942, PRO/Lab6/662; Ince to Deputy Sec., 28 October 1939, ibid./145; Ofﬁcial release by MLNS, 22 May 1958, ibid./685; ﬁle, registration day, 21 October 1939, ibid./662. 37. See Michel Bozon’s Les Conscrits: Arts et traditions populaires (Paris: Berger-Levrault, 1981) for these fetes. 38. Andre´ Loyer, “Les Me´canismes d’application de la conscription en France en 1976,” De´fense nationale 32 (October 1976): 35; Georges Marey, “Le Service national et le code du service national-II,” Revue militaire generale 28 (1972): 34–35. 39. Michel Darfren, “Le Citoyen et le service national,” De´fense nationale (January 1983): 170–171; Optimiser, 1990, p. 19; Georges Favreau, “Les bureau d’archives,” Arme´es d’aujourd’hui, 1 September 1982, p. 16; Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es, Paris (hereafter cited as SIRPA), Service National, doss. 1, 5 October 1990, p. 35. 40. Darfren, “Citoyen,” pp. 169–170; Michel L. Martin, Warriors to Managers: The French Military Establishment since 1945 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981), p. 119n; G. Pineau, “Ces trois jours qui durent huit heures,” Terre Magazine 13 (1990): 24; Marey, “Service national-II,” p. 31; L. H. Landon, “Military Service, Reserve Forces and Their Training in the French Army,” Army Quarterly 95 (October 1967): 99. 41. Ministe`re des Arme´es, Bulletin Ofﬁciel des Arme´e de Terre, E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre, Le Service national (Paris: Re´publique Franc¸aise, 1966), pp. 23– 24, 38–39, 43, 45 (hereafter cited as BO,SN; Sec. Gen. de Sec. d’E´tat a` A.F “War,” 28 February 1948, CV, SCdR, 24t1 E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre (EMAT), Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV). 42. BO,SN, ed. method, 26 May 1966, pp. 23, 29, 34–35; Min. de AF a` Prefets, 24 November 1947, MACV, SCdR, 24t1EMAT; SIRPA/Act. no. 18, 7 May 1993, p. 21; Dir. Cent. du Rec. note pour Dir. Region dur Rec. et commander de bur. de rec., 18 February 1948, MACV, SCdR, 24t10EMAT. 43. Loyer, “Les Me´canismes,” p. 46; Sheet of Info. rel. to operations of enrollment of 2nd cont. of class 1946, 21 November 1946, ibid., 24t1EMAT; Min. of War to CGs of Regions, 10 February 1947, ibid. 44. Sec. Gen. of Mr. Sec. d’E´tat to A.F “War” (Cabinet), 28 February 1948, CV, SCdR,24t1EMAT; Note for Cabinet of Sec. of Staff of Afs from Dir. of Recrutement, 4 March 1948, ibid.; Sec. d’E´tat of Mil. Guerre to Prefets, 24 May 1948, ibid.; Rapport of comite´ 4 2nd example, 45th session of L’IHEDN on future of conscription, IHEDN/Dir. des E´tudes, March 1993. 45. Table from Bernard Tricot, “Dossier pour la reforme de recrutement,” De´fense national 21 (1965): 981–982; Regard, SIRPA, January 1994, p. 4; SIRPA/Act. no. 18, 7 May 1993.

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46. Debate on revising code of SN, 6 April 1971, Assemble´e Nationale, Journal ofﬁciel de la republique franc¸ais (hereafter cited as JO), 6 April 1971, p. 906. 47. Law relative to registration and review of class 1921, memo 24 December 1920, MACV, 9N169, doss9; Landon, “Military Service,” p. 98; Information sheet, 21 November 1946, MACV, SCdR, 241EMAT; Minister de Guerre a` Mss. Les Prefets, 3 June 1947; Chief of Staff AF “guerre” to Les Prefets, 5 June 1948, MACV, SCdR, 241EMAT; BO,SN, 1 June 1968, pp. 97–101; Claude Vimont & Jacques Baudot, “E´tudes des caracteristiques sanitaires et sociales des jeunes du contingent,” Population 18 (1963): 500. 48. BO,SN, ed. method, pp. 60–61, 101; Vimont & Baudot, “Etudes,” p. 500. 49. Sheet of Info. rel. to operations of enrollment of 2nd cont. of class 1946, 21 November 1946, MACV, SCdR, 24t1EMAT; BO,SN, ed. method, pp. 59, 69, 92; Marey, “Service national-II,” p. 32. 50. Emmanuel Gepeyre, “L’E´volution de la direction du service national,” De´fense nationale 36 (February 1980): 155; Pineau, “Ces trois,” p. 24. 51. BO,SN, ed. method, pp. 11, 70, 73–74, 83. 52. Vimont & Baudot, “E´tudes,” p. 500; Marey, “Service national-II,” pp. 32– 33; BO,SN, ed. method, pp. 12, 60, 69, 70–71, 78. 53. Marey, “Service national-II,” p. 32; Pineau, “Ces trois,” p. 24. 54. BO,SN, ed. method, p. 64; Regard, SIRPA, 1994, p. 13; Rapport de comite´ 4 (2nd example, 45th session of L’IHEDN on future of conscription), Institute Haut E´tude De´fense National (hereafter cited as IHEDN), /MH1/1–6-1994, p. 5. 55. BOC /PP/1–4, 25 January 1993, p. 47; JO, Code 1989, pp. 8–9; SIRPA, doss. 1, 14 May 1994, p. 57; Gepeyre, “L’E´volution,” p. 155. 56. Bernard Cruzet, “Fonction militaire et service nationale,” Bulletin d’information de l’Association des Anciens E´le`ves de l’E´cole Militaire de l’air 92 (1st trim. 1995): 46; BOC/PP/1–4, 25 January 1993, p. 47 De´fense et Jeunes, 1 January 1990, p. 6; JO, 6 April 1971, p. 906; Rapport de comite´ 4 (2nd example, 45th session of L’IHEDN on future of conscription), IHEDN /MH1/1–6-1994, p. 5. 57. Marey, “Service national-II,” p. 31; Sheet of Instructions; Min. of Arm: Relative to operations of enrollment, 21 November 1946, MACV, SCdR, 24t1EMAT; Min. of War to CGs of Regions, 10 February 1947, ibid. 58. BO,SN, ed. method, p. 133. 59. Gepeyre, “L’E´volution,” p. 157; EMAT, Rapport du Groupe de Travail “Recrutement,” annex 13, 1 July 1972, MACV, SCdr, 24t3EMAT; SIRPA, SN, doss. 1, 5 October 1990, p. 38. 60. Franc¸ois Cailleteau, “La Conscription: Les E´le´ments du proble`me,” De´fense nationale (January 1990): 16; Cruzet, “Fonction,” p. 47; BO,SN, ed. method, p. 134. 61. Optimiser, January 1980, p. 20; Gepeyre, “L’E´volution,” pp. 156–157. 62. Gepeyre, “L’E´volution,” pp. 156–157; Cailleteau, “La Conscription,” p. 17; SIRPA, SN, doss. 1, 5 October 1990, p. 36; George Q. Flynn, Lewis B. Hershey, Mr. Selective Service (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985), p. 178. 63. Optimiser, 1 January 1990, p. 20; JO, 6 April 1971, p. 906. 64. John W. Chambers II, To Raise an Army: The Draft Comes to Modern America (New York: Free Press, 1987), is the standard. 65. See Garry Wills, A Necessary Evil: A History of American Distrust of Gov-

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ernment (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1999), for a recent exposition of this theme. 66. New York Times, 10 November 1940, VII, 9. 67. Johnson quote in Selective Service Newsletter (hereafter cited as SS), April 1967, p. 6; Robert Cuff, “American Mobilization for War, 1917–1945: Political Culture vs Bureaucratic Administration,” pp. 73–74, 85, and Arthur Marwick, “Problems and Consequences of Organizing Society for Total war,” both in N. F. Dreisziger, ed., Mobilization for Total War: The Canadian, American and British Experience, 1914–1918, 1939–1945 (Waterloo, Ontario: W. Laurier University Press, 1981), Gary L. Wamsley, Selective Service and a Changing America: A Study of Organizational-Environmental Relationships (Columbus, Ohio: Merrill, 1969), pp. 212–213. 68. U.S., Statutes at Large, vol. 54 (13, 16 September 1940), p. 893. 69. Donald D. Stewart, “Selective Service Appeal Boards,” Southwestern Social Science Quarterly 31 (June 1950): 30–31, 33; New York Times: 10 November 1940, IV, 10; 18 December 1940, p. 51; 22 March 1941, p. 7; 5 May 1941, p. 10; 16 June 1941, p. 8. 70. U.S., Statutes at Large, vol. 54 (13, 16 September 1940), p. 888. See Chapter 7 for deferments. 71. New York Times: 18 October 1940, p. 8; quote in 17 October 1940, p. 1; FDR memo for Dir. of Budget, 3 September 1940, Box 5, OF1413, Franklin D. Roosevelt Papers, Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, N.Y. (hereafter cited as FDR); J. Garry Clifford & Samuel R. Spenser, Jr., The First Peacetime Draft (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1986), p. 223. 72. New York Times: 23 October 1940, p. 12; 27 October 1940, p. 2. 73. New York Times, 3 November 1940, p. 1; Science Research Association, Inc., Unﬁt for Service: A Review of the Draft and Basic Education in the Army (Chicago: SRA, Inc., 1966), p. 17; Chief of Staff memo for Gen. Watson, 4 October 1940, Box 1, OF1413, FDR. 74. Donald D. Stewart, “Local Boards: A Study of the Place of Volunteer Participation in a Bureaucratic Organization” (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1950), p. 100. 75. New York Times, 30 October 1942, p. 15; Stewart, “Local Boards,” pp. 127, 132, 141, 152. 76. Minute book for LB 104, 21 July 1943 and 1 March 1944, ﬁle E61, Box 3, RG 147, National Archives, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as NA); Stewart, “Local Boards,” pp. 5, 100; Survey of Local Boards, 1947, Box 62, RG 147, NA. 77. Hershey memo to state directors, 6 October 1941, Box 31, RG 147–97, NA; New York Times, 13 November 1940, p. 15; Eanes ﬁle, 20 May 1941, VF 434E125, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle, Pa. (hereafter cited as LBH); George Q. Flynn, “American Medicine and Selective Service in World War II,” Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 42 (July 1987): pp. 311–312, 314; New York Times: 27 November 1940, p. 1; 1 December 1940, p. 48; 6 April 1941, p. 43; 15 April 1941, p. 7; 1 May 1941, p. 22; 18 June 1941, p. 20; 19 October 1941, IV, 8; Lee Kennett, G.I.: The American Soldier in World War II (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1987), p. 27; Memo, May 1941, Box 50, RG 147–97, NA; “Medical Division history, 1941,” p. 7, Box 50, ibid. 78. New York Times: 1 November 1940, pp. 11–13; 7 November 1940, p. 52;

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16 April 1941, p. 20; Hershey memo to Major Gen. Watson, 2 October 1940, Box 1, OF1413, FDR; Minute book for LB 104, Franklin County, Mass., 14 August 1941; File E61, Box 3, RG 147, NA. 79. U.S., Statutes at Large, vol. 54 (13, 16 September 1940), pp. 894–895. 80. New York Times: 20 October 1940, p. 20; 1 November 1940, p. 10; 12 July 1941, p. 11. 81. New York Times: 9 April 1941, p. 29; 26 June 1941, p. 24; 24 January 1941, p. 10; Digest of Signiﬁcant Memos, Selective Service System, 1941, ﬁle E37A, vol. 1, RG 147, NA. 82. New York Times: 29 November 1940, p. 13; 1 December 1940, p. 48; 18 January 1941, p. 8; 2 February 1941, IV, 10; 7 March 1941, p. 1; Knox to President, 18 June 1941, Box 1, OF 1413, FDR. 83. New York Times: 24 March 1941, p. 20; 19 April 1941, p. 7; 20 April 1941, p. 35; 27 May 1941, p. 1; 30 June 1941, p. 1; 1 July 1941, p. 14; 17 July 1941, p. 10. 84. New York Times: 20 April, 1941, IV, 6; 9 May 1941, p. 17; Marvin A. Kreidberg & M. G. Henry, History of Military Mobilization in the United States Army, 1775–1945 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1955), p. 589; Robert K. Grifﬁth, Jr., Men Wanted for the U.S. Army: America’s Experience with an All-Volunteer Army between the World Wars (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1982), pp. 192, 194. Not until October 1941 did the army have one new division ready for combat. See also Eliot A. Cohen, Citizens & Soldiers: The Dilemmas of Military Service (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1985), p. 79. 85. Stewart, “Local Boards,” pp. 20, 46–47; New York Times, 19 December 1941, p. 21. 86. New York Times: 9 February 1942, p. 1; 15 February 1942, VIII, 5; 4 March 1942, p. 1; 28 September 1943, p. 30; 3 February 1943, p. 24. 87. See George Q. Flynn, “Selective Service and American Blacks during World War II,” Journal of Negro History 69 (Winter 1984): 14–25. 88. Selective Service System, Special Groups, Special Monograph No. 10, 2 vols. (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), I: 10. 89. Phillip McGuire, “Judge William H. Hastie and Army Recruitment, 1940– 42,” Military Affairs 42 (April 1978): 75–76; Special Groups, I: 31. 90. Unsigned memo on participation of Negroes in Selective Service, 8 January 1941, ﬁle 070, Box 31, RG 147–97, NA; Special Groups, I: 33; Johnson news release, 7 February 1941, ﬁle 171.1, Box 48, RG 147–97, NA; Johnson to Rep. Vito Marcantonio, 6 September 1941, Box 31, ibid.; Johnson to A. W. Dent, 22 October 1941, ibid.; Johnson news release, 10 November 1941, ﬁle 171.1, Box 48, RG 147–97, NA. 91. FDR to L.B. School, 26 August 1940, Box 103, War Dept., PSF, FDR. 92. New York Times: 6 January 1942, p. 10; 10 January 1942, p. 8; Quote in New York Times, 12 September 1942, p. 1. 93. Kreidberg & Henry, A History, p. 696. 94. New York Times, 24 February 1942, p. 20; Robert R. Palmer, B. I. Wiley, & W. R. Keast, The Procurement and Training of Ground Combat Troops (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1948), p. 10. 95. New York Times: 14 December 1941, p. 57; 20 January 1942, p. 21; 22 February 1942, p. 20; 26 February 1942, p. 11; Patterson to Stimson, 28 March

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1942, item 2715, reel 116, GCM; Stimson to Clark, 7 April 1942, ibid.; New York Times, 20 March 1943, p. 1. 96. See George Q. Flynn, The Mess in Washington: Manpower Mobilization in World War II (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1979), chap. 10. 97. Phillip Selznick quoted in Gary L. Wamsley, “Decision Making in Local Boards: A Case Study,” in Roger W. Little, ed., Selected Service and American Society (New York: Sage, 1969), p. 105fn. 98. Hershey to BG L.V. Regan, 1 August 1940, and Hershey to John Sawczyn, 4 August 1940, Box 26, RG 147, NA; Holmes B. Springs, Selective Service in South Carolina (Columbia, S.C.: Selective Service Headquarters 1948), p. 1; Wamsley, Selective Service, p. 128; Science Research, Unﬁt, p. 10. For another view, see Stewart, “Local Boards,” pp. 64, 200. 99. Survey of Local Boards, 1947, chap. II, Box 62, RG 147. See also VF 131.1s1, rl54, LBH. 100. Harry A. Marmion, Selective Service: Conﬂict and Compromise (New York: Wiley, 1968), p. 13; Stewart, “Selective Service,” pp. 33, 35; Survey of Local Boards, 1947, chap. 3, Box 62, RG 147–97; Stewart, “Local Boards,” pp. 54, 57. 101. New York Times: 1 May 42, p. 11; 10 May 1942, IV, 7. Kennett, G.I, p. 31. 102. Harry A. Marmion, “Historical Background of Selective Service in the United States,” in Little, ed., Selective Service, p. 42; Selective Service System, Selective Service under the 1948 Act Extended (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), p. 26. 103. “Research and Statistics Memo,” 12 September 1951, VF 200S5, LBH. 104. See Chapter 11.

Chapter 7

Deferring the Elite By the 20th century all Western democracies recognized the importance of an educated population. The war of 1914 also brought home the value of special skills in the sciences and engineering in warfare. Both the French and British suffered major dislocations in their productive capacity because of the indiscriminate enlistment or call-up of young men with specialized knowledge.1 This problem revealed a fundamental tension in the operation of conscription. There was a political need to couch conscription laws in the most egalitarian terms possible but a practical need to protect special personnel. The American laws of 1940–1973 read: “The Congress further declares that in a free society the obligations and privileges of military training and service should be shared generally.” The British laws of 1939– 1960 read: “[E]very male person who is a British subject . . . shall . . . become liable under this Act to be called up for service in the armed forces of the Crown.” The French laws began: “Le service national est universel.”2 Given such democratic rhetoric, the question arose of how to reconcile such sentiments with the obvious needs of the war economy for specialized talent. In some new ﬁelds, such as physics, young men within the eligible draft age were doing the best work. To make the problem more complex, a rivalry existed between the civilian economy and the military for specialized skills. The armed forces required an increasing number of talented youth to prepare and use the new military weapons. By World War II the American idea of a “selective” draft as a means of managing specialized manpower had won attention in both France and England. On a cultural level the concept of public recognition of a deferred elite, whether in education or another ﬁeld, seemed more acceptable in France and England than in the United States. This was partially a function

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Table 7.1 British Males Attending University, 1922–19613

of the elitist view of higher education held in Europe compared to the United States. By the 20th century the English had established a nationally directed education system that forthrightly recognized the need for nurturing an elite through public schools and the “Oxbridge” capstone. This elite orientation revealed itself in the percentage of males enrolled in higher education (see Table 7.1). In France the revolutionary commitment to e´galite´ had led the centralized education bureaucracy to use schools to turn peasants into Frenchmen. But the state was also committed to raising up an elite corps of experts. By the 20th century the French system weeded out all but the brightest from the high echelons of the grande e´coles. Few students could stand up to the rigors of the famous baccs, required for entrance into any public university in France. In neither Britain nor France was there any serious commitment to universal college education4 (see Table 7.2). In the United States the commitment to universal education had grown in the 20th century to include university enrollment. Throughout the modern period American males aged 18 to 24 were much more likely to be enrolled in higher education than their peers in Europe (see Tables 7.3 and 7.4). Given this disparity, deferring male students had different social consequences in the three countries. Although in all three countries the educational establishments were vigorous in seeking protection for their clients from conscription, only in the United States was this discrimination a source of unending political criticism, contributing eventually to the downfall of the very idea of conscription.5

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Table 7.2 Percentage of Baccalaure´at by Generation in France, Males, 1900–19686

Table 7.3 U.S. University Enrollment, 1922–19707

FRANCE The French approach for protecting an elite was conditioned by the type of educational system in place and by the special relationship of the military to the teaching establishment. The educational system in the early 20th Century exhibited a class bias. Rigorous entrance exams for the state lyce´es and municipal colleges, similar to American high schools, ensured that less

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Table 7.4 U.S. Median Years of School Completed, Males, 1940–19708

than 3 percent of the pupils came from the working class as late as 1939. Most rural students ended their education after six years in the state e´coles primaires. About half of all students passed who took the exam for the certiﬁcat d’e´tudes primaires at age 12. Only 7 percent of all students went on to secondary education, and only about half of these took and passed the very difﬁcult baccalaure´at (bacc) in the years before 1940.9 During a conscription call, very few men with special education saw service. The educational proﬁle for registration of classes in 1921 is shown in Table 7.5. This normal, or bell, curve of distribution showed most conscripts coming from the students with some primary education. Another special aspect of the French culture that affected deferments was the hostility between the military and the educational establishment. Since the 19th century the teachers of France had identiﬁed with left-wing politics, characterized by a deep distrust of Bonapartism and military coups. The ofﬁcer class, in contrast, considered the schools a seed ground for individualism and other antipatriotic virtues. General Maurice Weygand in the 1930s accused the teaching profession of destroying all national enthusiasm. “What kind of soldiers can emerge from such schools?” he asked.10 Given this distrust of teachers, the military began to accept that it must play a role in education. Marshal Louis Hubert Lyautely, war minister in 1917 and later commander of Morocco, had written of the enormous inﬂuence ofﬁcers could have on conscripts. During training the citizen-soldier could be taught patriotism, discipline, and respect for social order. The implications of such an approach were important for how the military viewed deferment of special personnel.11 The conscription law of 1928 speciﬁed that deferments were to be offered for the purpose of pursuing superior studies. In fact, this law of 1928 was still guiding the Ministry of Defense on deferments in 1968. When originally drawn up, the law involved an 18-month tour of duty, and there were very few students working for higher degrees. When the normal tour of duty was cut to 12 months in the early 1930s, there was a further reduction in deferments. The Ministry of Defense was in charge of granting and managing such deferments. If a student was forced to do a tour of serving, the

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Table 7.5 French Male Registration by Education, 192112

military sought to assign him near a proper school during the last semester of duty so he could pursue scholarship on two half-days each week. Special provisions were made to defer students in medicine, dentistry, and pharmacy.13 When Germany prohibited conscription during the occupation of 1940– 1944, the Vichy government was reduced to creating various organizations for male youth.14 Georges Lamiraud, a follower of the Marshal Lyautey ideas, played a major role. The most important such activity was the Chantiers de la Jeuˆnesse, which required eight months of compulsory service for draft-age males. The youth did manual work while being given large doses of civic and moral lessons.15 Following the war, France sought to reestablish the status quo ante bellum for the draft and deferments. Under the Fourth Republic the educational system underwent few reforms, and the military returned to a draft that had not seen major revision since 1928. Military authorities continued to offer generous delays in call-up to students, with no limitation on subjects. Deferments were to be offered not merely to students of the grandes e´coles, faculties, lyce´es colleges, and e´coles normales d’ instituer but also to students in professional and technical training.16 A student seeking such a delay had to apply to the regional director of recruitment or to the commander of the bureau of recruitment in his area. He had to submit evidence of his good standing in school. Above all, he had to submit the request before he received his call-up notice. After such a notice, the request was automatically rejected. Normally the delay covered the time needed to complete his course of study.17 The advent of the Korean conﬂict and ﬁghting in the colonies forced France in 1951 to extend the normal draft tour from 18 months to two years but with no change in the deferment system. Its educational proﬁle remained much the same as it had been before 1940. Only in the mid-

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1960s did major changes occur. Young students with reserve training obligations were given special dispensations. As in England, the French offered a system of volunteering for military training in high school (Pre´paration Militaire Ele´mentaire [PME] and at the university (Pre´paration Militaire Secondaire [PMS]).18 French university population:19 1945–1946:

118,000

1961–1962:

244,000

1979:

800,000

Also in the 1950s, the French military began once again to assume responsibility to ﬁnish the education of all male youth. At a meeting at Chamonix in February 1956, the army authorities asserted their duty to offer civic preparation for youth, to maintain “the moral force of the nation.” While recognizing the desirability of allowing men to work at tasks that completed their civilian training, more important was the formation of character.20 The army ordered that all young draftees who had not achieved the level of the bacc should be required to take three hours a week of general instruction given by career NCOs. Since most youth found the rigors of initial training exhausting, and since most NCOs had little qualiﬁcations as educators, this practice became a subject of derision.21 More important for the long term, in the 1950s French demographic and educational patterns began to create problems for the purely military dimension of national service. As in the United States, there were too many youth reaching draft age. Like other nations of Western Europe in the postwar period, France faced a burgeoning population growth in general and in its schools in particular. France’s population jumped from 40.3 million in 1946 to 50 million in 1968. The birthrate per 1,000 population went from 16 in 1931–1936 to 20 in 1946–1954, then to 18 in 1954– 1968. This natural growth rate occurred while the mortality rate declined from 15.5 per 1,000 in 1930 to 11.5 in 1954–1958. Added to this was a surge of immigrants from former colonies.22 Something had to be done to ensure the continued liability of such youth, even if they could not all go into uniform. The solution was to broaden the meaning of national service to include nonmilitary tasks and to lengthen the deferment time for those seeking higher degrees.23 Thanks to a growing economy and educational reforms, a higher percentage of French youth were studying longer. In 1936 only 6.8 percent of youth at age 15 were granted diplomas of studies. By 1960 this ﬁgure had risen to 23.6 and in 1965 to 29.5 percent. In 1936 only 3.1 percent passed the bacc at age 18. By 1960 this was up to 12.1 percent and in 1970 to 16.1 percent. Of youth appearing at selection centers in 1962, only 5.7 percent had the bacc or

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more; by 1970 this was true of 23.1 percent of draftees. During the same period youth from 15 to 24 with the certiﬁcat d’aptitude professionnelle (CAP), a degree from a technical college, rose from 11.8 percent to 19 percent in 1968. This increased education was reﬂected in the growth of deferments. In 1947, only 5.7 percent of French males in the contingent were deferred, but by 1967, it was 45.8 percent.24 In 1968 France had 500,000 students in school and a growth rate of 56,000 more each year.25 To cope with the extension of education and the requirements of military service, France introduced delays and deferments. The law of 7 January 1959 formally established that all male citizens, ages 18 to 60, were liable to service either in the military or in nonmilitary defense jobs. The rules provided that any youth could apply for a delay in call to ﬁnish his studies. The delay could run to age 27 for those in superior studies but had to be renewed annually. It was open to students with good grades in e´coles, universities, graduate schools, and professional schools. Each year about 15,000 men who had earned the bacc were exempted, and in 1959 there were 150,000 other men with educational deferments (sursis).26 Altogether, about 27 percent of those eligible escaped conscription by 1970. Part of the reason was that they were not needed. The annual continent of eligibles had now reached 420,000, and the military only needed 275,000. Of those called up, if they held high degrees in law, science, or economics, they could expect a special assignment by the Ministry of Defense.27 The rise in deferments was inevitable as the cohort began to exceed military needs. While in September 1964 some 86 percent of men over age 20 reported they had ﬁnished their military service, this percentage began to decline. Between 1961 and 1970 the annual eligible cohort of 20-year-olds leaped from 265,000 to 420,000. In 1963, 30 percent of all eligible men were deferred; in 1966, 42 percent; by 1967, 45 percent.28 In 1970 alone 115,000 deferments were granted to a contingent of 420,000. By 1970, counting all types, there were in total 420,000 deferments in force.29 The system seemed out of control. One ofﬁcer wrote in 1969 that the rules seemed “de moins en moins accessible a` la claire et saine compre´hension du plus grand nombre” (less and less understandable to the greatest number). The military attempted repeatedly to revise rules to ﬁt the changing cycles of study at the universities, which became more and more diverse. The students who eventually ended up in the military were older than the cadre preferred. To encourage students to do military service after secondary school and before the university, the government considered reducing the age of enrollment to 20 and the tour to 12 months.30 Finally, in 1970 Miche´l Debre´, the minister of defense, introduced reform. The new system replaced the “Conseil de re´vision” with commissions operating at the department, regional, and national levels. The tour was cut from 18 to 12 months. All student deferments were ended, but each youth was now granted the right to select the age (between 18 and 22) at

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which he wished to enter national service. Graduate students could delay their enrollment until age 25 or 27, but then the length of service was extended. More signiﬁcantly, alternate forms of service31 in de´fense national, such as in the gendarmerie and pompiers, were now made service options.32 Under the new system there was “service a` la carte,” said critics: Men could reject delay and be enrolled immediately; men could delay to anytime between 18 and 22 and, if in studies, could take a delay until age 23 or later; and men studying for professions could contract to be deferred until they ﬁnished preparation and then serve longer. In 1975 out of a total of 318,000 called up, 50 percent asked for a delay, 37 percent asked nothing, and 13 percent were enrolled at the end of a previous deferment. The delay was designed to accommodate the age levels of different stages of the French education system, “to make easy the completion of a cycle.”33 The rules for French deferment were “comme le plus libe´ral du monde,” according to the Ministe`re des Arme´es, but could not keep up with the constant changes in cycles of studies. Some students in advanced studies abused the system. In law school only one in three obtained a degree, while all took a delay. By the late 1980s some 78 percent of men with a university diploma of the second cycle avoided all service. Jean-Pierre Cheve´ment, a socialist politician, announced that “the future elite of the country give a bad example.” By the 1990s the graduates of the grandes e´coles, if they served at all, were mostly in plush assignments.34 The French deferment system functioned in a pattern similar to that of the United States (see below). The pyramiding of educational deferments became common. By the late 1980s those students pursuing superior studies or professional training could delay their enrollment to age 24 or 25. This pool involved about 150,000 students ranging in age from 22 to 25. Military authorities applauded this “harmonious unfolding of studies.” The minister of defense announced in 1989 that “one is right to encourage youth to advance as far as they are able toward superior studies. It is not normal that they are stopped in their path by National Service.” Consequently, like the United States, men at the two extremes of the educational ladder saw little service. The rate of exemption of those without any degree was 52.9 percent; those with a master’s license were exempted at a 17.6 percent rate, and engineers at 20.9 percent. Such discrepancies contributed to the decision in 1997 to end conscription and use all volunteers.35 GREAT BRITAIN As the French, the British began reforming their draft plan after World War I. In 1922 a committee chaired by Sir Graham Greene issued a report on the need to avoid the wastage of skilled manpower and the poor utilization of talent that had characterized the recent war. This report gathered

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dust in the War Ofﬁce until 1934 when Sir William Dampier of Cambridge once again raised the issue and called for planning.36 Desultory discussions between the War Ofﬁce (WO) and representatives from Cambridge, Oxford, and London Universities continued for a few years, but not until January 1938 was a plan actually drawn up. Largely the inspiration of the universities, the scheme called for the appointment of University Joint Recruitment Boards (JRBs), staffed by school personnel, which would have the responsibility of vetting young scholars in the event of mobilization. Initially, the mission of the boards was to ﬁnd ofﬁcer candidates, but it soon expanded to oversee the use of university men, with deferments for science and engineering scholars being the goal.37 In the initial plan the boards worked under the War Ofﬁce, but in the summer of 1939 this was changed to the Ministry of Labour. Formally constituted on 4 August 1939, the boards were soon in operation. Under the training act passed in August, students were subject to a service liability. The school representatives lobbied for delaying this training until after graduation, but an interdepartmental committee on the military training bill found such a delay “politically unsound.” The government preferred students do their training before their schooling. A committee of vice chancellors of universities vigorously opposed this suggestion. The WO then retreated before the deans and eventually announced that undergrads affected by military training could postpone their call until a date not later than one month after conclusion of their courses. When war began on 1 September 1939 and the National Service Act passed on 24 October, this arrangement changed.38 The Ministry of Labour and National Service had two instruments of management for elite personnel: a central register of specialized personnel, with subcommittees covering various ﬁelds in science and engineering, and the JRBs at each university. The central register had the responsibility of identifying and, after training, placing the special men in the appropriate position in industry or the services. By July 1940 all men with special ability in science and technology were required to enroll on the register if not serving in armed forces. Such men were then considered for protection under the schedule of reserve occupations.39 University students, if recommended by the JRBs, received a deferment subject to satisfactory progress and joining the senior training corps or an air training corps. When a boy entered the university he appeared before the JRB, which recommended a service for which he was to be “attested.” If he enlisted, he was placed in a reserve unit to pursue his academic program while being trained. After three terms, he was called up by the service. In a few cases the service could grant, based on university recommendation, an additional period of deferment to ﬁnish a stage of study.40 From October 1939 through the end of January 1940 the JRBs interviewed over 5,000 undergrads and resident grads under age 25 who had

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scientiﬁc or technical qualiﬁcations. The JRB assigned men into ﬁve basic categories: (1) well qualiﬁed for service in a technical branch of armed forces; (2) holds useful scientiﬁc or technical qualiﬁcations but is physically or otherwise unsuited for military; (3) men still studying who, because of promise, should be advised to ﬁnish studies; (4) outstanding scientiﬁc or technical qualiﬁcation for original research of a high order; (5) not qualiﬁed for special treatment. Men in the ﬁrst four categories were reserved from serving except in their specialty. Over 3,000 were noted as ofﬁcer material. Of the remaining 2,000 about half were recommend for service in military technical units. Another 1,000 were recommended to continue their studies, with 111 to do special research. About 458 were denied deferments.41 Besides identifying specialized students, the ministry also put pressure on the universities to reduce their degree programs. This raised a conﬂict between the needs of the military and industry for immediate specialists and the university’s view of what was required to provide proper education to such men. Altering the academic year threatened ancient rules. The vice chancellors made clear early in the mobilization that any reduction of degree time was to be resisted. When the draft age was dropped to 18 in 1942 the problem became intense. The faculty wanted boys to serve only after receiving a degree. Sir Walter Moberly, chair of the university grant committee, suggested that there would be enough boys volunteering before college to meet military needs.42 This attitude threatened the harmony that the MLNS sought in relations with university ofﬁcials. Such ofﬁcials were voluntarily manning the JRBs and playing a vital role in ministry business. As academically qualiﬁed and close to the students, these individuals were considered uniquely ﬁt to screen students for deferments. But when only one or two universities made an attempt to shorten courses, the ministry was disappointed. Most schools just refused to take boys who could not begin their work at a postintermediate stage. This hardly met the need of greater output in less time. In 1941–1942 the schools were able to pick and choose, but in the new year that would be impossible because of call-ups. A labor ofﬁcial predicted that when schools found empty places they “will come bleating to us asking for concessions here and concessions there.” The ministry stressed to universities that shorter courses were expected and that boys with lower-thanstandard degrees were useful in the emergency. A course of two years and three months was speciﬁed in May 1942.43 This interference in academic tradition provoked a negative reaction from Oxford. Claiming to be training a superior type of chemist at a time when such men were desperately needed, Professor Sir Robert Robinson of Oriel College made clear that Oxford deserved special consideration, as opposed to those schools that were dealing with merely average students.44 Faced with this attitude, at ﬁrst the ministry dithered about reducing terms, especially in chemistry, but by January 1943, action became imper-

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ative. With men born in 1925 due to be called up in the summer of 1943, and with plans under way for expanding the war to the continent of Europe, the ministry decided to tighten up the system. The age of call-up was reduced to 18, and students were expected to ﬁnish their program in two years three months (raised to two years nine months in 1944). Only men who could expect to ﬁnish their classes by December 1945 were to be considered for deferment. Even within this group only the “most promising” were to be protected. The ﬁelds of engineering and physics with radio and metallurgy were excepted from these limits.45 A memo in February 1943 made the new guidelines ofﬁcial. A total of one-third of all chemistry grads was programmed for enlistment into the army. This decision, however, did not sit well with the savants at Oxford.46 Their displeasure emerged when a special War Ofﬁce committee arrived at Oxford with the job of picking chemists for commissions in the army. Usually the committee took about one-third of the men who were graduating and had attested. But at Oxford the committee had trouble determining who was eligible because the university had a “unique system of deferment.” Oxford was ignoring the two year three months limit. On average, each year 70 men entered chemistry. After 3 terms of residence some 25 percent took a war degree and went to industry. The other 75 percent went on to a second year. After ﬁnishing two years they were reviewed, but the most promising two-thirds went on to 3 more terms and then did an extra year of research, which allowed them to ﬁnish all 12 terms and graduate with a part II degree. About 40 students survived the full tour.47 The WO committee found itself bafﬂed by the unique program. Although the MLNS had known for some time that Oxford chemistry was operating according to its own rules, the question now arose of how to determine the one-third due for commissions and when to take them. The committee picked one-third of the second-year men, but since this would drastically cut enrollment in the honors school, it was vigorously resisted by university ofﬁcials.48 School representatives appealed to the MLNS, where they reached a sympathetic ear. D. Daniel Raphael of the MLNS supported Oxford. He did not think it important whether the WO got one-third of Oxford’s chemists or not. Better that these students do work of national importance than go into the army. The problem, however, was not the army’s quota but Oxford having a unique deferment system that ran over two years and three months. Although at ﬁrst glance such discrimination seemed illegal, Raphael thought “the Oxford Joint Recruiting Board is being very sensible in the way it is disregarding the letter of the law.” The Oxford chemistry program produced outstanding results. While other schools might complain, he felt the special program at Oxford deserved special consideration.49 In defense of this special treatment, S. H. Hammis of Oriel College

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insisted that Oxford was training not just chemists but creative minds, and such training required more than three years. A. D. Landry of the JRB at Oxford insisted that men were kept on not for their own protection, for they had no claim to avoid service, but to beef up research teams and make proper utilization of their talent.50 This dispute aside, overall the MLNS and WO did well through the universities. In the fall of 1943, the military interviewing committee visited 23 universities to line up chemists for military service. A total of one-third of all such students had to be called up. The committee conducted 750 interviews and found the students anxious to serve, but not as chemists. Many wanted pilot training. It had to be reiterated that the only reason they were deferred was to serve in their specialty. The WO eventually found 200 for commissions, or one-sixth of the total chemist output for the year.51 Another controversy arose over what subjects should be protected. There was little dispute over the need to protect men studying science, engineering, medicine, or dentistry. Such men were given protection until qualiﬁed to take their place as ofﬁcers in the forces.52 Surprisingly, due regard was also given to men in nonscientiﬁc ﬁelds, mainly out of consideration for the postwar world. Even students in obscure languages were given consideration. In the ﬁrst two years of the war, since call-ups were delayed until age 20 or 21, art students were allowed to enroll in the university. But when the age of call-up dropped to 18, such liberalism stopped. By October 1942, all deferments in the arts were ended, but special appeals could still be made to the relevant advisory committees.53 Compared to the American system, the British achieved a high level of control over their educated manpower. They recruited and registered specialized talent. They instituted control over who went to college and how long he stayed. The boys allowed to attend beyond one year were placed under control for later assignment where needed, in civilian or military jobs. This control was achieved by working closely with university ofﬁcials. The ministry accepted that “university authorities . . . were the most competent authority to recommend that a student be allowed” to take part in the deferment scheme. Although there were some minor disputes, such as at Oxford, generally the schools worked well with the government in assuring maximum utilization of this elite manpower. It was quite different from the shambles of World War I.54 The British public accepted this special treatment of the educated elite with equanimity if not support. Long accustomed to elite privileges in British society, the average Briton was also reassured by the limited numbers involved. During the middle of the war only about 20,000 were covered by the deferment plan, including medical students, engineering, and industrial apprentices. In 1945 it was reduced to 10,000, then to 8,000.55 And there was a price to be paid. Even after the war ended, the students who received such deferments were managed by the government. Although the

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claim that all would eventually share the same burden of military service was inﬂated, these men were controlled. As their deferments drew to a close with the award of a degree, they were interviewed by the Technical and Scientiﬁc Register and faced three options: allocation to the forces, allocated to a civilian job, or put on hold while ﬁnal exams were taken.56 After the war, Britain faced a formidable task, for peacetime conscription was unique. Yet the Labour government had no trouble in continuing the system because of the need to fulﬁll occupation and colonial responsibilities. Without a continuing call-up, the men who had served through the war would be forced to remain on active duty. The deplorable state of the British economy after the war also required some attention. How could the government continue its worldwide military position while simultaneously ﬁnding the labor needed to conduct domestic reconstruction? Taking young men into the military ensured a continuation of domestic labor shortages. In particular, the rebuilding economy would need a large supply of bright young men. At a meeting with a committee of vice chancellors in December 1945 the academicians agreed on giving priority of place to returning veterans, but they also wanted a continuation of deferments for science students. Indeed, they now requested deferments in all subjects for all students born after 30 September 1927. They also asked that the cooks and domestics at the colleges be deferred. The ministry resisted the last idea but assured them that the government was “always ready to consult the Universities on all matters.”57 During the postwar period the British deferment system expanded and contracted with the regularity of a compulsory dieter, but the overall trend was to expand. A Defense White Paper in May 1946 provided that men born before 1 October 1927 whose call-up was deferred because of student status were to be called up or retained in civil jobs when they ﬁnished their courses. Those men born after 1 October 1927 and admitted to the university before the end of 1946 could stay deferred until the end of their courses.58 In 1947 and 1949 when the British renewed their National Service Act, the protection of science students was continued. It now became possible for all students in these ﬁelds to delay their call-up until after ﬁnishing their degree, but places for new students were limited by the priority given returning veterans. The provisions for deferring medical, dental, and veterinary students also remained in force. There was little political dispute over these deferment provisions, and the age of call-up remained at 18.59 The schools got pretty much what they wanted from the government. Science students were assured a deferment until graduation, even if they took graduate studies. Even art students were offered deferments. The government accepted the need for professionals in all ﬁelds, that university places must be ﬁlled. After ensuring room for returning veterans, some of

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whom got an early release to resume studies, the government allowed students to put off their military service until after the degree.60 A graduate could go to graduate school and then take a deferred job. A man in a deferred job was allowed to return to school for more courses. Those studying to be teachers were allowed to take up a deferred position as educators in all ﬁelds.61 The overriding policy was “to interfere as little as possible with normal academic education,” even if this meant postgraduate work, language majors, or travel abroad. The years after the war saw “a gradual whittling away of the original intention” about no special treatment.62 With the outbreak of ﬁghting in Korea, the British revamped their draft system. The length of tour had already been extended from 18 months to two years, but now instructions went out on the handling of students. The main lines of the World War II operation were reinstalled. Art students were no longer entitled to a delay in call, but those men studying the sciences and engineering received a deferment. Veterans who were subject to recall but enrolled as students were also protected until the end of their courses, as were other students with deferments. Medical students again received a blanket deferment, and a register for science and engineering provided guidance in those ﬁelds. The University UJRB again assumed primary responsibility for operating the deferments. At this time the schools were not asked to cut their curricula.63 What strikes the observer during this period of limited war is the extraordinary generosity of the British government toward their young male elites. In Great Britain neither the MLNS nor the armed forces saw any beneﬁt in having young students serve in uniform. In contrast to France and the United States, Britain put young students into the military with reluctance. For one thing, such men were not needed. By the end of the 1950s there were a total of almost 78,000 male, full-time students in undergraduate and graduate education in Britain. For every 1 male student, there were 500 males in the draft-age cohort.64 Beyond the numbers, the British seemed willing to bend over backwards to accommodate the schools and the students. Consider the problem of pyramiding—a student turning one deferment into another to avoid service. Under the British system deferments were extended to allow students to obtain a second degree, even adding Latin to a Greek major. There was a provision for continuing the deferment so that the student could obtain “practical training” in a job after taking a degree in science or engineering. Men with an occupational deferment were offered opportunities of converting it to a student deferment if they wished to return for a degree. By 1954 all students accepted by a university were deferred. In 1955 the MLNS worried that without a ceiling on student deferments granted in one year, the services would face unacceptable shortages in specialist jobs.65 After some consideration, the ministry established a quota system for all government agencies requiring such graduates.66

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The government was almost apologetic about imposing upon the universities and interfering with studies. When Cambridge and Oxford complained that the required reserve training for ex-national servicemen interfered with studies, the ministry immediately made revisions. Even the War Ofﬁce began “harmonizing with universities and bending to their desires.” If the ministry adopted a tough line, it expected to be overruled by the government.67 Where American draft ofﬁcials worried that deferring students meant calling some other mother’s son to serve, in Britain it proved virtually impossible to remove a deferment, no matter what the academic progress. Unofﬁcially, the MLNS left it to the school to decide when a man must leave. This meant that some students made no progress and even repeatedly failed their exams without loss of deferment. As R. L. Bicknell of the MLNS wrote, “[W]e have no wish to be at all stern or intolerant; our object simply is to bar the rather scandalous extremes which we ﬁnd that things are at present capable of running.”68 The ministry’s problem was partly a result of abdicating authority to the university ofﬁcials. The fact was that the JRBs ran amuck with little control from the ministry. In one case “hundreds of deferments granted months previously were not entered in the records.” Yet even with this evidence the ministry feared to “step on toes at Universities.”69 The British could afford to be liberal as the decade drew to an end. Plans called for the cessation of conscription in 1960. THE UNITED STATES The American deferment system proved less ﬂexible and less protective of elite manpower. Although the law provided for deferment, public opinion ensured that such an option was exercised with discretion. The civilian volunteers on local boards—veterans and patriots—had classiﬁcation authority; they decided who would be deferred. The American draft law of 1940 asserted that despite its universality the president could provide deferments for men who were “necessary to the maintenance of the public health, safety, or interest.” The law speciﬁcally provided for temporary deferment, up to 1 July 1941, for men enrolled in colleges for the academic year 1940–1941. The 1940 law read: “No deferment from such training and service shall be made in the case of any individual except upon the basis of the status of such individual, and no such deferment shall be made of individuals by occupational groups or of groups of individuals in any plant or institution.”70 Public opinion about special treatment of students varied. The National Association of State Universities came out in “unalterable opposition” to any blanket deferment for students, but Charles Seymour, president of Yale, called on the government to institute a special program by which

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college students could fulﬁll their draft obligation by serving four months in the summer at the colleges. A poll by the American Association of Junior Colleges found most students agreed that they should be deferred through graduation.71 In 1941 President Roosevelt announced, “Certainly, we do not want to provide that the mere matriculation into college can serve as a means of evading the compulsory military training.” Robert Patterson, assistant secretary of war, and Lewis Hershey, head of the draft, both opposed such preferential treatment.72 Despite such attitudes, the prewar draft did offer some protection to students. Of 105,000 college students who reached age 21 before or on 1 July 1941, only 8.4 percent were classiﬁed 1-A. By law all students who requested a deferment to 1 July 1941 were granted such.73 General Hershey divided students into three groups: ﬁrst, those in ﬁelds such as engineering and medicine where there were shortages; second, students who might be useful for defense and thereby eligible for deferment under the “national health, safety” category; and third, draftable students. Local boards had to make the decision, but no blanket deferment was offered.74 To obtain a deferment the student had to prove that ﬁnishing his courses “will make him of more value to the defense program and that there will be a shortage in the ﬁeld.” To prevent hardship for men who were already in college when called, local boards could offer a postponement to the end of the term or semester.75 As an additional concession to universities desperate to retain a student enrollment during the war, the administration established an Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP) and a similar setup for the navy. Young ofﬁcer cadets were enrolled in the service and then did training while still taking their degree. Created in early 1943, the ASTP eventually enrolled 150,000, before being cut back in February 1944. The program served no real military purpose, and Major General Harry L. Twaddle wrote after the war: “The underlying reason for institution of the ASTP program was to prevent some colleges and universities from going into bankruptcy. From a strictly mobilization viewpoint, the value of the program was nil.”76 Despite these measures, the armed forces obtained a large share of the nation’s educated manpower. This was mainly due to the comprehensiveness of mobilization. Enrollments in graduate schools and professional schools dropped by 30 to 40 percent by 1943. In World War II twice as many college men served as draftees as had served in World War I. College male enrollment in November 1943 dropped to 373,993, a 38 percent decline from November 1942. This decline was modiﬁed somewhat by the assignment of 288,000 military students to the colleges, 140,000 from ASTP alone. By the end of the war the military had obtained the uniformed service of 50 percent of the male student population.77 In the spring of 1943, Selective Service revised the student deferment program. To be eligible for consideration a student had to major in 1 of

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20 subjects considered useful in the war and expect to graduate before July 1945. The total number of such deferments was to be no more than 27,000. In addition the system provided for what amounted to group deferments for students in medicine and engineering through ofﬁcer training programs on campus.78 President Roosevelt and General George Marshall soon wanted fewer deferments. In early 1944, with preparations for the invasion of Europe under way, leaders worried about the shortage of ﬁghting men. Marshall ended ASTP, and Roosevelt put pressure on Selective Service to cut down the deferments. On 15 February an order provided that a student majoring in the authorized ﬁeld had to graduate before 1 July 1944 to be deferred. Only 10,000 deferments were allotted, limited to the ﬁelds of chemistry, engineering, geology, geophysics, and physics. The War Department, however, had a blanket deferment for 10,000 young men working on radar and the atomic bomb.79 These reductions in deferments raised protest in the education and science establishments. Charles L. Parsons of the American Chemical Society predicted disaster for future research.80 But the war was won, and one of the many factors contributing to this victory was the harnessing of specialized talent into the war machine. When Harry Truman became president in April 1945, he had no desire to continue the draft, let alone student deferments, but he soon presided over both a draft and an elaborate protection of elites.81 Science had a large role to play in ﬁghting the Cold War. The nation’s supply of scientists had fallen “dangerously low,” according to Vannevar Bush, head of the Ofﬁce of Scientiﬁc Research and Development. He and others wanted an immediate end to the drafting of scientists and students in training.82 The president preferred not to draft anyone. After the dropping of atomic bombs on Japan, he told his cabinet that the draft “is unimportant for long run military security.” Truman preferred a universal military training (UMT) system to develop trained manpower, patriotism, citizenship, and good health.83 But the draft had to continue temporarily to cover occupation and replacement responsibilities. In these circumstances, Secretary of War Patterson wanted to defer scientists and special students to ensure that “we do not relax the concerted effort which was made during the war to concentrate the best of our scientiﬁc brains on the development of weapons.”84 In November 1945, Selective Service instructed local boards to consider deferments for graduate students in physical sciences and engineering programs and undergraduates who had ﬁnished three years.85 The wartime draft mandate ran out on 31 March 1947, but then Congress rejected Truman’s UMT plan, the services found few volunteers, and the Cold War heated up. Russia tightened its control in East Germany and Czechoslovakia. American scientists and politicians called for the United States to expand its technological superiority over the Soviets.86 In 1948 Truman asked Congress to renew the draft. When Congress tried to defer

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all college students, the administration rejected this step as class discrimination. The new law merely deferred all college students until the end of the academic year in which they were called but also allowed the president to establish deferments on an individual basis for men studying special subjects.87 In August 1948, Selective Service appointed special advisory committees to review the need to defer students in the humanities, engineering, physical sciences, biological sciences, social sciences, and healing arts. The committees agreed that a student deferment program should be selective and not universal and that all ﬁelds of study should be covered, not just the sciences and engineering. Both a national test and class standing were to be used to establish eligibility.88 Special local advisory committees were organized to assist local boards on the continued deferment of graduating scientists.89 The plan was distinctly elitist, although the committee did recommend federal scholarships for all deserving students.90 The program met opposition. The American Association of Universities, headed by men such as James Conant of Harvard, Herman Wells of Indiana, and Henry M. Wriston of Brown, felt the armed forces should induct men and assign them to colleges that could teach them skills needed by the military. The administration was also divided on the plan, expecting protest from labor unions. Instead of adopting the plan, Truman decided to continue the present system. After all, draft calls were declining and conscription was scheduled to expire in June 1950.91 When North Korea invaded South Korea on 25 June 1950, the plan reappeared. The U.S. armed forces total strength was less than 600,000. After Truman’s decision to intervene in Korea, the army called up 650,000 reservists and National Guard troops, which caused major protest from veterans. The draft was quickly renewed, and Congress authorized an active force of approximately 3.5 million.92 The science lobby now demanded special consideration. J. F. Victory of the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics called for a new deferred classiﬁcation for scientists, engineers, technicians, and science students.93 In July 1950, the plan by the Science Advisory Committee was implemented.94 E. Lowell Kelley, professor of psychology at Michigan, explained that the inequality in intelligence required that the nation not squander “our most precious national resources” by drafting the brightest as privates. The Science Advisory Committee became a permanent part of the draft. Graduates had four months to ﬁnd a job with an occupational deferment.95 At this time one in ﬁve American high school graduates started college, and 12 percent graduated. The draft age cohort was declining. The number of males who turned 18 each month dropped from 100,000 in the 1940s to 90,000 in 1951. Half of all American families in 1950 had an annual income of less than $3,000, and the cost of a year at a public college was

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$700, which still made it a luxury.96 The minority of males who could attend college now found themselves the beneﬁciaries of a deferment opportunity. The Selective Service College Qualiﬁcation Test (SSCQT) was given in the spring of 1951. A total of 339,066 young men, or 75 percent of the 450,000 male college students eligible for the draft and without another deferment, took the ﬁrst series of tests given in 1951. Altogether about 53 percent of the freshmen and 63 percent of all classes who took the test scored 70 (passing) or above. Of the 108,000 who scored below 70, 47,000 obtained deferment because of class standing. About 78 percent of all students who took the test qualiﬁed for deferment.97 The American public disapproved the college deferment system. A poll in December 1950 reported that two-thirds of the sample wanted conscription for every young man when he turned 18 or graduated from high school. By February 1951, however, disenchantment with the war was growing, and only 38 percent favored drafting college students.98 This special protection might have been acceptable to the public, but labor unions objected to the class bias. The new system had led to the deferral of three students for every one industrial worker. William Green of the American Federation of Labor complained that the system meant young working boys had to serve at a higher rate.99 In fact, there were other deferments available. From September 1951 through April 1952, 490,000 men were drafted, but only 1 in 16 in the eligible age group (19– 26). Some 5,257,000 men had dependency and job deferments. But to satisfy Green the president ordered a delay in call to young men in apprentice programs for mechanics and machinists as well as other skilled workers in defense or civilian industry.100 Despite these deferments, American males served at a high rate during the Korean War. The military participation rate (MPR) for the male draftage cohort averaged 70 to 75 percent. Of the 25 percent who did not serve, two-thirds were rejected as unﬁt and one-third had deferments—909,000 for dependency, 110,000 for occupations, and 850,000 as students.101 The same relative percentage held regardless of whether a man was a high school or college dropout or a high school or college graduate. Only grammar school dropouts and men with graduate degrees had a smaller participation rate.102 The college deferment plan now became a part of the manpower landscape in the Cold War.103 Students had uninterrupted education, and draft authorities had a device for dealing with a surplus of manpower. In short order, it became expected that students would be deferred at least until graduation. Such expectations, however, created problems when President Johnson decided to expand draft calls to meet the challenge in Vietnam in 1964. Now Selective Service had to ﬁnd many more men. When the new calls began, about 150,000 young men were reaching age

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19 each month. The draft system sought to weed out weaker students. Local boards leaped to the role because of a widely held belief that the colleges were ﬁlled with malingerers and war protesters. A survey in 1966 found that 70 percent of local boards stressed class standing when considering reclassifying a student into 1-A.104 The entire idea of student deferments began to lose favor with draft authorities, largely because of the increased radicalism on campuses. The deferment system had presumed cooperation by college ofﬁcials desiring to protect their students. By 1966, with the disenchantment over the Vietnam War, that cooperation broke down and was replaced in some cases by outright hostility. Students saw local boards as anachronisms.105 Faculty members resisted being coopted into the draft system through reporting class standing. Deans resented providing information on progress to graduation. When a dozen or more large, prestigious schools refused to release grades to draft ofﬁcials, the system began to wobble.106 Yet, ironically, the buildup for Vietnam contributed to an increased rate of participation across the educational spectrum. The draft provided two means of recruiting men for the armed services: directly by induction and indirectly by forcing some to enlist in the reserves or volunteer for active duty. In ﬁscal year 1965– 1966 about 1 million men entered some form of the military. Of this group more had some college than no college. The draft was ensuring a high quality of enlistments.107 By 1967 President Johnson began trying to reform the draft system to answer criticism of inequity, but when Congress ﬁnally renewed the draft for 1967, the ﬁnal product looked familiar. Johnson had asked for a debate on college deferments and for ending graduate deferments. During congressional hearings Harold Howe II, the Commissioner of Education, warned that inductions threatened “almost unmanageable problems” for universities. Nathan M. Pusey of Harvard, Fred Harrington of Wisconsin, Kingman Brewster of Yale, and other university presidents also dismissed the current system as too unfair.108 Congress disagreed, and the bill that passed in May 1967 offered a deferment to all undergraduates until graduation without the use of any test or class ranking.109 College deferments continued, but now graduate students had to be studying certain ﬁelds before being granted the same status. Johnson signed the bill despite reservations.110 When Richard Nixon became president in 1969 he wanted to end all deferments and create a lottery system for induction.111 Nixon could end nonstudent deferments by an executive order, but students were protected by the law of 1967. There were now about 1.7 million men with this deferment, which sparked charges of class bias. If the deferments ended suddenly the entire undergraduate enrollment in the country could drop by 7 percent, but without an end, Nixon’s plan to institute a lottery would be unworkable.112

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On 23 April 1970 Nixon sent a message to Congress endorsing the idea of an all-volunteer force, calling for pay increases for the military and asking for authority to control undergraduate deferments. He also issued an executive order ending occupational, agricultural, and all future paternity deferments.113 After considerable political wrangling and growing protest over the direction of the war, Congress gave Nixon what he wanted. On 28 September 1971 a new draft bill passed. Nixon immediately ended all educational deferments and reduced the force levels in Vietnam. Over the next several months, calls were cut and the preliminaries for an allvolunteer force were polished. The draft ended in America in the spring of 1973.114

NOTES 1. During the war France called up over 35,000 teachers, who represented 25 percent of this profession, and almost 20 percent of those called up died. See Eugen J. Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930’s (New York: Norton, 1994), p. 20. 2. U.S. Statutes at Large, 54 Stat. 1940, p. 885; National Service Act, 1 September 1939, in Law Reports Statues, 1939, 3 September 1939, 2–4 George VI, vol. 2, pp. 1140–1141; Code du Service National (Journal ofﬁciel de la Re´publique franc¸aise, 1989), p. 6, Art. L. 1. 3. B. R. Mitchell, ed., British Historical Statistics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp. 20, table from 811–812. 4. See Eugen J. Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of Rural France, 1870–1914 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1976), chap. 17; Maurice Larkin, France since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936– 1986 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), pp. 15–17. 5. See in this debate the “Review Essays” in the American Historical Review 102 (June 1997): 746–774. 6. Jacques Dupaˆquier, Histoire de la population franc¸aise: Vol. 4: De 1914 a` nos jours (Paris: Presses Universitaires de Franc¸aise, 1988), p. 362. 7. U.S. Department of Commerce, Historical Statistics of the United States: Colonial Times to 1970, 2 pts. (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1975), I: 383. 8. Ibid., I: 381. 9. Larkin, France, p. 16. 10. Quote in Robert O. Paxton, Parades and Politics at Vichy: The French Ofﬁcer Corps under Marshal Petain (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), p. 181. 11. Ibid., pp. 183–184, 187, 191, 210, 212. 12. Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV), ﬁle 9N169, doss. 9, 1921. 13. Resume of interesting measures taken by Min. of War in National Def. since November 1929, MACV, 5n581–1a; Min. of War to CGs of Mil. Regions, 19 September 1931, MACV, 6n9(4/00) dossier. For later reference to this law see E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre, Le Service national (e´dition me´thodique) (Paris:

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Ministe`re des Arme´es: BO des Arme´es), 1 June 1968, pp. 116–118, 121 (hereafter cited as BO,SN). 14. Paxton, Parades, p. 210; for an overview of this period see Philippe Burrin, France under the Germans: Collaboration and Compromise, trans. Janet Lloyd (New York: New Press, 1996); Ian Ousby, Occupation: The Ordeal of France, 1940–1944 (London: J. Murray, 1997). 15. Paxton, Parades, pp. 183–184, 187, 191, 210, 212; Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es (hereafter cited as SIRPA) doss. Service Nationale, 1 January 1945; Larkin, France, p. 91. 16. Min. of AF to CS of Military Regions, 26 March 1948, MACV, SCdR, 24t1EMAT. 17. Ibid. 18. Fiche no. 6, 1950, MACV, 6T295, EMAT; note on adoption of 2 years service, 21 December 1951, MACV, 6T296–1, EMAT, 1o; Mins. of meeting at Chamonix from 18 to 19 February 1956, 9 March 1956, ibid. 19. From 1959 to 1988 the student population in France grew from 6 million to 13 million; in 1958, 30 percent left school at age 14, while in 1987, 70 percent of males stayed to age 18; the percentage of boys with the baccalaureate, taken at 18, rose from 8 percent to 23 percent from 1962 to 1987. See Robert Gildea, France since 1945 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), pp. 111, 113. 20. Minutes of meeting at Chamonix, 9 March 1956, MACV, 6t296, EMAT, 1o; Report on cycle of conferences org. at London for members of Union of Western Europe by British Min. of Ed., 11 to 21 April 1956, 26 April 1956, ibid. 21. Report on cycle of conferences, ibid. 22. Pierre Bezbakh, Histoire de la France contemporaine (Paris: Bordas, 1990), p. 197. 23. Memo on deﬁnition of De´fense Nationale, 18 January 1956, MACV, 6t296, EMAT, 1o. 24. Louis Pinto, “L’Arme´e, le contingent et les classes sociales,” Actes de la recherche en sciences sociales 1 (May 1975): 25; Georges Marey, “Le Service national et le code du service national-II,” Revue militaire generale 28 (1972): 33. The CAP led to professional certiﬁcation in a trade. 25. Larkin, France, pp. 318, 328, 348. Channeling students began at age 13. 26. Deferments are also called “les reports” or delays. In the early 1960s all educational deferments for men older than age 25 were ended, except for those students in medicine and dentistry. See Albert A. Blum, “Comparative Conscription Systems: An Exploratory Analysis,” in Roger W. Little, ed., A Survey of Military Institutions (Chicago: Inter-university Seminar on Armed Forces and Society, 1969), p. 457; Georges Marey, “Le Service national et le Code du Service National,” Revue militaire ge´ne´rale 27 (1971): 655–656. 27. Blum, “Comparative,” p. 458; BO,SN, ed. method, 1 June 1968, p. 118; Marey, “Service national,” p. 666; Marey, “Service national-II,” p. 38; “Un service,” TAM, 28 March 1975, p. 22; Franc¸ois Cailleteau, “La Conscription: Les e´le´ments du proble`me,” De´fense nationale (January 1990): pp. 17–18. 28. George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup International Public Opinion Polls, France, 1939, 1944–1976, 2 vols. (New York: Random House, 1976), I: 434–435; Marey, “Service national,” p. 657; Michel L. Martin, Warriors to Managers: The French Military Establishment since 1945 (Chapel Hill: University of North Car-

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olina Press, 1981), pp. 119, 123; Blum, “Comparative,” p. 456; Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 877; Recapitulation revision classes 1968, 2e tranche, 1 decembre 1968, MACV, 24T6, EMAT, Bureau du Recrutement; C. Vimont, “E´tudes des caracte´ristiques sanitaires et sociales des jeunes du contingent,” Institut national d’e´tudes demographiques, 18 (1963): 508; Bernard Tricot, “Dossier pour la re´forme du recrutement,” De´fense nationale 21 (1965): 958. 29. In 1966 there were 97,000 new deferments; 105,000 in 1967; 84,000 in 1968; 92,000 in 1969. See Marey, “le Service national,” pp. 662–663; Martin, Warriors, p. 121; Lt. Col. Pichene a` Minister EMAT, SCR, 7 July 1969, 24t10, EMAT, MACV; Le Col. Moritel, Marseille, au Min. ETAT, SCR, 21 July 1969, 24t10, EMAT, MACV. 30. Critique du regime des Suesis pour e´tudes, 15 March 1967, MACV, 24t2–3; SCduR reﬂexions on service & sursis, 1969, MACV, SCdR, 24t2–3. 31. The two principal avenues for this alternate service were “l’aide technique” and “la cooperation.” The tour was generally longer, ranging up to 21 months. Work could be done in France with certain agencies, such as forest ﬁre control, police work, and special health agencies. See Franc¸aise, Journal ofﬁciel de la Re´publique, Code du service national, 1989 (Paris: DIRJO, 1989), III: 16; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” p. 859. 32. General Loyer, “Les Me´canismes d’application de la conscription en France en 1976,” De´fense national (France) 32(10): (1976): 35, 36, 38. The impact of ending deferments on education became clear in 1972–1973. The street protest that emerged was directed more at declining educational opportunity than at national service. See Bernard Guetta, “Mobilisation au Lyce´e,” Le Nouvel observateur, 26 March 1973, pp. 32–34. 33. Quote in Michel Labor, “Faut-il supprimer le service militaire,” L’Express, 13 June 1980, p. 33; second quote in Loyer, “Me´canismes,” pp. 48, 51, 61. More than a third of all students obtained the baccalaureate before age 18, 32 percent at age 19, 22 percent at age 20, and 9 percent after age 21. Deferments were also offered to those seeking higher-level education: certiﬁed teachers, students of the grandes e´coles and of the 3rd cycle or the supe´rieures courtes. Martin, Warriors, p. 170n55. Setting induction at ages 18 to 21 could be seen as relieving pressure on a jobless economy and inadequate academic facilities. 34. Critique du re´gime des Sursis pour E´tudes, n.d., SCR, 24t2, MACV; Code du Service National, 1989, p. 17; Blandine Grosjean, “Conscription: Universal, mon oeil” (universal, my eye), L’E´ve´nement du jeudi, 4–10 October 1990, p. 92; Guy-Michel Chauveau, Le Service national: Rapport au ministre de la de´fense (Paris: La Documentation Franc¸aise, 1990). 35. SIRPA /MD doss., 14 January 1989, pp. 1–2; Regard, SIRPA, 1994, p. 8. 36. H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), p. 331. 37. Ibid., pp. 331–332. 38. Ibid., p. 333; Ministry of Labour announcement, n.d., 1939, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO), Lab6/104; Inter-dept. Committee on Military Training Bill, memo C., 1939, ibid.

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39. Parker, Manpower, pp. 321–322; memo, 10 October 1940, PRO/CAB90/ 1. 40. Undated, unsigned memo on Entry to Universities and call-up of 1924 age class, 1942, PRO/Lab6/190. 41. MLNS memo, 31 January 1940, PRO/Lab6/126. 42. Deputation from Univ. members of Parl., 1939, PRO/Lab6/105. 43. Henry Brinton to Hardman, 2 December 1942, PRO/Lab6/253; Hardman to Guy, 5 December 1942, ibid. 44. Parker, Manpower, p. 313; Robinson to MLNS, 8 May 1942, PRO/Lab6/ 208; H. Claughton to W. B. Brader, 18 June 1942, ibid.; MLNS Appointments Dept. Central (Tech. and Scientiﬁc) Register. Chemistry Com. mins. of meeting, 23 November 1942, PRO/Lab6/251. 45. MLNS Appointments Dept. Central (Tech. and Scientiﬁc) Register. Chemistry Com. mins. of meeting, 23 November 1942, PRO/Lab6/251; note by MLNS, 1 January 1943, ibid./253; W. Wardlaw minute to Hoyle, 18 December 1951, ibid./ 648. 46. JRB memo for vice chancellors and principals, 26 January 1943, PRO/ Lab6/251; MLNS to Sec., Univ. JRBs, 17 February 1943; ibid./253; MLNS to JRBs, 20 March 1943, ibid./251. 47. H. R. Walters to Col. L.V.W. Clark, War Ofﬁce, 21 May 1943, PRO/Lab6/ 208. 48. Ibid. 49. D. Raphael minute to Brinton, 25 May 1943, PRO/Lab6/208. 50. S. H. Hammis to D. D. Raphael, 23 June 1943, ibid.; Landry to Raphael, 16 October 1943, ibid. 51. Memo from Alexandria House on chemist allocation, 8 October 1943, PRO/Lab6/251. 52. Parker, Manpower, p. 313; see also PRO/Lab6/104, 105, 190, 253, 687. 53. Parker, Manpower, pp. 312–314; Minutes, MLNS meeting to discuss callup, 11 March 1942, PRO/Lab6/190. 54. Quote in minutes of MLNS meeting, 11 March 1942, PRO/Lab6/190. 55. Memo on call-up of students, MLNS, n.d., 1946, PRO/Lab6/280; Memo by MLNS on call-up of students, 1 January 1947, ibid. 56. W. A. Treganowan to Sec., UJRB, 13 January 1948, PRO/Lab6/287; E. V. Eves to Sec., UJRB, 10 March 1949, ibid. 57. Quote in Meeting with committee of vice chancellors at MLNS, 11 December 1945, PRO/Lab6/280. 58. Unsigned history of postwar deferm. arrangements, 1960, PRO/Lab6/685. 59. L. V. Scott, Conscription and the Attlee Governments: The Politics and Policy of National Service 1945–1951 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), for the debate over adoption of the laws of 1947 and 1949. 60. Scott, Conscription, pp. 57–58; Meeting of MLNS, 10 July 1947, PRO/ Lab6/287; Memo by MLNS on call-up of students, 1 January 1947, ibid./280; A. Barlow, chair, to Lord President, 1 March 1946, ibid.; Meeting of MLNS, 10 July 1947, ibid./287; Haskill MLNS to Sec. UJR Bd., 10 February 1949, ibid. 61. “History of the Deferment Arrangements,” 5 March 1960, Caxston House (London), Lab6/691; Unsigned history of postwar deferment arrangements, 1960, PRO/Lab6/685.

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62. Quote in Unsigned history of postwar deferm. arrangements, 1960, PRO/ Lab6/685; Unsigned memo on “History of the Deferment Arrangements,” 5 March 1960, Caxston House, ibid./691. In 1949 less than 100 such grads were given individual deferments for jobs, and 800 called up for service. In 1959, one year before all calls ended, some 600 were called up to do national service, and 3,000 got deferments for special jobs. 63. Memo to JRBs, 1 September 1950, PRO/Lab6/303; War book, 1950, ibid. 64. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 471. 65. Memo MLNS, 1950, PRO/Lab6/301; J. F. Foster to C. B. McAlpine, 25 October 1951, ibid./648; Minute to Mr. Parker, 26 September 1952, ibid./314; Minute from J. J. Bunday to Hine, 4 December 1954, ibid./311; Memo by Min. of Defense, July 1955, PRO/DEFE/13/53; Minute from Shield to Baker, 28 April 1956, ibid./Lab6/304; Meeting with R. G. Thomas, 19 March 1959, ibid./310. 66. Memo by Ministry of Defense, July 1955, PRO/DEFE 13/53; Note by WO on last call-up, 20 October 1959, PRO/Lab6/694; Statement by M. of Labour, Edward Heath, 1959, ibid. 67. Quote in C. S. Sugden to DTA & C, 19 December 1950, PRO/WO32/ 13954; Col. Barber memo, 7 February 1951, ibid.; Minute McAlpine to Haskell, 11 September 1951, PRO/Lab6/318; Ronald Adam, “The Universities and National Service,” Universities Quarterly 5 (November 1950): 50. 68. R. L. Bicknell to Sir Henry Guy, 13 August 1953, PRO/Lab6/319. 69. First quote, O. E 1 memo, 20 July 1955, PRO/Lab6/651; Anon. to Bunday, 8 October 1954, ibid./319; Anon. to J. A. Hunphreys, 23 July 1955, ibid.; Secretary, Southern Regional ofﬁce, MLNS to Mark Baker, 17 October 1955, ibid.; Carriot to MLNS, 30 October 1957; second quote, Minute by W. E. Leopold to J. G. Stewart, 18 June 1955, ibid./651. 70. For a description of the system see George Q. Flynn, The Draft, 1940– 1973 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1993), pp. 58–59; also James W. Davis, Jr., Kenneth M. Dolbeare, Little Group of Neighbors: The Selective Service System (Chicago: Markham, 1968). U.S., Statutes at Large, 54 Stat. 13, 16 September 1940, pp. 888–889. 71. Seymour quoted in New York Times: 8 November 1940, p. 10; 6 December 1940, p. 18; 10 November 1940, p. 25 for NASU quoted; 25, January 1941, p. 8; 16 February 1941, p. 31; 23 February 1941, I, 31, II, 6. 72. George Q. Flynn, “The Draft and College Deferments during the Korean War,” The Historian 50 (May 1988): 369–370. 73. Selective Service, Selective Service in Peacetime: First Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1940–1941 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1942), pp. 191–192. 74. Memo I-99, 12 May 1941, Box 50-medical division, RG 147–97, National Archives, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as NA); Hershey memo for President, 15 July 1941, Box 5, OF 1413, Franklin D. Roosevelt Papers, Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, N.Y. (hereafter cited as FDR). 75. Digest of Signiﬁcant Memos and Correspondence, 1941, ﬁle E37a, vols. 1 and 2, RG 147, NA; New York Times, 31 July 1941, p. 15; Hershey to Gen. Watson, 11 August 1941, Box 1, OF 1413, FDR. 76. Twaddle to Chief of Military History, 5 August 1953, Box 669, RG 319, NA. 77. Raymond Walters, “Facts and Figures of Colleges at War,” Annals of the

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American Academy of Political and Social Science 231 (January 1944): 8–9; New York Times: 28 April 1943, p. 44; 3 January 1943, IV, 7; Local Board survey, 1947, VF 131.1s1, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle, Pa. (hereafter cited as LBH); Mapheus Smith, “The Differential Impact of Selective Service Inductions on Occupations in the United States,” American Sociological Review 11 (October 1946): 572. 78. New York Times, 5 March 1943, p. 19; George F. Zook, “How the Colleges Went to War,” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 23 (January 1944): 6–7. 79. Col. Francis V. Keesling, Jr., to Sam Rosenman, 7 February 1944, Box 8, OF 1413D, FDR; Selective Service, Selective Service as the Tide of War Turns: 3rd Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1943–1944 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1945), pp. 79–80; Patterson to Hershey, 12 February 1944, WMC ﬁle, Box 183, Patterson Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as LC); Stimson to President, 4 March 1944, Box 3, OF 1413, FDR. 80. Charles L. Parsons to President, 14 March 1944, Box 7, OF 1413, FDR; Frank B. Jewitt to President, 22 March 1944, ibid.; FDR to Parsons, 18 March 1944, ibid. 81. See Flynn, “The Draft,” pp. 369–385. 82. Vannevar Bush to Truman, 16 August 1945, OF 53, Box 266, Harry S. Truman Library, Independence, Mo. (hereafter cited as HST). 83. Donald R. McCoy, The Presidency of Harry S. Truman (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1984), p. 118; Matthew J. Connelly notes, cabinet minutes, 17 August 1945, Connelly Papers, HST. 84. Patterson to Hershey, 10 October 1945, OF 245, Box 844, HST. 85. Brien McMahon to Truman, 17 October 1945, Truman to McMahon, 18 October 1945, William D. Hassett to John R. Hutchinson, 4 January 1946, all in OF 245, Box 852, HST. 86. Howard Meyerhoff to Truman, 4 January 1946, OF 245, Box 845, HST; Hassett to Meyerhoff, 28 January 1946, ibid. 87. V. Bush, Science: The Endless Frontier (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1945), pp. 23–27; James M. Gerhardt, The Draft and Public Policy (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1971), pp. 115–117. 88. George Q. Flynn, Lewis B. Hershey, Mr. Selective Service (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985), pp. 195–96; Scientiﬁc Advisory Committee minutes [SAC minutes], 9–10 December 1948, VF 324S2, LBH; quote in M. H. Trytten, Student Deferment in Selective Service (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota 1952), p. 35. 89. SAC minutes, VF 324S2 114 LBH. 90. Ibid., 132. 91. Herman Wells to Truman, 22 December 1948, VF 314A, LBH; Ralph E. Cleland to Truman and Walter C. Kraatz to Steelman, 5 January 1949; Steelman to Kraatz, 4 February 1949; Hershey to Truman, 3 March 1949, all in OF 245, Box 845, HST. 92. Samuel P. Huntington, The Common Defense: Strategic Programs in National Politics (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), p. 54; Gerhardt, Draft, p. 148. For the numerous complaints reservists and National Guardsmen made, see Ent. 56 and 66, Box 11, Record Group [RG] 330, NA.

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93. Victory to Hershey, 27 July 1950, VF 324N, LBH. 94. See Trytten, Student Deferment, pp. 82–83. 95. Science Advisory Committee (SAC) minutes, 18 December 1950, in LBH. 96. Trytten, Student Deferment, p. 56; National Manpower Council, Student Deferment and National Manpower Policy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1952), pp. 47, 71. 97. Engineer Joint Council Newsletter, 24 April 1951, p. 4; Trytten, Student Deferment, pp. 64, 68, 70, 76; Operation Bulletins 28, 30 March 1951; Selective Service news release, 24 May 1951, VF314.1, LBH; speech by D. Omer, 26 April 1951, VF314055, LBH; National Manpower Council, Student Deferment, pp. 59, 63. 98. George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion, 1935–1971, 3 vols. (New York: Random House, 1972), II: 960–961, 973; National Manpower Council, Student Deferment, 93. 99. R and S Memo, 25 January 1952, VF 314Sllc, LBH; Trytten, Student Deferment, p. 50; William Green to Truman, 18 March 1952, OF 245, Box 852, HST. 100. Trytten, Student Deferment, pp. 128, 131; Selective Service (newsletter), May 1952, 2; press release, 27 June 1952, OF 440, Box 1288, HST. 101. National Manpower Council, Student Deferment, pp. 42, 44, 46; Trytten, Student Deferment, p. 54. Albert D. Klassen Jr., Military Service in American Life since World War II: An Overview, NORC Report 117 (Chicago: NORC/University of Chicago, 1966), p. 94. 102. Stuart H. Altman & R. J. Barro, “Model of Ofﬁcer Supply under Draft and No Draft Conditions,” Studies, PCAVAF, NA, p. 661; Mordechai Land, “Health Services in the All-Volunteer Armed Force,” ibid., p. 41. See also Klassen, Military Service, pp. 54–55. 103. Student deferments from 1952 to 1963 remained fairly constant as a percentage of all registrants. It was less than 3 percent until late 1963 when it began to climb and reached a high of 10.4 percent in December 1965. The totals in the 1950s averaged about 200,000 annually but rose to 382,037 in 1963 and to more than 1,660,000 by 1964. See Selective Service Research and Statistics Memo, 30 November 1965, Selective Service File, Lyndon B. Johnson Papers, Johnson Library, Austin, Tex. (hereafter cited as LBJ). 104. U.S. Congress, Senate, Committee on Appropriations, Hearings on Independent Ofﬁce Appropriations, 89th Cong., 2nd sess., 25 May 1966, p. 1205; “Students and Their Deferment,” The Saturday Review 49 (19 November 1966): 92; Hershey to Meyerhoff, 19 December 1966, alpha ﬁle, LBH; Local board opinions, Box 1, NACSS, RG 220, NA. 105. Beaty report, NACSS proceedings, n.d., Box 89, NACSS, RG 220. 106. Hershey to W. H. Rommel, 22 November 1966, Cong. ﬁle, LBH; New York Times, 6 May 1967; Melvin Small, Johnson, Nixon, and the Doves (New Brunswick, NJ.: Rutgers University Press, 1988), p. 84; Hershey to Meyerhoff, 8 December 1968, alpha ﬁle, LBH; John C. Esty, Jr., “The Future of the Draft,” The Nation, 12 September 1966, p. 209; “Students and Their Deferment,” The Nation, 19 November 1966, p. 92. 107. Kurt Lang, “Service Inequality,” Society 18(3) (1981): 41; Michael Useem, Conscription, Protest, and Social Conﬂict: The Life and Death of a Draft Resistance Movement (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1973), p. 95; Dee Ingold, “Discussion:

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The Present System of Selective Service,” in Sol Tax, ed., The Draft: A Handbook of Facts and Alternatives (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967), pp. 302– 305; Edward B. Glick, “The Draft and Nonmilitary National Service,” Military Review 49(12) (1969): 87 David S. Surrey, Choice of Conscience: Vietnam Era Military and Draft Resisters in Canada (New York: Praeger, 1982), p. 42, says reforms led to the great educational cross section, but compare these ﬁgures with the all-volunteer army that in early 1980 had only 3 percent enlistees with some college education. 108. John O’Sullivan questionnaires, 13 November 1974, Papers of Gilbert Hershey, Jacksonville, N.C. (private); U.S. Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on Employment, Hearings on Manpower Implications of Selective Service, 90th Cong., 1st sess., 23 March 1967, pp. 117, 119, 153–154, 180, 228. 109. Harry A. Marmion, Selective Service: Conﬂict and Compromise (New York: Wiley, 1968), pp. 128–130; Califano for President, 22 May 1967, Ex le/ma, cont. 140, LBJ; Mike Manatos for Barefoot Sanders, 25 May 1967, ibid.; Reedy to President, 16 May 1967, whcf nd 9–4, ct. 148, ibid. 110. Cyrus Vance to Califano, 24 May 1967, Ex le/ma, ct. 140, LBJ; Califano for President, 12 June 1967, ibid.; Califano for President, 28 June 1967, whcf, nd 9–4, ct. 148, ibid. 111. Kissinger to Dir., SS, et al., 8 October 1969, National Security Study Memo 78, 8 October 1969, Anderson ﬁle, Box 39, WHCF, Richard M. Nixon Papers, Alexandria, Va. (hereafter cited as RMN). See S. Enke to Anderson et al., 6 October 1969, ibid., Box 25, RMN. 112. Hershey to President, 1 December 1969, Dee Ingold Papers (private); NSC staff study on draft reform, 22 January 1970, Anderson ﬁle, Box 38, WHCF, RMN. 113. Kissinger for Nixon, 25 March 1970, Anderson ﬁle, Box 39, WHCF, RMN; Unsigned chart in ﬁle, VAF, 16 March 1970, ibid., Box 37; Nixon to Congress, 23 April 1970, ibid., Box 39. As a result of Nixon’s action, as of 23 April 1970 deferments ended for occupational, agricultural, and paternity reasons. The order also extended II-A deferment status to students in approved junior, community, or apprentice schools. At the time of the order there were about 450,000 men in II-A, 22,000 in II-C, and 4.5 million in III-A. See Local Board memo, 105, 23 April 1970, LBJ; Press conference, Curtis Tarr, 23 April 1970, Anderson ﬁle, Box 40, WHCF, RMN. 114. See Flynn, Draft, pp. 257–258.

Chapter 8

Fit to Fight Falling ill in foreign climes frightens people. Such fear is well founded. Studies reveal that the “art” of medicine is practiced in different ways in different cultures—indeed, even within different American states.1 Variation appears not merely in treatment but in deﬁning what it means to be ill or healthy. Given such discrepancy, anyone trying to compare national medical standards faces a formidable task. The problem becomes more manageable when the standards and exams being compared are designed to achieve the same goal, ﬁnding ﬁghting men. Perhaps the most momentous exam facing an 18-year-old male in the 20th century was the one that passed on whether he was ﬁt or unﬁt to ﬁght for his country. The three Western democracies and Allies—France, Britain, and the United States—made this decisions for millions of their citizens. Comparing how these nations evaluated their youth as ﬁt to ﬁght offers an opportunity to observe how health standards and deﬁnitions shift within cultural and historical contexts. As health and illness are largely subjective categories, the same is true of ﬁt and unﬁt. The standards used to establish ﬁtness to serve were subject to many variables and ﬂuctuated not just among nations but over time, although not as much as one might assume.2 The most powerful common variable affecting ﬁtness was age. As the age of the draftee rose, the rate of rejection rose in direct proportion. In the United States and France rejection rates were also inﬂuenced by geography. In America the New England states, the West, and Far West provided the highest percentage of healthy men, and the South had the highest rate of rejection. In a sample of 20,000, rural draftees in mid-1941 were accepted at a 61.9 percent rate as opposed to 57.6 percent for urban areas.3 Race and education also had

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Table 8.1 Life Expectancy at Birth, Males4

Table 8.2 Death Rates, 1901–1961 (annual average per 1,000 inhabitants)5

an impact, with African Americans suffering higher rejection rates than whites and, in all countries, the uneducated more than the educated.6 There is a problem in relating rejection rates of young males to the health of an entire nation. In the United States this issue provoked serious debate during World War II. The American medical establishment, represented by the American Medical Association (AMA), was at pains to dispute any extrapolation from draft exams. One spokesman even insisted that a 50 percent rejection rate “is by no means disgraceful, or even discouraging.”7 These physicians wished to forestall any cry for national health programs during peacetime. The Metropolitan Life Insurance Company also insisted that the rejection rate did not “in any way support assertions that there has been deterioration in our national health.”8 These people insisted that the rate was due to an unreasonably high standard imposed by the armed forces and to the high illiteracy rejection rate.9 While such assertions had some merit, the average citizen probably agreed with President Kennedy, who in December 1961 called for a program of national ﬁtness. General Lewis Hershey, director of Selective Service, had reported to the president that since October 1948 over 6 million American boys had been examined for induction and more than a million had been rejected as physically unﬁt.10 When one considers that these rejections came only from young males (ages 18 to 27), the gross ﬁgures should indicate something about the health of the nation. Such data can supplement a comparison of life expectancy and mortality rates for males in the three nations (see Tables 8.1–8.6).

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Table 8.3 Life Expectancy in Years, Male, United States Only11

Table 8.4 Death Rate, Males Only per 1,000 of Population, United States Only12

In the years 1900 to 1970 France had a mortality rate of 16.64 percent. For England and the United States the ﬁgures are 13.15 percent and 11.65 percent, respectively. Studies also show that French males died earlier than British males, who lived more than three years longer.13 The higher mortality rates for France are related to several factors. France suffered a very high death rate in World War I (10.5 percent of active male population), but other inﬂuences were also at work. Alcohol consumption in France was very high during the ﬁrst half of the 20th century. In 1937 there was one bar for every 81 citizens of all ages and sex, compared to one for 425 in England. From 1920 to 1940 the average adult in France consumed 250 liters of wine each year. Those over 20 were putting it down at the rate of 1 to 4 liters a day.14 Another variable worth noting is the attitude toward exercise by youth.

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Table 8.5 Age Distribution in Selected Years, France and Great Britain15

While the Anglo-Saxon tradition of organized sports in school prevailed in both England and the United States, the average French pupil had little organized games sponsored by his school. The rigorous intellectual curriculum offered scant time for such diversions, and the notion of training the whole man found little favor. The lack of exercise probably contributed to a rejection rate that grew in the 20th century. In World War I the turning out of soldiers for physical reasons in both French and German armies was comparable (26 percent). But by 1938 only 17 percent of German recruits were rejected, while 33 percent of French youth had the same experience. The poor condition of French prisoners of war (POWs) in World War II drew remarks from their captors.16 Although the health of the base population differed in each country, the procedure established to process youth into the military was basically the same. All youth called to service were subjected to medical and mental aptitude exams. Individuals were classiﬁed in a hierarchy of groups according to the ability to serve. All countries established special medical advisory committees to handle troublesome cases. Every nation made an attempt to ensure that each branch of the armed forces received a fair proportion of the highest qualiﬁed youth. Rejectees were always reexamined for possible rehabilitation. Although the standards of acceptability in each country changed to ﬁt the needs of the moment, there was some consistency. During wartime, standards dropped, and during peacetime standards rose, but less so in France than the United States and Great Britain. Despite general similarities, key differences appeared. European countries imposed more central control over the examination process than did the United States. The French system, in particular, relied more on the military

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Table 8.6 Evolution of French Population by Age Groups (percent)17

to provide the exam. In the United States and Great Britain, the civilian medical profession had more responsibility, following national guidelines.18 The procedures for screening inductees also varied. In the United States during World War II, the local draft board initially administered a complete exam. If the man was accepted and sent forward to the armed forces, he faced another exam, which might lead to his return to the local board as unﬁt. This caused problems, and after Pearl Harbor the local board conducted only a cursory exam and rejected only manifestly unqualiﬁed men. By 1944 physicians examined men at local boards only upon request.19 The British system depended on a thorough medical exam at the local level administered by a board of physicians appointed by the Ministry of Labour and National Service. After giving a man the grade of ﬁt or unﬁt, later reﬁned by a more detailed assessment, the board’s job was over. The War Ofﬁce then assumed responsibility for posting him to a unit, where a medical military ofﬁcer examined him.20 The French procedure was the most elaborate. Before World War II a French youth was examined when he was enrolled in his local town. The “Conseil de re´vision” included a military physician who passed upon the candidate’s ﬁtness. Later France developed selection centers across the country with the job of examining and orienting future recruits before they were enrolled. By 1954 these centers were examining a total of 250,000 to 300,000 youth each year. Young Frenchmen now had to pass three different screens: the Conseil de re´vision when ﬁrst registered, the selection center, and another exam at the time of enrollment in the service.21 The details of the examination were spelled out in precise terms by the French government, even to the temperature of the examining room. Like the British and the Americans, the French tested both mental and physical capacity. The elaborate dossier prepared for each candidate was then sent to the Service du Recrutement, which used the information in making a military assignment. The time required for this examination decreased from three days in the 1940s to seven hours in 1990. By the 1990s the French

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had developed a computerized cabin to test the aptitude of conscripts, but the verdict on “Espace” was still out.22 The exam itself varied with circumstance as well as nation. During World War II men were frequently examined in groups. In the United States studies showed that both the candidate and the examining physician were anxious to achieve a passing score. The men saw a pass as an afﬁrmation of manhood, while the physicians assumed the patriotic duty of moving men along. Draft ofﬁcials, who were anxious to ﬁll quotas, resented physicians who sought the “perfect man.” Such procedures led to a high washout rate during the early stages of World War II, especially for psychological causes. By the 1960s the Armed Forces Examination Stations were highly sophisticated centers with specialists administering a variety of tests to the candidates. The old days of just “turn your head and cough” were gone.23 The British exam also underwent dramatic changes. During World War II a medical board for a region sat for two and one-half hours to examine 20 men. If a special problem arose the man could be referred to a board of specialists or a hospital. This system of referral also existed in the French system. But in Britain, even during wartime, each man was examined by four different physicians who concentrated on different areas. By the Korean conﬂict the rate of examination remained the same—20 in 150 minutes—but diagnostic skills had improved. Rather than just checking hearing, the board now removed wax from the ears before the test, which led to a “major improvement” in hearing scores.24 All three nations created an elaborate review system to check on suspicious candidates and to reexamine marginal ones. If a man required more detailed diagnosis, he was sent to a hospital or to a special medical board for more study. If a man disagreed with his initial rating, whether ﬁt or unﬁt, he was given an opportunity to appeal the decision. At this time he could present witnesses or documentation. The French required that idiocy or imbecility be authenticated by documents delivered by the prefect, accompanied by a medical certiﬁcate or some notarized ofﬁcial document.25 In both the United States and France the local examination seems to have been the most liberal in passing men. Local draft boards in America during 1941, before Pearl Harbor, found 68 percent of the draftees ﬁt, but military induction stations turned back some 13 percent of this group. Eventually 60 out of every 100 passed by the local board exam donned a uniform. Similarly in France, after World War II, the Conseil de re´vision was more aggressive than the selection centers. Some 3.5 percent of the youth in the 1959 class and 2.8 percent in the 1960 class who passed at the local level were later rejected by the selection centers. In both countries disagreements occurred in diagnosis, with the local examiners being more tolerant than those at the next stage.26 In Britain during World War II there was no legal provision for an appeal against a medical board grade. Unofﬁcially, a system of appeals developed

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anyway, and if a regional medical ofﬁcer found reason, he could order a reexamination. Information on medical defects was considered conﬁdential and not shared with the draftee, although it could be passed on to his personal physician.27 Inevitably the screening process varied with the times and with the region. At certain periods of World War II in both the United States and Britain the local boards held only cursory exams of candidates, in some cases not even having them undress. Dr. Edith Summerskill, an MP (Members of Parliament), claimed in 1939 that “chronic invalides [sic]” were being accepted. Soon complaints arose from the military that had to wash out useless men. There was also the political fear of a heavy pension bill after the war for marginal men who could have been screened out merely by rigorous calisthenics. But politicians claimed that it was better to be liberal to fulﬁll the universal claim of the conscript laws.28 During World War II grading schemes were established to manage exam results. The United States put the unﬁt into category IV-F, then distinguished the type of physical or mental problem. The British wartime scheme involved four categories: Grade I included men totally ﬁt or with minor problems that were easily remedied. Grade II included men suffering from some disability but no progressive organic disease, with fair hearing and vision and the ability to undergo average physical exertion. Grade III included men with marked physical disabilities or marks from past disease that prevented exertion at Grade II level. Grade IV covered men with progressive organic disease who were permanently incapable of any form of service.29 The French selection centers put men in one of three categories— ﬁt, delayed, or exempt. Those delayed were ﬁt with qualiﬁcations and put in a military hospital upon enrollment. The Conseil de re´vision had only two categories, ﬁt or excused.30 In the postwar world both the United States and Britain adopted a proﬁle represented by the acronym PULHEEMS. The letters represented the following medical characteristics: P ⫽ physical capacity; U ⫽ upper limbs; L ⫽ locomotion; H ⫽ hearing; EE ⫽ eyes; M ⫽ mental; S ⫽ stability. Within each category the recruit, after a physical and battery of tests, was rated 1 to 4, with 1 the highest and 4 the lowest and below the minimum for service. Proﬁling began in the United States in May 1944 but not until June 1948 in Britain, where intelligence testing started only in February 1950.31 The French selection centers in the 1950s used the acronym EVASIFX ⫽ E ⫽ general health; V ⫽ vision; A ⫽ hearing; S ⫽ superior limbs; I ⫽ inferior limbs; F ⫽ intelligence faculties; X ⫽ emotional stability. The range of grades was from 1 (excellent) to 5 (deﬁnite rejection). In 1970 a new acronym was adopted: SIGYCOP. The letters represented as follows: S ⫽ superior members; I ⫽ inferior members; G ⫽ general state; Y ⫽ vision; C ⫽ color sense; O ⫽ hearing; P ⫽ mental. The range remained the same.32 Whatever the ofﬁcial proﬁle and standard, the real standard for accep-

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tance was always at the mercy of the historical context. Induction standards varied for military and political reasons. During wartime the standard dropped to accommodate battle needs. During demobilization it stayed down to ensure enough replacements for the boys who fought. In peacetime the military sought to raise the standard because of the need to staff more technical weapons systems. Politicians sought to lower the standard to ensure the universality of conscription and to provide rehabilitation for weaker members of society. In the United States the standard for acceptance went up and down. In the early part of the draft, before the Pearl Harbor attack, the military hoped to select only the most ﬁt. But the high rejection rate prompted the medical establishment and politicians to complain that American rejectees would be accepted in Germany or other armies. This pressure and the need for more and more troops led to a general decline in standards across the board. Men with venereal disease (VD) were rejected in the early years, but in 1943 they went into the service. By February 1944 a physicians committee on induction standards concluded that any further reduction of standards would impair ﬁghting efﬁciency. Indeed, the ground forces continued to suffer from a shortage of fully qualiﬁed men.33 After the peace treaties were signed Congress imposed defense cuts, which led the military to unofﬁcially raise the standards. The 1948 draft law raised the Armed Forces Qualiﬁcation Test (AFQT) passing grade to the 13th percentile. During the Korean conﬂict mobilization the surgeon general of the army ordered a tightening of standards because many men had to be discharged shortly after induction. But Congress, in passing the Korean War draft of 1951, required that the standards should not be higher than what applied to those inducted in January 1945 and reduced the passing grade of the AFQT. By 1952 the standard was lower than during World War II. After the Korean armistice, however, standards began to rise again. President Eisenhower sponsored a bill in 1958 that allowed him to raise standards to meet new technical requirements.34 The British also struggled with standards. The low standards that prevailed during World War II were retained after the war even with a surplus of national servicemen. Pressure to keep a low standard and even use marginally unﬁt men came from the desire to ﬁnd replacements for the boys who had fought the war. But with the adoption of the PULHEEMS system in 1948 there was more culling of inferior types. During the Korean War the standard dropped again, and category III men were taken for the ﬁrst time since 1945.35 The French kept their standards for induction fairly low and consistent during the postwar period. The draft aspired to universality to satisfy both ideology and public opinion. In 1954, to avoid the aging of the contingent (a man now had to wait over a year from registration to induction) the Ministry of Defense decided to raise the standard, thereby improving the

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quality of the induction and reducing the eligible pool. The reduction of eligibles made it easier to call men earlier.36 The Vietnam mobilization directly affected American standards in the 1960s. Senators, such as Gaylord Nelson, complained that the high physical standard prevented the military from relieving serious social ills. A Gallup poll of 19 September 1965 found 83 percent in favor of “requiring all physically ﬁt young men who cannot pass an educational test to serve for at least one year in some other form of military service, such as in work battalions.” The Department of Defense admitted that under 1964 standards 33 percent of all men examined were unqualiﬁed, compared to only 24 percent during the Korean War. Nelson and General Hershey called for a movable standard that made use of men with less-than-perfect skills.37 The rise of combat once again exerted downward pressure on standards. Although not confronted with combat, the French faced a similar political crisis over standards in the late 1980s. The needs of the armed forces had fallen, and the rejection rate was 22 percent at selection centers. This rejection rate, together with newly created civilian forms of service, made a mockery of the claim to universality of “service nationale.” A biting indictment of the system was published by Parliamentarian Guy-Michel Chauveau. Echoing Hershey in the United States, Chauveau called for a more ﬂexible standard to make use of what a young man had to offer. In response to this pressure, the standard was reduced in July 1990, dropping the rejection rate to 18 percent.38 Another problem shared by all three nations involved difﬁculties in measuring and screening for the nonphysical characteristics of a draftee. Such factors grew in importance with the increased turmoil and tension of modern battle. Mental illness itself was a new ﬁeld with considerable confusion over nomenclature and clinical signs.39 Given that psychological or psychiatric defects were difﬁcult to establish in the absence of rigorous analysis, and given that mobilization made it impossible to submit each recruit to professional evaluation, problems were bound to arise. The dilemma related to the difﬁculty in diagnosing mental problems at the time of induction. Beyond public prejudice against psychiatry and psychology as sciences, neither the local boards nor military induction centers could spare the time needed to give proper analysis to the candidates. Some illnesses, such as manic depression, required extensive case histories and even hospital observation. Even problems of emotional maturity and distinguishing between simple dullness and a clinical disease proved beyond the rudimentary conscription screen used until the 1960s.40 Yet such screening had important implications for society and the armed forces. Consider the problem of deciding the level of intelligence needed to serve in the armed forces. Throughout World War II and afterward, studies showed that in the competition for quality personnel the army invariably ended up with those draftees who had low mental scores or even mental

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illness.41 Since it was the army that bore the brunt of casualties, such an assignment policy had wide social implications. In the United States raising or lowering the intelligence bar also had a dramatic effect on the racial composition of eligibles. If the standard was too high, southern politicians complained that black Americans were being left at home while white boys fought. In Britain the attitude was not dissimilar but the terms more genteel, such as the danger of putting “a disproportionately heavy share of the national burden on the ‘intelligent classes of the community.’ ”42 In the long run, using low achievers in the forces, even to spare the brilliant, could prove costly. In the British army such men were limited to certain pioneer duties, receiving full pay for less than full-service duty. In both the United States and Britain drafting men with mental problems invariably led to a huge pension bill. One study showed that 89 percent of discharged servicemen from World War II who were receiving pensions and treatment as “neuropsychiatrics” never saw overseas duty.43 The armed forces in World War II were aware of the need to keep out men with emotional and intelligence problems. Both the United States and Great Britain created special advisory boards of psychiatrists to assist examining boards. Whenever there was a question in this area, local physicians were urged to refer the matter to a psychiatrist or group of psychiatrists in the area. To enhance awareness of the diagnostic problems, regional seminars were held under the direction of leaders of the profession. Unfortunately, in both countries the seminars proved a failure and were soon discontinued.44 During World War II, and until the introduction of more rigorous test batteries in 1948, the local examining committee had to make do with an ad hoc approach. Local ofﬁcials were encouraged to use all the background information possible, from schools and other social agencies. But their evaluations were guided by jejune suggestions from professionals on signs of mental problems. Consider the following list of signs: chronic indigestion, gastritis, morbid fears such as claustrophobia, fussiness about health, picky about food, insomnia, excessive worry, general nervousness, bad work record, sensitive scalp, fear of premature baldness, oddly shaped nose or ears, and acne scars. Examiners were alerted to ask if “he associated a bad complexion with masturbation.” Given this level of analysis, just about any problem could be interpreted as a sign of mental disease.45 By 1948 the screening had taken on a more rigorous character, thanks to the introduction of a battery of written tests devised by psychologists. In Britain, the initial results were disappointing because the tests were administered by service personnel only after the man had been inducted, but reforms soon emerged. In both the United States and Britain the PULHEEMS tests at the induction centers were as good a diagnostic screen on intelligence as available in civilian agencies.46 The French also began using a battery of intelligence tests after the war.

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With the SIGYCOP system offering more precise results, psychiatric evaluation generated half of the exemptions. By the 1950s a man took 14 tests, 8 on aptitude, 2 on general knowledge, and 4 on professional or particular aptitude. By 1990 France had gone a step further and introduced an automated system, called ESPACE. The candidate entered a soundproof booth with a video screen and instruments. Questions appeared and he reacted to them with hands, ﬁngers, pedals, mind. His behavior was ﬁlmed during the process.47 Of course, no test or interview could predict how a man would react to actual military service. Seemingly healthy and adjusted young men might panic in the barracks and be discharged as mentally unsuited. The case of Yves Saint-Laurent illustrates the problem. He was called to do military service in 1964 at age 24. With a combination of poor vision, excitability, and homosexuality, this heir-apparent to Christian Dior lasted three weeks in the army. Rather than being integrated into the larger community of French citizens, he ended up in a bed at Val-de-Grave, a mental hospital in Paris. After being treated with drugs and electric shock, he retained a permanent slur in his speech.48 All three countries faced the same problem of ﬁnding suitable men for their armed forces, and all three sought to minimize the rejection rate. In comparing rejection rates, one must note several distorting factors. The standards were not the same for all countries at the same times. As noted above, during World War II, standards in the United States and Britain were lower than afterward. The French standard for the period 1955 to 1964, during the conﬂict in Algeria, was higher than the preceding years.49 Also, in all three countries the medical rejection rate distorted the general health of this male cohort in the population. The men who went through the examination process were the remainder after those with educational, apprentice, and other special deferments had been culled out. At the other extreme, men with low mental levels had also been cut earlier.50 Despite the problems, Table 8.7 shows that the United States was much more liberal with physical and mental rejections than either Britain or France. In seeking explanations for these physical failures, all three countries engaged in extensive studies. The French found that in the period from 1950 to 1993 around one-third of the rejections sprang from mental causes.51 More than one-third were marked with a deﬁciency in general health, which might mean anything from immaturity to obesity. As with the United States and Britain, the French age variable was important, with rejections going up in direct proportion to maturation. Again like the United States, the French found educational and geographical variables at work. The rate of rejection was much higher at low scholarly levels, with 64 percent of nonscholar youth exempted as opposed to only 14.72 percent of youth with a diploma-type DEA (Diploˆme d’e´tude approfondie) or en-

Table 8.7 U.S., British, and French Military Rejection Rates, 1938–1985 (in percent)52

1

For United States, ﬁgure is percentage of those examined. Britain rejected those in categories 3 and 4; France rejected only those in category 4. 3 H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), p. 495, says 16.7 percent were found unﬁt in categories 3 and 4. 4 October 1940 to Pearl Harbor. 5 Regard, SIRPA, 1994, says rejection rate for physical reasons averaged 13 to 14 percent from 1920 to 1965. See also SIRPA, National Service doss. 1, 14 March 1994, p. 53. 6 For an explanation of this high ﬁgure see Director, Selective Service System, Selective Service under the 1948 Act (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1951), pp. 82–83. 2

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gineer. From 1955 to 1963 a sharp difference existed between the Northeast and the Southwest, similar to the difference in the United States between the Northeast and Southeast. In France, the further away from Germany, the more rejections occurred. Toulouse had the highest rejection rate among cities, and Lille, the least.53 Similar patterns emerged in the United States and Britain. In the United States neurological problems took third place among rejections, preceded by musculoskeletal and then cardiovascular problems. The South produced the highest percentage of rejectees, while the Mountain states produced the least. The British, like the French and Americans, found the age variable most potent in explaining rejections, with only 9 percent under age 20 and 35 percent over age 36 being rejected in World War II.54 All three countries made an effort to recover these losses. Perhaps the most consistent tactic was to induce the armed forces to adopt a sliding standard for acceptance. The military generally resisted. The British army consistently complained at being stuck with marginals, useful only in pioneer battalions, whose numbers reduced the strength levels of regular troops. In the United States General Hershey continued to hammer away at the need for a sliding scale during the 1960s but met strong resistance from the Department of Defense.55 When the French system was reviewed in the late 1980s a similar plea emerged. With over 33 percent of draftees in the air force serving in administrative and support jobs, high physical standards seemed unnecessary.56 All three systems also incorporated a routine of calling rejectees back for reexamination after an interval. This tactic was common during World War II for both the United States and Britain. While of limited usefulness in the United States, it was more effective in Britain. At the end of 1941 the British opened physical development centers to treat rejectees with remediable problems such as obesity. Some 80 percent of men processed could be upgraded to a higher category of ﬁtness. For example, 2,800 men treated for neurosis were recommended to the services after treatment in special hospitals, with 70 percent found capable of duty.57 In the United States President Roosevelt ordered a rehabilitation effort before Pearl Harbor. The Selective Service System ran pilot programs in several states, but the returns were marginal. With the entry of the nation into war on 7 December 1941, such efforts ceased. Not until the 1960s did another major rehabilitation effort begin. Under the inspiration of several congressmen, including Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan of New York, the idea emerged that the draft could be used as a supplement to the Great Society by providing training to marginal youth. Secretary of War Robert McNamara offered a program called Project 100,000, which was supposed to induct many youth who normally would be rejected for low scores on the test battery. The program soon ran afoul of Congress, which was suspicious of social programs run by the military. The coup de graˆce was

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administered by black leadership organizations. As casualty rates rose in Vietnam, the program looked suspiciously like an attempt to substitute poor blacks for middle-class whites.58 The French adopted rehabilitation in the 1980s to cope with a growing unemployment rate among youth and a disturbing illiteracy problem. Historically, the French registration class had revealed a large group of uneducated youth. In 1921 some 41.08 percent of the class was classiﬁed as barely literate, and the next highest group, with only some primary education, made up another 45.67 percent.59 As late as 1970 some 63 percent of the youth registered fell below the level of the Certiﬁcat d’Etudes Primaires (C.E.P.). In 1987 some 9,570 illiterates were drafted. By 1989 the Ministry of Defense began planning action against illiteracy. Each year the military enrolled 10,000 illiterates while exempting another 20,000. A “Groupe permanent lutte illittrisme” (GPLI) was established at selection centers in May 1990. In 1993, of the 65,100 youth taking tests in selection centers, 7,965 had no familiarity with a sense of words, and another 45,000 had comprehension of only simple words and phrases.60 The GPLI effort made some headway. Literacy training in units worked to raise recruits to a minimum of level 4 to 7 (comprehension of simple words and phrases).61 But problems soon arose. Military training camps, with free time at a minimum and crowded living conditions, were hardly ideal places for self-improvement courses. There was also a shortage of proper instructors. The general results seemed modest. In one correspondence course, 143 enrolled, but only 43 took the exams, and only 8 candidates presented themselves for diploma, of which 2 were granted. Only 37 men succeeded out of 4,399 initially enrolled in such a course in 1987.62 Despite this mediocre performance, Minister of Defense Franc¸ois Leotard, under a new Conservative government in 1994, put forth a plan to expand the program. At this time France was suffering from double-digit unemployment. The government hoped to use the military to train young men for jobs in exchange for lengthening their tour of service by 6 to 12 months. This proposal met with widespread derision in the press. JeanMarie Le Pen, leader of an ultranationalist party, made fun of the attempt by the government to use the military as a jobs corps. According to Pen, this solution pointed to the bankruptcy of the education system in France and of the government, which was “doing a dance of wind before the young voters.”63 As in the United States, attempts to use military conscription for general social rehabilitation proved a failure. The public might accept the notion of rehabilitating youth if the nation faced danger, but when military service became indistinguishable from civilian task, credibility for the system collapsed. In the United States this happened in the late 1960s. In France, conscription ended in 1997.

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NOTES 1. See Lynn Payer, Medicine & Culture: Varieties of Treatment in the United States, England, West Germany, and France (New York: Henry Holt, 1988). 2. In the United States the standards were controlled by a law after World War II. See Lewis B. Hershey, “The Inside Story on Rejection Rates,” Journal of the American Association for Health, Physical Education, and Recreation (1 January 1953): 9, 26. In Britain and France the standard could be varied by the Defense Ministry. 3. Lee Kennett, G.I.: The American Soldier in World War II (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1987), p. 26; Rowntree speech, 23 Sept 1941, VF 434R88/ 7, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle, Pa. (hereafter cited as LBH); Medical Div. History, SSS, 1941, RG 147–97, Box 50, National Archives, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as NA). For France, see below. 4. Bernard Mueller, A Statistical Handbook of the North Atlantic Area (New York: Twentieth Century Fund, 1965), p. 22. 5. Ibid., p. 20. 6. Study by Research Div. National Ed. Ass., 1 March 1948, LBH, VF 270S. 7. Quote in W. W. Bauer, “An Interpretation of Draft Rejection Figures,” Pennsylvania Medical Journal 46 (6 October 1942): 205. 8. Ibid., p. 205. 9. Washington Daily News, 13 June 1952. 10. Kennedy speech, 5 December 1961, Box 64, 1, NA, RG 147–97. 11. U.S. Department of Commerce, Historical Statistics of the United States: Colonial Times to 1970, 2 pts. (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1975), I: 55. 12. Ibid., I: 59; George Alter & James C. Riley, “Frailty, Sickness and Death: Models of Morbidity and Mortality in Historical Populations,” Population Studies 43 (1989): 25–45. 13. Eugen J. Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930’s (New York: Norton, 1994), p. 70. 14. Ibid., p. 71. 15. Maurice Larkin, France since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936–1986 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), app. II, p. 385. 16. Jean-Louis Gay-Lescot, Cahiers de l’Institut d’histoire du temps present, 1918–1940 (Paris: Centre nationale de la recherche science, June 1988), pp. 55–6; Weber, Hollow, p. 281. 17. Jacques Dupaˆquier, Histoire de la population franc¸aise, vol. 4: De 1914 a` nos jours (Paris: Presses Universitaires de Franc¸ais, 1988), 4: 349. 18. Robert A. Bier, “The Selective Service System and the Practice of Medicine,” Lancet 62 (January 1942): 15; Memo ML 1/m.1579/6/1960, Lab6, 687, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO); H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), p. 152; Minute, 26 September 1953, MLNS, PRO/Lab6/144; George Q. Flynn, “American Medicine and Selective Service in World War II,” Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 42 (July 1987): 305–326; 2 & 3 Geo., RA fact39, 26 May 1939, p. 165; Report by Comite´ de l’arme´e, MM. Miellet, 2 June 1938, Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV), 6n399-

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doss-3; Memo, 26 March 1948, ibid., SCdR, 24t1EMAT, p. 2; E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre, Le Service national (e´dition me´thodique) (Paris: Ministe`re des Arme´es 1968) (hereafter cited as BO,SN), 26 May 1966, pp. 59–60, 68, 73; ibid., 1 June 1968, p. 73. 19. Mapheus Smith, L. T. Reynolds, & M. E. Hand, “Tuberculosis among Selective Service Registrants,” American Review of Tuberculosis 60 (December 1949): 775; Robert A. Bier, “The Preliminary Physical Examination in Selective Service,” Kentucky Medical Journal (1 October 1942): 1. 20. Memo, MLNS, 20 October 1953, PRO/WO32/13778. 21. Maurice de Montmollin, “Le Niveau intellectuel des recrues du contingent,” Population 13 (1958): 260; Claude Vimont & Jacques Baudot, “Les Causes d’inaptitude au service militaire,” Population 19 (1964): 55, 72; idem, “E´tudes des caracteristiques sanitaires et sociales des jeunes du contingent,” Population 18 (1963): 499. 22. BO,SN, ed. method, 1 June 1968, p. 105; Montmollin, “Le Niveau,” p. 260; Georges Marey, “Le Service national et le code du service national-II,” Revue militaire generale 28 (1972): 32; Code du service national (Paris: Journal ofﬁciel de la Re´publique Franc¸aise, 1989), p. 12; G. Pineau, “Ces trois jours qui durent huit heures,” Terre Magazine 13 (1990): 24. 23. R. & S. memo, 17 December 1953, LBH, p. 3; Department of Defense statement on Report on Study of the Draft, 1 June 1966, Dee Ingold papers (private). 24. Memo, medical, January 1950, MLNS, PRO/Lab6/144; ibid., 1940–1960, PRO/Lab6, 687; ibid., 15 July 1953, PRO/Lab6/144. 25. BO,SN, ed. method, 1 June 1968, pp. 72, 102, 105. 26. Memo, SSS, 20 May 1941, LBH, VF34E125; Vimont & Baudot, “Les Causes,” pp. 73, 76. 27. Memo, 1940–1960, Medical exams, MLNS, PRO/Lab6/687; Minute, MLNS, 31 December 1942, ibid., 219. 28. Robert A. Bier, “The Physician in National Defense,” Journal of the Michigan State Medical Society (17 September 1941): 4; Bier, “Preliminary Physical,” p. 2; G. H. Ince to Veysey, 22 February 1940, PRO/Lab6/144; quote in MLNS memo, 1939, PRO/Lab6/667; Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 835; L. V. Scott, Conscription and the Attlee Governments: The Politics and Policy of National Service 1945–1951 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 107. 29. Scott, Conscription, p. 107n33; Parker, Manpower, pp. 393–394. 30. MLNS memo, 22 May 1958, PRO/Lab6/685; BO,SN, ed. method, 1 June 1968, pp. 69, 102. 31. Bernard D. Karpinos, “Evaluation of the Physical Fitness of Present-Day Inductees,” Armed Forces Medical Journal 4 (1 March 1953): 418; Guidance memo, MLNS, 3 October 1952, PRO/Lab6/683. 32. Vimont & Baudot, “Les causes,” p. 73; Marey, “Le Service national-II,” p. 33; E´tude jeunes gens, 1 June 1971, MACV, SCdR, 24t14, EMAT; Guy-Michel Chauveau, Le service national: Rapport au ministe`re de la De´fense (Paris: La Documentation Franc¸aise, 1990), p. 54. 33. L. G. Rowntree, K. H. McGill, & O. H. Folk, “Health of Selective Service Registrants,” Journal of American Medical Association (4 April 1942): 3; Bauer,

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“Interpretation,” 204; U.S. President, Report of the Commission of Physicians Appointed to Examine the Requirements for Admission to the Army, Navy, and Marine Corps (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 29 February 1944), p. 11; Rowntree memo, 23 September 1943, LBH, VF 343R88/7. 34. Ingold ﬁle, Selective Service, 1953–1970, p. 16, 18, Ingold Papers; Selective Service System, Selective Service under the 1948 Act (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1951), p. 13; R. & S. memo, 14 March 1952, LBH, VF630.21S11; Selective Service System, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1952 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), p. 21; press release, 28 July 1958, Cent. ﬁle, OF Box 664, Dwight D. Eisenhower Papers, Eisenhower Library, Abilene, Kans. (hereafter cited as D.D.E.); J.F.C. Hyde, Jr., to Gen. A. J. Goodpaster, 15 July 1957, Ent. ﬁl., OF Box 664, DDE. 35. Select Committee on Estimates, MLNS, 3 October 1952, PRO/Lab6/683; DeVilliers to Myrddin Evans, 18 July 1940, ibid., 265; Scott, Conscription, pp. 106–107; Army Council Secretariat: Extract mins of 28th meet of Defence Com., 17 October 1946, PRO/WO32/12242. 36. Sec. d’e´tat, 1er bur, to ge´ne´raux commandants les regions, re politics des effectifs de 1954, 2 May 1954, MACV, 6T296–2, EMAT, 1oBur/EG; Ricalens, ness, soc, 1993, pp. 93–102. 37. George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion, 1935–1971, 3 vols. (New York: Random House, 1972), 3: 19 September 1965, 1961; speech by Senator Gaylord Nelson, 29 June 1964, Dwight McDonald Papers, Yale University Library. 38. Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es (hereafter cited as SIRPA) doss. Service Nationale, doss. 1, 1989, p. 36; Chauveau, Le Service, pp. 16, 51; SIRPA, press, doss., 1990, p. 1; SIRPA/Actuelle, 5 October 1990, p. 2; Maurice Faivre, “Les Chiffres actuels et futurs du service national,” De´fense nationale (November–December 1990): 183. 39. For an intersting ﬁctional account of the problems of dealing with “battle fatigue” in World War I, see the novels of Pat Barker, especially Regeneration. 40. Lecture by Hugh S. Johnson, 20 October 1939, NA, RG 147–97, Box 2; Frederick Osborn to Hershey, 15 July 1941, ibid., Box 50; Minutes of Medical Advisory Com., MLNS, 30 June 1943, PRO/Lab6/25; L. Lebrun, C. Doutheau, & H. Moutet, “Re´ﬂexions sur un an de se´lection psychiatrique des engage´s en 2e re´gion militaire,” Me´decine et arme´es 7 (1976): 625, 631; Michel Labro, “Faut-il supprimer le service militaire?” L’Express, 14 June 1980, pp. 31–37; Dexter M. Bullard, “Selective Service Psychiatry,” in Winﬁeld S. Pugh, ed., War Medicine: A Symposium (New York: Philosophical Library, 1942), p. 565; talk by Rowntree, “Wartime Med. and SS,” 6 October 1942, LBH, VF636, 1R88wn. 41. MLNS MAC 3/50. Med. Adv. Com. Introd. of group intell. est., January 1950, PRO/Lab6/144; Karpinos, “Evaluation,” p. 416; J.F.C. Hyde to Goodpaster, 15 July 1957, DDE, Cent. ﬁle, OF, Box 664. 42. Hyde to Goodpaster, 15 July 1957, DDE, Cent. ﬁle, OF, Box 664; Dargusch to Metts, 25 September 1941, NA, RG 147, Box 30–31; Army Council Secretariat, Report of Worked Part on Controlling Intake of NS men, 25 November 1949, PRO/WO32/12242; quote in Scott, Conscription, p. 211. 43. MLNS MAC 3/50. Med. Adv. Com. Introd. of group intell. est., note by MLNS, January 1950, PRO/Lab6/144; Sec. of Defense to Sam Rayburn, 15 July

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1957, DDE, Cent. ﬁle, OF, Box 664; Medical Survey Program, statistics, 6 January 1945, RG 147–97, Box 50-medd., NA. 44. Sullivan memo, 23 January 1941, RG 147–97, Box 50, NA; Frederick Osborn to President, 25 November 1940, FDR, OF 1413, Box 8; Bier, “Physician,” p. 5; Luther E. Woodward, “A Challenge to Social Work—The Medical Survey Program of Selective Service,” The Compass, 1 January 1944, pp. 7–10; Rowntree to Major Radl, 18 June 1941, NA, RG 147, Box 30–31; Minutes of Medical Advisory Com., MLNS, 30 June 1943, PRO/Lab6/25; Scott, Conscription, pp. 210– 211; MLNS Medical Advisory Com. minutes, January 1950, PRO/Lab6/144; S. C. Hooper, MLNS, to Brig. MPD Dewar, WO, 22 April 1955, PRO/WO32/15021. 45. Minutes of Medical Advisory Board, 30 June 1943, PRO/Lab6/25; quote from Bullard, “Selective Service,” p. 553. 46. MLNS, MAC, Janury 1950, PRO/Lab6/144; unsigned memo, LL 1/m 1579/ 6/1960; PRO/Lab6/687. 47. Montmollin, “Le Niveau,” p. 261; Marey, “Le service National-II,” p. 32; Lebrun, Doutheau, & Moutet, “Re´ﬂexions,” p. 631; Chauveau, Le Service, p. 53; Pineau, “Ces trois,” p. 24. 48. The Economists Review, 15 March 1997, p. 2. 49. Feldman, III: “An Illusion of Power,” 834; Vimont & Baudot, “E´tudes,” p. 517. 50. Montmollin, “Le Niveau,” p. 261; Ofﬁce of Sur. Gen. of Army report, 14 March 1952, p. 5, LBH, VF630.21S11, R&S; Medical com. memo, MLNS, 3 October 1952, p. 4, PRO/Lab6/683. 51. Vimont & Baudot, “Les Causes,” pp. 68, 77; The Practice of Conscription: Commentaries, IHEDN/MH1/1–6-1994; Ernest Brown to Sir Robert Hutchinson, 18 April 1940, PRO/Lab6/126. 52. SIRPA, press, doss., 1990, ﬁche 11; E´tude rehab., 1 September 1972, CV, SCdR, 24t14EMAT; France Soior, 12 October 1994, p. 1; Regard, SIRPA, 1994, p. 8; Vimont & Baudot, “Les Causes,” p. 77; Weber, Hollow, p. 70; Bernard Tricot, “Dossier pour la reforme de recrutement,” De´fense nationale 21 (1965): 982; Gilbert Koenig “Affectation de ressources et syste`me´ de conscription en France,” Revve e´conomie 24(1) (1973): 72; Bernard Boene, “Nonmilitary Functions of the Military in a Democratic State: The French Case,” in Daniella Ashkenazy, ed., The Military in the Service of Society and Democracy (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1994), pp. 114–115; Jacques Isnard, “Le nombre des exempte´s ne cesse d’augmenter,” Le Monde hebdomadaire 24 (November 1983): 9; Le Monde, 22 May 1995, p. 9; Analysis of results of Med. Exam., June 1939 to October 1939, 28 October 1939, PRO/Lab6/126; Select Com. on Estimates, 3 October 1952, PRO/ Lab6/683; Medical exam results, 15 July 1953, ibid./144; Manpower supply and service needs: to deVilliers from JHW, MLNS, 1941–1942, ibid./208; Min. of Defence minutes of meeting on call-up in 1960, 20 April 1960, ibid./694; G. Bonnardot, “De la Conscription a l’armee de metier,” Defense nationale (May 1992): 87; Selective Service, Annual Report 1954, p. 31; Selective Service under 1948 Act, p. 63; Report of Ofﬁce of Surgeon General of Army, 14 March 1952, LBH, VF630.21S11, R&S; U.S. Dept. of Labor issue, 1 November 1952, NA, RG330, Ent66.327; Rowntree speech, 23 September 1943, LBH, VF 434R88/7; Report on Physical Fitness of SS Registrants, 24 June 1948, DDE, Cent. ﬁle, OF box 664. 53. Vimont & Baudot, “Les Causes,” pp. 56–60, 62; Marey, “Le Service

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national-II,” p. 34; Statist. portant sur: cat. med., situation famille, etc. 173, 1 June 1970, CV, SCdR, 24t14EMAT; E´tude jeune gens, mai-juin, 1971, 1 June 1971, CV, SCdR, 24t14EMAT; SN en chiffres, 1990, p. 11; SIRPA, press, doss., 1990, ﬁche 11; Regard, SIRPA, 1994, p. 8. 54. Leonard G. Rowntree, “Mental and Personality Disorders in Selective Service Registrants,” Journal of the American Medical Association, 11 August 1945, p. 1086; Rowntree speech, 23 September 1943, LBH, VF 434R88/7; Report on Physical Fitness on SS Registrants, 24 June 1948, 12 September 1955, DDE, Central File, OF, Box 664; Parker, Manpower, p. 493. 55. See George Q. Flynn, Lewis B. Hershey, Mr. Selective Service (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985), p. 97. 56. Chauveau, Le Service, p. 51–53. 57. Parker, Manpower, p. 493; Report on Medical exams, 3 October 1952, PRO/Lab6/683; Paper No. 2 by AG on use of manp. in Army. October 41–May 42, PRO/WO32/9960; Unsign. memo ML 1/m.1579/6/1960, N.S. Medical Boards, PRO/Lab6/687. 58. See George Q. Flynn, The Draft, 1940–1973 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1993), pp. 33–34, 208–209. 59. Min. de la Guerre: Compte rendu sur le recrutement de l’arme´e, during 1921, CV9N169, doss 9. 60. E´tude jgs rehab., 1 September 1972, CV, SCdR, 24t14EMAT; E´tude d’un echant. rep. de la pop des jgs dans leur 19e. enne, 1 June 1969, ibid.; Chauveau, Le Service, p. 32; De´fense et Jeunes, 1990; SIRPA, SN, doss. 1, 1989, p. 44. 61. Levels of literacy were deﬁned as follow: 1—can’t read syllables; 2—can read isolated syllables; 3—can read isolated words; 4—can read ideas and isolated words; 5—can read simple phrases; 6—can read short text; 7—uses logic and chronology; 8—can read short story or text. See Regard, SIRPA, 1994, p. 14. 62. De´fense et Jeunes, 1990; Xavier Debontride, “Handicaps culturels: Le Grand revelateur,” Terre Magazine 13 (1990): 21; SIRPA, doss., 1, 14 March 1994, p. 59; Chauveau, Le Service, p. 33. 63. SIRPA, SN, doss. 1–4, 13 October 1994, press release; Le Monde, 14 October 1994, p. 2; ibid., 26 May 1995, p. 9; Regard, SIRPA, 1994, p. 15.

Chapter 9

Conscription and the Economy War in the 20th century involved everyone, not just soldiers. In total war the state had to mobilize the entire economy for the conﬂict. In the cases of Great Britain and France such a mobilization was basic to their military strategy. The long war, involving the massing of the total resources of empire, pointed to victory. The war economy meant that everything from raw material to plants producing the artifacts of war had to be controlled by the state. In addition, the labor in such industry had to be managed carefully to ensure maximum efﬁciency. In adopting this approach, Great Britain and the United States faced greater obstacles than France. In the former countries mobilization had to overcome strongly embedded principles of private control of private property. Since a massive scheme of nationalization was politically impossible, reasoned accommodations had to be developed. Similarly, the control of labor inherent in total war faced the barrier of long established individual and union rights. France also faced similar problems but possessed a stronger sense of corporatism upon which to rely. The solutions adopted in Britain and the United States were similar but not identical. In both countries the government respected the rights of private ownership in industry. Industrial leaders were coopted into the war economy by the creation of special advisory boards and consulted about economic mobilization. In dealing with labor, the British again used the same principles of cooption but went one step further by putting civilian labor, even women, under the mantle of compulsory service. Male and female workers in Britain were required by law to work where the government needed them. In the United States such a law was proposed but never adopted.

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The British and French were able to mobilize their economies at a level of compulsion far beyond that of the United States. Both European powers beneﬁted from a highly centralized governmental structure. The proximity to the battle front allowed these states a level of control that was unavailable to the distant United States. The different characters of the European economies also helped with centralization and mobilization. GREAT BRITAIN The centralized character of the British government should have provided an advantage in mobilizing the economy, but such was not the case during World War I. At that time the proximity to war, and the patriotism and enthusiasm it engendered, hurt efforts at efﬁcient mobilization. Workers left their jobs and rushed to volunteer for war. The government had no plan in place to ensure continued vital war production. Not until June 1915 did the Munitions of War Act pass. This was followed by a National Registration Act, but there was still no strict control over labor, nor even a full census of what was available. Organized labor strongly opposed compulsory military service and control of work.1 The British army soon expanded to a size beyond the capacity of the British economy. In August 1917 the Department of National Service, under Sir Auckland Geddes, ﬁnally obtained the power to allocate men for either ﬁghting or production. A list of reserved, or deferred, occupations appeared along with the power to transfer men from less important to more important jobs. In 1917 and 1918 the British army reported a deﬁcit of over 400,000 men. The government then moved to decertify and comb out men from industry, although this induced protest from labor and management. Industry complained that it suffered from a deﬁcit of over 100,000. The British never fully solved these manpower problems, which stemmed from a lack of early planning.2 Determined to avoid repeating this mistake, the government began planning as early as 1937, before Munich. The Ministry of Labour sketched out rough estimates of the numbers of skilled men needed in both the armed forces and in war industry. A Schedule of Reserved Occupations was prepared and published, ﬁrst in January 1939 and then a revised edition in May. Each occupation received a reserved age, say, 25. Men at or above this age were not subject to military call-up. But men below this age were draftable. Reserved men were prohibited from volunteering for the service or other jobs. Men in certain speciﬁed trades were allowed to enlist but only in their trade jobs.3 Before conscription was adopted in April 1939 the government promoted volunteers for the service. But even talk of volunteering caused unions to protest. Ernest Brown, then Minister of Labour, predicted that any industrial conscription would cause massive uprisings and disable armament

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production.4 With this in mind, the government began to design a military conscription system acceptable to labor. In late 1938 and early 1939 Brown held extensive talks with representatives of the Trade Union Congress. Among the union men taking part was Ernest Bevin, who would soon replace Brown as minister. The talks were eminently satisfying to labor, as Brown gave them whatever they wanted. This included representation on a national coordinating committee to oversee any national service program and a promise to make revisions as suggested. As for the obligations under the proposed voluntary national service program, Brown assured them that the obligation was one of honor only. When the administrative arms of the national service program were set up, the ministry made numerous revisions to ensure adequate representation of workers.5 Despite these concessions, elements in British labor still revolted when, in May 1939, the government introduced its ﬁrst national service bill for mandated training. The Scottish Trade Union leadership called for a boycott of the system. The English group cooperated, although small minorities put up protest at the government violating its pledge not to use conscription in peacetime. The vast majority of workers and employers cooperated because of the continued effort of the ministry to ensure representation from both employers and unions at all levels of the system.6 With the passage of the National Services Act of 3 September 1939 the government made provisions for appeals by employers for deferments of their workers. Representatives from labor and employer groups were given positions on the local and appeal boards that operated the draft. Perhaps, most signiﬁcant, Ernest Bevin, a leader of the Trade Union Council, became the new minister of labour and national service.7 Bevin became the hero of British war mobilization. A bulldog ﬁghter for what he perceived as his interest, he soon held a prominent position in the War Cabinet and became a Churchill favorite. In late September 1942 the prime minister penned Bevin a note of congratulation for having drafted nearly a million men and women into the forces while simultaneously adding 800,000 workers to war industry. In 1943 the press hailed the minister as the creator of the “best organized manpower in the world.” The United States had labor problems, claimed the press, because they had no Bevin.8 Yet this reputation was achieved only after a rather slow beginning. With over 1 million unemployed workers in 1939, government ofﬁcials expected the military draft to draw down on these men before threatening vital workers. The unemployed pool could also ﬁll the ranks of workers taken by the draft. This proved a misconception of how manpower mobilization operated. Despite the deferment schemes built into the law, young workers rushed to volunteer for the service. Vital skills were hard to replace from the unemployed ranks. By January 1940 the government announced that 2 million men were needed in engineering industries. But optimism still

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ruled at the MLNS, which announced that there were 650,000 men aged 20 to 25 available for military call-up and another 1.23 million aged 26 to 40 who could be called without hurting production.9 During this time the master tool for managing manpower remained the SRO. Men at or above the “age of reservation” for a particular occupation were reserved for civilian jobs. Those below the age of reservation were liable to call-up, subject to ﬁtness and appeal. The armed forces were not supposed to accept as volunteers any men in civilian jobs without clearance from the MLNS. By 1940, procedures were at work that allowed industry to request deferments for men under the age of reservation, if the man was vital and could not be replaced and the request was supported by a government procurement branch.10 Also in 1940 special registers were created for men in professions outside the war industry. This included law, accounting, banking, insurance, journalism, acting, and others. These registers were overseen by committees staffed by members of the various professions and could recommend deferments for individuals in these groups. In fact, the MLNS frequently canceled an induction notice, to the chagrin of the War Ofﬁce, when a defensible exception to the SRO appeared.11 As military manpower needs grew, the MLNS could and did adjust the age of reservation up or down. In some cases there were two ages speciﬁed, one for less vital positions in an industry and a lower age for more vital positions. In December 1941, the MLNS moved away from blanket reservations to reservations based on individuals in speciﬁc jobs.12 By 1942 only individual deferments prevented men under 25 from call-up for the military. Men aged 25 to 30 had to be in restricted occupations to stay out. After the conscription of female labor, the MLNS still proceeded with a “combing out” from industrial jobs of all men born on or after 1923. Some 40,000 were released in 1943.13 This system was far superior to the one eventually adopted by the United States, but it needed revision. By early 1940 William Beveridge, head of the Unemployment Insurance Committee, and others in the government began pressing for total conscription of civilian labor. Sir Ernest Brown, the original minister, resisted this idea, as did his successor Bevin. Although Bevin insisted upon a concentration of all manpower responsibilities in his ofﬁce, he was reluctant to draft labor and preferred to allow market forces to generate the right man for the right job. To his critics he replied that free labor was more valuable than the slave labor of the dictators.14 When France surrendered to Germany in the spring of 1940, a reassessment began in British mobilization. Britain had expanded its armed forces—with a call-up of 1.5 million—and its workforce, but not enough. Employment in engineering and chemical industries had climbed only a meager 4 percent; other essential industry only 1 percent. Over a million workers remained unemployed. Government needs required that employ-

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ment in base industries grow by 70 percent above prewar standings and by 117 percent by the summer of 1941. Such a growth represented a tripling of the World War I effort, but with German panzers and bombers sweeping across France, few were prepared to argue.15 The next obvious step was adopting the Beveridge proposal, now seconded by Neville Chamberlain as Lord President of Council. On 22 May, as France signed an armistice, the Emergency Powers Bill passed in one day. It provided authority to order anyone in Britain over 16 years of age to do any job needed. Britain now had an unprecedented power over its citizens. Bevin, however, moved only slowly to utilize this power, preferring public pressure to build up behind such a draconian step.16 Before conscripting labor, he appointed a joint consultative committee, made up of representatives from labor and management. Meeting repeatedly over the next year and a half, the committee greatly inﬂuenced how Bevin went about expanding his controls. But expand them he did. Over the next several months a variety of powers fell into place. Wage disputes and strikes were controlled by forced arbitration. Any man ordered to a job was entitled to the pay rate prevailing for the job. A “restriction on engagement” order ended the stealing of skilled labor, since now all new hiring in key industries had to go through the ministry’s employment exchange and be approved by the trade union involved. Bevin also assumed all power from the home secretary dealing with the safety, health, and welfare of factories.17 By June 1942 another 2,000,000 men and women were needed for both the armed forces and war industries. A later survey upped the need to 2,689,000.18 The general rule throughout the war was the higher the skill level possessed, the more government controls were exerted. In March 1941 an essential work order passed that prevented key workers from leaving any job without permission. They were all put on a special register maintained at MLNS. In a few rare cases, special tradesmen who were already in the service were loaned back to industry for a short period.19 The government even conducted a special investigation into proper utilization of tradesmen in the services, so desperate was the need in war industry. Special government-ﬁnanced training programs were launched to produce more skilled tradesmen.20 In 1943 the powers of the ministry were expanded again. By the end of the war these powers included the following: No worker could be ﬁred or quit without the consent of the MLNS; all men over military age (41) and all women over age 18 were registered; the system of reserved occupations changed to reserved individual workers; all men, 18 to 64, and all women, 18 to 59, who left work were subject to mandatory reassignment by MLNS; wages were controlled; and in special industries cases of chronic absenteeism and tardiness were punished by military call-up.21 Even more detailed arrangements had to be made in two particular cases.

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As in the United States and France, the British farmer enjoyed a virtual blanket deferment from military conscription. As early as January 1939 various agricultural organizations ﬂooded the government with pleas of the indispensability of the farmer. When the Military Service Act was ﬁnally passed, a system was devised by which farmers under age 25 could be delayed in call-up by application through the County War Agricultural Committee, staffed by farmers. Although the delay was supposed to be for a maximum of six months, it could be continued if no substitute was found. Many young British farmers served in the armed forces, but only because they managed to volunteer for service. Of the applications for deferment from farmers, an estimated 90 percent were granted. Such labor remained scarce, despite an attempt by the government to encourage the hiring of conscientious objectors (COs).22 The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries was a constant defender of this exemption, even suggesting that an invasion of the island had to be met without drafting farmers.23 The case of British miners was also special. For many young miners, the prospect of enlisting or being drafted into the armed forces was appealing. Nothing could be more dangerous than working in a British coal mine. But the denuding of the mines meant war industry would collapse. By the spring of 1940 mine employment had dropped to 764,000, compared with 773,000 a year earlier. Armed force recruiting of miners was prohibited, but the ban was raised after the fall of France. By the spring of 1941, mine labor had declined to 690,000 men. The age of reservation for miners was raised from 18 to 30, but by this time many young men had already enlisted.24 Now the government began a series of steps to force men into the mines. In 1941 all call-ups of coal miners ended. Bevin appealed for 50,000 exminers to return to the pits, but they failed to respond. In July a registration of all men with mining experience now in other jobs began, but this produced little useful labor. Next, in 1942 he threatened to call-up men who worked on the surface unless they went into the pits. By summer of 1942 the MLNS was offering mining as an alternative to any 18-year-old man who was called for military service. Nothing worked.25 Finally came the “Bevin boys” scheme. In one of his most unpopular actions, Bevin fell back upon drafting young men for the pits. The scheme, as worked out and conducted ﬁrst in December 1943, amounted to a lottery with losers rather than winners. The pool of players included all young men registered as ﬁt and awaiting enlistment notices. The ministry drew one or more numbers from 0 to 9, and if a young man had a registration number ending in same, he was bound for the pits. The ministry, and Bevin especially, insisted that it was of the “utmost importance that the arrangements should be as fair and impartial as possible and be recognized as such.” The only men excluded were those already accepted for ﬂying duty. There was no excluding men associated with a public school, because such

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an exclusion was “politically impossible.” Despite such arrangements, the scheme was very unpopular.26 Several ballots took place up to 22 April 1945. During the war a total of 21,000 men went digging under this order. A few young men resisted, but the government found it fruitless to prosecute those it could ﬁnd. In a few cases they were merely called up for the armed forces. Although the “Bevin boys” received training before descending into the pits, their overall production rate was low. By 1944 there were more coal miners working than in 1940. British war industry remained productive.27 Britain mobilized a higher percentage of its population for war than all her Allies, with the exception of the USSR. Britain started the war with over 1.2 million jobless; by January 1944 there were 79,000, most of whom were changing jobs or handicapped. Bevin boasted at the end of the war that the armed forces had never been deprived of a man in an authorized draft call. He was literally living with every able-bodied male and female in the land. His ofﬁcers conducted 32 million registrations, ﬁled 21.5 million job placements, called up 7 million to ﬁll the military ranks, and sat through 8 million interviews. Bevin called it a voluntary system with willing cooperation by employers and workers, but this was rhetorical rubbish. At every stage of the war the MLNS pushed and enforced rules. By January 1944 some 1.5 million workers had tried to strike, another 5,000 went to court to complain, but fewer than 2,000 went to jail. The threat of call-up proved decisive in breaking strikes and keeping workers in line.28 Bevin and the MLNS had done a magniﬁcent job. British society had done a magniﬁcent job. The public accepted and even cooperated with a series of restrictions that in another time and place might have caused a revolution. The armed forces gave up recruiting for regular forces and accepted the manpower delivered by a civilian-run agency. Workers accepted control over their movement. When the war began in September 1939 the British commitment to the continent was only 16 divisions. During the conﬂict, Britain achieved a peak strength of 5.12 million under arms and equipped.29 After V-E Day in May 1945 economic controls ended, but conscription continued.30 The British armed forces still required men to provide garrison duty and meet treaty obligations. A year after the war, volunteering for regular duty was still controlled. The armed forces needed 160,000 men in the last half of 1945. By 1946 the SRO had been revised to permit fewer deferments, but not even the end of deferments for all men 18 to 25 could cover these needs.31 The list of essential occupations was ended and labor could move freely once again. Recruiting was again permitted with few restrictions. In the highly protected areas of farming and mining, young men were allowed to either accept induction or volunteer.32 The requirements of European and Asian occupation, the problems created by the collapsing empire, and the increased tensions with the Soviet

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Union all mandated a strong military force. National service had been a success in the war, and it became easy to repass the required legislation. Such a decision, however, had serious implications for a British economy already battered by the dislocation of World War II. An annual intake of 150,000 young men from the now-smaller British labor cohort was bound to create shortages. The implications of this labor scarcity became clear in the 1950s with price and wage problems, as competition for skilled workers became intense.33 During Clement Atlee’s government, economic crises were a recurring feature.34 When National Service was ﬁnally revised in 1947 to require one and one-half years, the MLNS predicted a loss of 100,000 young workers to industry. The law speciﬁed that employers had to rehire demobilized men, but only 50 to 82 percent returned to their old jobs.35 The tension between demands of national defense and the economy continued for the next 10 years,36 but the wartime consensus allowing conscription continued for several years. Even unions supported National Service, not least because it was put forth by a Labour government. Industry suffered more than higher education, because of special deferment open to students. By January 1949 the armed forces stood at a strength of about 688,000.37 With the Korean conﬂict of 1950–1951, the economy showed some strain. The National Service tour went to two years, and skilled labor became scarce. The various schemes introduced to protect such workers varied according to economic ﬁeld. A 1954 study found that the proportion of males under age 20 with deferments were as follows: engineering, 8 percent; precision instruments, 10 percent; building, 10 percent; but transport only 5 percent. Agriculture, not surprisingly, had 11 percent.38 The reserve training requirements, now a part of each man’s National Service obligation, presented problems for industry. Even government-run and -owned industry found it difﬁcult to release men for two week’s consecutive training each year. The military insisted it needed 15 consecutive days of training, but private industry generally offered one or two weeks, depending on the annual leave accumulated.39 Industry became increasingly skeptical of the need and usefulness of skilled tradesmen in the forces, despite reassurances by the military that such men were, whenever possible, used where their special skills were applied. To not take such men would make a mockery of the idea of universal service.40 A mockery already existed. Although the government constantly reiterated that national service was a universal obligation, it had always provided for exceptions. After the war these exceptions continued. Male apprentices born in 1929 and afterward were eligible for deferments to ﬁnish training. Students born after 1 October 1927 were allowed to obtain their degrees. Candidates for admission in 1947 and 1948 were also eligible for deferment. The assumption was that the men would do their tour when they

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ﬁnished training, but the purpose of the deferment was to encourage industrial production.41 After January 1947 deferments were cut severely. Yet some 50,000 a year were still allowed to ﬁnish training and reach the age of 21 or 22 before being called up. Some 100,000 a year were called up at age 18. By the Korean buildup the only men beyond the training classes who had deferments were those in mining, agriculture, and certain scientiﬁc ﬁelds, working on atomic energy or guided weapons. All other industrial deferment requests were rejected.42 With rearmament for Korea, the clamor for more deferments increased. Attracting industry for arms contracts was not so easy, given existing labor shortages. Elements in the government favored offering a widening of deferments as a carrot to attract industry to contracts. But the MLNS, supported by the armed forces, resisted this move. Counterarguments were persuasive. First, if one began granting deferments to one industry, it would be difﬁcult to resist pressure to expand continuously. In early 1951 the ministry expected a shortfall of 20,000 in ﬁlling army calls for the next year. Second, the moral standing of peacetime National Service depended upon the public perception of its universality. Much effort was put into ensuring that the deferred apprentices and students eventually put in their time. Wholesale deferments would ruin the credibility of conscription.43 Generally, the government held the line against deferments beyond students and apprentices, but there were two sectors of the economy that consistently received special treatment: mining and farming. Although the draft of men into the mines had quickly ended, the armed forces were still prohibited from recruiting young miners. The labor shortage in this ﬁeld continued until the late 1950s. At one point, the minister of fuel and power reported that coal production had fallen to a point where it imperiled power output. He proposed, and the cabinet accepted, a reverse draft, of calling back young miners who had joined the forces in the last two years.44 Young farmers also got special treatment. Unlike other areas of the economy, agriculture continued to enjoy blanket protection after the war was over. Although resisted by the Ministry of Labour, the cabinet continued this automatic protection until the Korean crisis in 1951. When it was ﬁnally ended on 15 February 1951 there was considerable protest in farm circles and a concentrated effort to reverse the decision.45 The Ministry of Agriculture, supported by the farm lobby, won a suspension of call-up during harvest time, which grew from 11 weeks to 14 weeks and was renewed each year until the end of the draft. By October 1955 each new age class generated about 15,000 men in farming. Of this group about 7,000 were deferred. The next year deferments increased to 9,500. Like the American farmer, the British farmer was proof against the universality of national service.46

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THE UNITED STATES Superﬁcially the economic effect of conscription in the United States mirrored what happened in Britain. In both nations there was opposition by labor and resentment of any infringement of economic liberty. In the United States, planning for conscription during World War I was inﬂuenced by progressive intellectuals who saw mobilization as an opportunity to organize the economy efﬁciently. The resulting draft failed to achieve such ambitions, although the principle of “selectivity” in the draft system spoke to the aims of these progressives.47 When the Department of War went about its prewar mobilization planing in the 1930s, planners focused on the economic implications of conscription. In particular there was acknowledgment of the importance of ensuring the cooperation of organized labor. Just as in England, draft planners met with union ofﬁcials and assured them of recognition in the conscription process, particularly on appeal boards. The Democratic administration of Franklin Roosevelt, which depended on the labor vote, had no intention of antagonizing this constitutency. Yet when the draft bill was debated in 1940, labor still opposed it, so FDR stayed neutral. The law was ﬁnally adopted in October 1940, but John L. Lewis of the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO) and other labor leaders continued to think the draft unnecessary. But FDR lost little political credit.48 The law provided for protection of vital workers through a system of deferments in the interest of national safety and health. Problems arose not because of the failure to recognize the implications of the draft for the economy but because of the arrangements of the draft apparatus itself.49 Because Americans believed in Jefferson’s adage about small government being the best government and best solutions being local solutions, the draft was run by local boards, “little groups of neighbors.” Clarence Dykstra, the ﬁrst director, said the draft should be seen as “supervised decentralization—the selection of men by their neighbors and fellow citizens.” National headquarters provided guidance and general rules.50 The contrast with the British organization was striking. The United States allowed local boards, manned by civilian volunteers, to decide on occupational deferments. This meant there was no national view of what was happening in the ﬁeld, nor control of manpower as existed with the SRO. The United States never had the power to transfer directly a man from one job to another. Even when the British moved to individual deferments the power to defer remained national, not local. British call-ups for the military were always related to job types and different ages, but the United States lacked this power of discrimination. Instead, calls were just sent out to the states and then to local boards. Employers and employees then made their case to local boards, which used national guidelines to grant or not grant deferments. Who was called and at what age always depended on the local

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pool and the draft quota to be met. National guidelines provided incentives but not positive controls.51 Neither labor nor management nor government worried about such manpower problems as American military preparation began in 1940. The United States was emerging from the depression. In 1940 there were still 8.12 million people unemployed. This represented about 14.6 percent of the entire workforce. Based on the ratio of war workers to armed forces that prevailed in World War I, planners estimated that a military of 4.5 million required some 8.1 million workers. Given such a picture, the prospect was that the draft could use the unemployed and leave war workers alone. Alvin E. Dodd, president of the American Management Association, expected business to continue to hire and train draft-eligible males.52 Such a view ignored reality. The unemployed included many men not eligible for military service because of age or health. The danger still existed that young skilled males would be taken from vital jobs.53 The labor surplus was a mirage. Many young men began volunteering for the service before the draft became operational in November 1940. The services encouraged such volunteering, which only ended in 1942. Another major problem was the attitude of local boards toward skilled labor. Boards were staffed with local patriots who saw their primary function as ﬁlling military ranks, not protecting the economy. In contrast to the British, the United States launched conscription with an air of carelessness. For example, Roosevelt’s love of bureaucratic chaos ensured that the Selective Service (SS) remained independent of government agencies involved in production. When the draft was passed in October 1940, Dykstra reassured management that production was not at risk because local draft ofﬁcials appreciated the need to protect war production.54 But local board ofﬁcials proved this assumption wrong. Even before the United States entered the war, industrial leaders began complaining about the draft taking key men. Local boards preferred deferring married men and fathers, over single war workers. The national headquarters of SS issued directive after directive “advising” local boards on the need to protect key workers. Although elaborate forms and procedures were established to ensure requests for job deferments went only to the deserving, the complaints continued throughout the war. Boards did authorize delays in call so replacements could be found, but it was all hit or miss.55 Both the Ofﬁce of Production Management and the secretary of agriculture complained because of the loss of vital workers.56 Local boards lacked the skill and will for such a task, and neither Congress nor the president wished to establish a czar over both military and civilian manpower. Management was partly at fault. Rather than being selective, plants tried to protect all workers for the lucrative war contracts ﬂowing in. When local boards refused to cooperate, management complained to Washington. So

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did organized labor.57 State appeal boards were supposed to offer representation of both labor and management, but not all governors followed this idea when appointing members.58 The United States lacked a true national service law that would allow the federal government to assign a man where he was needed, into either a uniform or a job. The lack of such power was obvious early to planners in the War Department, especially Secretary of War Henry Stimson.59 Such inadequacies stood out in dealing with strikes by labor. When CIO workers at Ryan Aeronautical Company of San Diego threatened a strike, the local draft board threatened to conscript all strikers. The CIO complained to the president who, always sensitive to labor votes, passed it to the director of Selective Service. General Hershey responded by denying that striking meant an automatic lost of deferment. Deferments were granted for skills, and a worker did not lose his skill when he struck. He denied that Selective Service was a tool to intimidate workers.60 Yet the idea of such intimidation did have congressional support.61 In the spring of 1941, several congressmen, led by Senator Tom Connally of Texas, proposed a bill making all draft-age men ineligible for strikes.62 The president disliked the legislation and preempted the congressional initiative by issuing an executive order authorizing federal troops to take over any strike-bound plant. At the same time the SS national headquarters issued orders to local boards to reclassify registrants who stopped working, even if they had dependency deferments.63 These threats, although not justiﬁed in law, did have an effect. Up to June 1941 some 377,700 man-days had been lost because of strikes in work involving military contracts. The next month only 28 strikes were still operating, and just 12,600 strikers had been working on war material. But this device of using the draft was not defensible in the courts, and neither Hershey nor Roosevelt wished to become known as a union buster.64 In several cases the strikes had resulted from management failing to obey federal orders. Soon Hershey was telling local boards to stop reclassifying strikers until they received further instructions. The draft was an inappropriate tool for controlling workers.65 Selective Service had a narrow mandate. It was supposed to put men into uniform, not control domestic labor, but there were attempts to expand the mandate through what was called “work or ﬁght” orders. Local authorities and then national headquarters issued statements that men in nonessential jobs were ripe for induction.66 Such measures were rather indirect when compared with the control of labor imposed by the British government. But the president and organized labor and even some business leaders opposed adopting a true national service law. Instead, Roosevelt created a temporary ad hoc agency called the War Manpower Commission to coordinate labor supplies. Under the leadership of Paul McNutt, the agency found itself without adequate power and without enough information.67

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The president ended military recruiting on 5 December 1942, but Congress refused to give the WMC the power needed to solve the other problems.68 National service remained politically impossible. The draft system did make liberal use of deferments for key workers, particularly for farmworkers.69 In 1942 some 28,477,000 Americans had registered for the draft. Of this total 15,690,000 had deferments for occupational reasons, while 5,778,000 had been drafted. The list and volume of deferments were so extensive that by 1944 it threatened the needed expansion of the army for the European military effort.70 To make matters worse, the number of deferments seemed to be unrelated to the shortage of key workers. In 1943 a House Committee on Small Business reported no relief from the call-up of vital workers.71 Local boards refused to draft fathers before single men, regardless of job.72 Boeing production of B17 bombers was stalled because of worker shortages.73 The deferment system also did little to change the historic relationship between class and military service.74 A study of deferments and occupations found that the higher the job status, the more likely the deferment, regardless of contribution to war effort, which was hard to measure.75 Although James Byrnes assumed power at the Ofﬁce of War Mobilization in fall 1943, with the executive mandate to supervise the economy, the manpower scene remained chaotic.76 Hershey was so short of eligible men for the armed forces that he was threatening to draft fathers. Industry was insisting it needed more deferments. Local boards were accusing industry of hoarding men, and Congress was warning the WMC against trying to impose national service with a worker freeze.77 To complete the picture, in Februrary 1944 the president insisted that the pool of potential soldiers had been “dangerously depleted by liberal deferments.” He wrote: “I think we have been overly lenient.”78 Lenient, perhaps, but not effective. In some cases military installations refused to yield up young single male workers. The farmers had virtually a congressionally mandated blanket deferment.79 Polls showed the public supported national service only after all single men had been taken. In February 1944 the public accepted drafting workers if needed, but only 16 percent thought there was a need.80 The military situation in 1944 led to one last attempt to use the draft as a substitute for a national service law. General George Marshall explained to Byrnes in April 1944 that the armed forces had accepted a cut of over a half million in their authorized strength in 1943 to help the war economy. But then new missions had been laid on that required an additional 715,000 troops. One of the missions was Operation Overlord, the invasion of Europe. According to Marshall, the draft system was failing to provide the requisite young men. Byrnes responded by authorizing SS to call up all men under age 38 who left war industry or changed jobs without the approval of local boards. This was designed to help industry rather than the

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army. The armed forces were expected to induct these men and then release them to industry on furlough. Secretary of War Stimson agreed to the plan with the proviso that such men did not count against the military strength ceiling.81 Problems arose immediately. Some local boards used the directive to induct men already disqualiﬁed by examination. The directive failed to cover the many farmworkers leaving the land to seek high-paying jobs in industry. In fact, SS did little actual reclassifying. When Hershey sought the power to extend the directive to farmworkers, the army resisted. It already had too many limited service men with no jobs. By May 1945 the War Department wanted the entire program to end or be limited only to those who could meet standards for general service.82 The victory in World War II and the impressive productive performance of the American economy helped to disguise the obvious. In comparison with Britain and other industrial powers, the United States had done a miserable job of coordinating its conscription system with its war economy.83 Although the general failure was largely due to political constraints and the absence of invasion threats, there was recognition of the need for better coordination during the Cold War. In 1947 the National Securities Act was passed, creating among other agencies a National Security Resources Board (NSRB) with the mandate to develop policies for future mobilization and utilization of manpower. The various heads of this agency sought to gain control over SS, but President Truman consistently refused permission, and the draft remained under presidential control.84 In reality, it remained under local control, but this feature proved politically popular. An attempt to put the draft under the Labor Department in 1950 was easily defeated.85 After the invasion of South Korea by the North in June 1950, Selective Service again began drafting large numbers of American youth. The NSRB warned about the impact of this new mobilization on the economy. Ironically, the most immediate and drastic economic impact was caused not by draft calls but by the decision to recall reservists. These men were older and in more responsible positions than 18-years-olds. As many of them were veterans of World War II, they and their bosses both complained bitterly at this new call. But America’s military strength had been cut drastically after 1945, and the crisis in Korea demanded immediate relief. The army could not wait for new draftees to be trained. The president turned a deaf ear to special pleading but directed Stuart Symington of the NSRB to work with Labor and Defense to create a manpower control plan.86 Eventually both the Labor Department and the Commerce Department issued lists of essential skills and critical jobs. Such lists were again only advisory to local boards in drafting for Korea. The limited scope of the war and the mobilization ensured that the impact on the economy was limited. The draft did hit many men under the age of 25 who had the

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degrees in science and engineering sought dearly by the burgeoning defensescience-industry complex. But the impact was mixed. A survey in October 1953 found some 24,000 men deferred for jobs, with 10,101 as engineers. Only 61 percent of these men worked directly in war production.87 Limited mobilization continued after the Korean armistice in 1953. By this time American demographics were such that the economy had little to fear from the draft. In fact, the problem became one of ﬁnding ways to defer an excessive number of men from what was supposed to be a universal military obligation. In 1950 the U.S. population was 150,696,000 with a workforce of 59,500,000.88 Now the Selective Service system underwent a conversion of responsibility. It turned from ﬁnding men for the armed forces into an agency offering deferments for students, trainees, and future workers. By 1960 there were 57,000 men deferred for industry, but this was just a drop in the bucket compared to the virtual blanket deferment for college students and farmers. Such “channeling” was a means of dealing with the demographic excess. Unfortunately, it also diluted the primary task of the draft, to ﬁnd ﬁghting men. When a new mobilization began during the Vietnam War, the draft found itself forced to cut back these deferments, with the consequent political turmoil. The economy, however, remained largely unaffected.89 The Vietnam-era draft had a considerable effect on American society but created few problems for the American economy. President Johnson decided in 1965 to expand the ﬁghting force in Vietnam by expanding draft calls. Leaders of businesses applauded the decision to take young men rather than experienced reservists, as was done in 1950. Young men also had the highest unemployment rate, so this contributed to Johnson’s War on Poverty.90 In 1966 some 150,000 young Americans turned 19 each year. Draft calls totaled 382,000 that year, but they declined each year to 163,000 in 1970. While obtaining a new job deferment became more difﬁcult, there were over 6 million registrants who were deferred for dependency or occupation.91 Added to these were the thousands of young students in college who were deferred for studies. As the draft expanded, some trade unions and personnel managers complained at the effect on their workforces.92 But given the size of the economy and the level of calls, the impact of the draft was modest. Economic factors did enter into the debate on ending the draft, but such concerns were really a cover for political motives. President Nixon’s decision to reduce draft calls and move to an all-volunteer force sprang from his fear of domestic political unrest, not the state of the American economy. When Milton Friedman, John K. Galbraith, and other economists couched their arguments against the draft in economic terms, it was just window dressing. The draft had to be replaced because of its cost to the political credibility of the president and its disruption of American society.93

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FRANCE The impact of conscription on the French economy reﬂected important differences with the Anglo-Saxon tradition. Unlike the United States, France has never embraced a classic form of capitalism. The French economy since the Revolution has always been very much at the mercy of the central state. After World War II the system became even more characterized by nationalization and dirigistes.94 France also remained a largely agrarian society up to World War II. In 1930 one-third of the population still worked the land. Out of a total population of over 41 million and an employment force of 19.35 million, some 32.5 percent were in agriculture and forestry. Thanks to a Napoleonic inheritance system, most of the farm holdings were very small. The land had to be divided equally among the heirs, so the farms became increasingly smaller. In 1939, 45 percent of the population lived in communities of less than 2,000. The character of French agriculture frustrated mechanization. In 1939 France had 35,000 tractors, whereas the United States had 1.5 million.95 The French approach to economic mobilization also reﬂected its history. The experience of World War I had shown the need to ensure that conscription did not enfeeble industrial output. After the war a “Conseil supe´rieur de la de´fense nationale” emerged to consider such issues. But French conscription was not easily modiﬁed. The reduction in length of a conscript’s tour in the 1920s was achieved only with great reluctance, despite its obvious implications for the economy.96 The devastation wrought in World War I also shaped the French economy in the 1930s. Not only were northern industrial areas of France laid waste, but the French workforce received a blow from which it recovered only in the 1950s and 1960s. Although World War II cost France ﬁve times as much as World War I, this was only money. In men, the ﬁrst war was much more costly. France lost 1.4 million men, which was over 10 percent of its working male population. Another 4.3 million men were wounded, and at least a million of these were unable to work again. These losses were both direct and indirect, in the form of children not born.97 Despite having a less modernized and more fragile economy than either Britain and the United States, France remained committed to the conscription ideal until the 1990s. Its commitment reﬂected its strategic position on the continent and its revolutionary heritage. Notwithstanding its fragile economy, France’s military spending exceeded that of both its Allies in the period 1905 to 1935. France’s spending from 1905 to 1938 as a percentage of its state budget and of its gross national product (GNP) was higher, and on a per capita basis it was much higher.98 Such spending partially explains France’s delay in modernizing its economy until after World War II. Like Britain and the United States, France understood theoretically the

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importance of operating its conscription system in a manner that was least harmful to its economic prospects. In the ﬁrst war, however, the results were chaos, when over half of its industry had to stop producing. About 42 percent of all industrial workers held exemptions from call-up, but they alone could not do the work. Two months after the beginning of the war commanders had to order experienced workers in uniform back to Paris, especially machinists. At a central depot in Paris, industrialists came to round up their needed workers.99 In planning for the second war France went to extraordinary lengths to avoid a repetition of this confusion. All industries that held war orders were given lists of worker-reservists who were subject to call-up in the event of total mobilization. The managers were expected to notify the Bureau of Recruitment of the men that needed to be excused from call-up. But again, confusion ensued. Some men had moved from their initial area of call to another region, under another Bureau of Recruitment. Again mechanics and engineers crucial for war production were called to the colors. Vital ﬁghting units, especially motorized outﬁts, found themselves forced to return men with technical skills. Despite extensive planning, France could not indulge in universal compulsory military training with the imposition of reserve duty and still expect to mobilize for war without upsetting the economy.100 After World War II it remained an open question if France could revitalize its economy while maintaining its universal compulsory military service. The United States ended the draft temporarily but renewed it in 1947 and still enjoyed a booming economy, but it had special advantages over a war-torn France. Britain also continued its national service but found it strained the British economy. France had suffered much more economic dislocation than either the United States or Britain. During the German occupation some 40 percent of French industrial production went to serve the Nazi war effort, and thousands of French workers were drafted into the Nazi war machine. By 1945 France’s industrial output was only 38 percent of the level reached in 1938.101 Despite this condition the French economy took off after the war, even while it maintained conscription. From 1947 to 1973 the French economy outpaced that of Britain and most other European states. True, France beneﬁted from Marshall Plan aid, but so did others who could not keep pace. In 1951 its gross domestic production was only two-thirds that of Britain, but by the 1970s, France was producing 25 percent more than its channel neighbor. Even while continuing to draft an annual contingent for military service, France was able to raise its exports by 25 percent. More important, France transformed itself from an agrarian society to a modern industrial society. While its agricultural production doubled, the number of its farmworkers declined to 20 percent in 1962, to less than 10 percent in 1975, and to less than 5 percent in 1990. The number of farms fell from

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2.3 million in 1954 to 1.3 million in 1974. France had 20,000 tractors in 1946; over a million in 1965. The percentage of self-employed, small shopkeepers, and artisans dropped from 13 percent of the workforce to 8 percent. Middle-level management types increased from 9 percent to 17 percent.102 While this economic transformation came to a halt with the Middle Eastern oil embargo of late 1973, it was still a remarkable performance. French conscription was not a burden on the economy as it was in Britain. Its situation was no doubt helped by a baby boom in the period after World War II up to the 1960s. Also, especially after 1960, its level of spending on defense declined.103 In the new period of economic prosperity and diminishing military obligations, France faced some serious questions about its conscription system. The existing system still operated on principles drawn up in 1928. In many ways it was a ﬂexible tool from the aspect of economic impact. On paper it seemed ﬂexible and sensitive to economic needs. It provided for deferments for men in training, students, and apprentices. It allowed France to defer individuals in key economic roles such as farmers, miners, or owners of small businesses. For example, Lionel Pasco was 22 and proprietor of a business with 20 workers. His call-up threatened the livelihood of his employees. His neighbors in Besse complained that he might do nothing in the army, but the town would lose a chief of business. After some initial confusion, he was granted a deferment. Such deferments were supposed to be temporary but could be extended almost indeﬁnitely.104 Yet by the mid-1950s France had to confront the same problem appearing in the United States: a growing cohort of eligible males and a reduced military budget. When the army came home from ﬁrst Indo-China and then Algeria, the problem became acute. The French apparatus seemed capable of adjusting to this problem, however. The ﬁrst solution, which was already partially in effect, was to become more a selective service than a universal service by expanding the range of deferments. Another option was to raise the standards for enrollment in the service, thereby rejecting more as unﬁt. Finally, the option existed of reducing the length of the tour, thereby opening more positions at a faster rate. To a degree, all of these options were adopted over the next few years. But unemployment still jumped from 0.9 percent in 1964 to 2.4 percent in January 1972, and other problems arose.105 As in the United States, revising the draft to cope with increased eligibles also generated political questions of equity. While France insisted that all males must do military service, now a smaller percentage were actually doing it. Additionally, there was the question of the impact of the draft on the economy. Young males had difﬁculty ﬁnding a permanent position while still facing military service. The annual contingent drew down on the workforce across the economic spectrum. In 1969 the cohort of 19-year-

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old males was working in the following areas of the economy: industry, 67 percent; commerce-ﬁnance, 15.5 percent; agriculture, 13.4 percent; other, 4 percent.106 An increasing number of people began to complain that the current system represented a poor allocation of manpower for both the civil and military sectors. Britain in 1960 and the United States in 1973 moved to an all-volunteer military. France continued to resist this option while the debate grew more intense. When trying to establish the relative cost of the current system versus an all-professional force, ofﬁcials confronted several intangibles. Above all there was the spiritual commitment to the theory of a nation in arms. Pierre Mauroy, a member of parlement, remarked that “the security of the city comes less from the solidity of her fortiﬁcations than it turns on the spirit of the citizens.”107 There was also the problem of estimating the actual cost of conscription as opposed to an all-professional force. When a new draft law was being prepared in the summer of 1970, a debate began on this problem. It was clear that conscription represented an economic plus for the military, but there were economic minuses for the civilian population. One had to balance the cheap cost of a conscript against the negatives of constantly training new men, of the indifferent utilization of labor while in uniform against the lost of productive labor in the civilian economy. This tax on the young was also unfairly borne. One study concluded that the cost of an allvolunteer force of 470,000 men would be around Fr4,570 million, compared to only Fr3,750 million for a conscript force of 500,000. Cost estimates also had to consider the loss to the armed forces of well-trained youth who would not likely enter under a volunteer system. The growing civilian economy also needed such men. In the end, the new law was accepted without resolving the economic problems but by stressing noneconomic considerations such as the concept of military service as a debt paid from one generation to the next in defense of the nation.108 Since this failed to solve the basic problem of excess numbers and malutilization, the debate continued over the next two decades. A minority continued to complain that the system pulled productive labor out of jobs, ended professional training, and was a long-range burden on economic growth. Despite a legal right to return to a precall job, less than 35 percent of draftees did so. The response of the armed forces to such criticism, and to the increased demographic pressure from the adoption of a nuclear strategy requiring fewer troops, was to gradually turn military conscription into national service with civilian work alternatives to military duty. Eventually national service was defended as a kind of jobs corps for French youth. Conscription had helped to keep down youth unemployment rates. One study indicated that without a draft unemployment among youth would rise about 10,000 to 20,000.109 There was also the supposed beneﬁt of the training the military provided youth. An elaborate system of job counseling

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was instituted to accompany formal studies while on duty. With so much civilian-oriented training, the state of military training had to suffer. The French military by the 1990s boasted less of its ﬁghting skills than of its role in curing social problems, such as illiteracy.110 National service introduced a variety of nonmilitary options for young draftees. They could serve as aide in French businesses operating abroad, as instructors, or as social and material engineers in emerging countries. Even within France and other European countries young men served as clerks, teachers, social aides, health aides, bakers, and carpenters. Some worked as trainees in French companies’ foreign ofﬁces. After 16 months of serving in such companies, the men were well trained to take up a permanent job upon release from “military” duty.111 Such reforms failed to restore credibility to the system. When the performance of the French military during the Gulf War of 1991 proved inferior to the British contingent of volunteers, critics multiplied. An increasing number of politicians insisted that the system made a mockery of the idea of universal, equal service. Somehow the plushest nonmilitary assignments seem to end up ﬁlled with graduates of the best universities or relatives of high-ranking ofﬁcers. The elaborate training in military jobs converted to civilian jobs in only 30 percent of cases examined. Too many youth were evading military service. Finally, the military was not the proper institution to deal with economic problems such as unemployment and illiteracy. Such criticisms helped pave the way for President Jacques Chirac’s decision in 1997 to end the system.112 NOTES 1. R.J.Q. Adams & P. P. Poirier, The Conscription Controversy in Great Britain, 1900–1918 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1987), p. 20. 2. Margaret Levi, “The Institution of Conscription,” Social Science History 20 (Spring 1996): 137–138; F. W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organisation in Two World Wars (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), pp. 25, 36–37. 3. Outline of History of Nat. Service, unsign. memo. 1/M1579//1960, Lab6/ 682, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO). 4. Ibid.; Peter Dennis, Decision by Default: Peacetime Conscription and British Defence 1919–39 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1972), p. 76. 5. Meeting of Trade Union Congress delegation with Minister, 23 December 1938, PRO/Lab6/237; William Elger to Secretary, MLNS, 1 March 1939, PRO/ Lab6/240; H. H. Wiles to Nicholson, 19 April 1939, PRO/Lab6/238. 6. News summary, MLNS, 24 May 1939, PRO/Lab6/240; MLNS to Conference of Employer Organizations, 23 August 1939, PRO/Lab6/238; Alan Bullock, The Life and Times of Ernest Bevin: Vol. 2: Minister of Labour, 1940–1945 (London: Heinemann, 1967), pp. 16, 17, 21. 7. 2 & 3 Geo. 6, RAF, 26 May 1939, p. 171; 2 & 3 Geo. 6, 3 September 1939, pp. 1151–1153.

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8. Quoted in Bullock, Bevin, pp. 211, 247. 9. Perry, Commonwealth, p. 60. 10. Ernest Bevin Papers, Churchill College, Cambridge, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as Bevin, mss), II, 3/8, 1 March 1944, p. 11; Note by MLNS on industrial restriction on voluntary enlistments, n.d., PRO/Lab6/237. 11. G.J.N. to all D.C.s, 11 October 1939 and 21 December 1939, PRO/Lab6/ 108; H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), p. 158; Mins. of meeting War Cab., Subcom. on Schedule of Reserved Occupations, 18 March 1940, PRO/Lab6/39. 12. Bevin to Anthony Eden, War Ofﬁce (WO), 15 August 1940, PRO/Lab6/ 265; Bevin, mss, II, 3/8, pp. 11, 53, 1 March 1944; Mins. of 55th meeting of NS Coord. Com., 7 June 1945, PRO/Lab6/242. 13. Minute: S. C. Hooper, S. L. Besso, A. Gunn, G. J. Nash, W. H. Reynolds, J. Walley, 23 June 1942, PRO/Lab6/254; Review of deferment of young men, 20 May 1943, ibid./242; MLNS circular 145/195, 14 August 1944, ibid./81. 14. Bullock, Bevin, pp. 9, 12, 43, 45. 15. Ibid., pp. 7, 9, 45. 16. Ibid., p. 15. 17. Ibid., p. 22; Bevin, mss, II, 3/8, p. 41; Press notice by MLNS, 7 June 1940, PRO/Lab6/641. 18. Parker, Manpower, p. 177; Perry, Commonwealth, p. 60; Bullock, Bevin, p. 138. 19. Bullock, Bevin, pp. 25, 57; Parker, Manpower, pp. 158–159; Extract from mins. of 49th meeting of ECAC, 7 March 1942, PRO/WO32/9971. 20. Bevin, mss, II, 3/8, pp. 19–22, 42, 1 March 1944. 21. Ibid., pp. 43–44, 51; Bullock, Bevin, p. 48; Outline of History of Nat. Service, unsign. memo. 1/M1579//1960, PRO/Lab6/682. 22. See Chapter 10 on conscience. 23. Memo to county war agriculture executive committees, 24 April 1940, PRO/Lab6/261; Minutes to Nicholson, 28 February 1940, ibid.; Min. of Ag. and Fisheries memo, December 1939, ibid.; Memo to county war ag. executive committees, 24 April 1940, ibid.; H. Johns to E.C.P. Lascelles, 9 February 1942, ibid./ 93; Parker, Manpower, p. 311. 24. Bullock, Bevin, p. 162. 25. Unsigned history of postwar deferm. arrangements, 1960, PRO/Lab6/685, p. 12; Bullock, Bevin, p. 162; Mins. of 26th meeting of NS Coord. Com., 30 July 1942, PRO/Lab6/241; Outline of History of National Service; Unsign. memo. 1/ M1579//1960, ibid./682. 26. Bullock, Bevin, p. 260; quote from H. N. DeVilliers to G. Dunn, 13 October 1943, PRO/Lab6/226. 27. Bullock, Bevin, p. 260; Bevin, mss, II, 3/8, 1 March 1944, p. 7; Taplan to Reg. Controller, 7 November 1945, PRO/Lab45/94. 28. Bullock, Bevin, pp. 53, 127, 267; Bevin, mss, II, 3/8, pp. 1, 52, 55; Mins. of NS Coord. Com., 12 November 1942, PRO/Lab6/241. 29. Perry, Commonwealth, p. 51; Memo from WO for all recruiting ofﬁcers, 16 May 1947, PRO/Lab6/276; Vincent J. Esposito, A Concise History of World War II (New York: Praeger, 1967), p. 400.

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30. Unsigned memo on reallocation of manpower, 13 September 1944, Bevin, mss, II, 3/3. 31. Mins. of NS Coord. Com., 12 June 1945, PRO/Lab6/242; Memo from WO for all recruiting ofﬁcers, 16 May 1947, ibid./276. 32. Mins. of 57th meeting of NS Coord. Com., 28 June 1945, PRO/Lab6/242; Note by MLNS on indust. restriction on vol. enlistments, January 1946, ibid./237; Memo by MLNS on call-up of students, 1946, ibid./280. 33. R. I. Raitt, “The George Knight Clowes Memorial Prize Essay, 1961,” Army Quarterly 83 (October 1961): 41–42. 34. L. V. Scott, Conscription and the Attlee Governments: The Politics and Policy of National Service 1945–1951 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 9. 35. Army Council Secretariat brief for Cab. Defence Com. on introd. of permanent conscription, 16 October 1946, PRO/WO32/12242; Report on cycle of conferences org. at London for members of Union of Western Europe by British Min. of Ed., 11–21 April 1956, 26 April 1956, E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre (EMAT), Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes, Paris (hereafter cited as MACV), 6t296, EMAT, 1oBur/EG. 36. During 1949 Great Britain spent 7.2 percent of its GNP on defense, compared to 5.9 percent in the United States and only 4.2 percent in France, and compared to the 480,000 men in arms in May 1939, between 700,000 and 850,000 stood ready in 1949. See Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 234. 37. Raitt, “George,” p. 42; Ronald Adam, “The Universities and National Service,” Universities Quarterly 5 (November 1950): 55; Outline of History of National Service; unsign. memo. 1/M1579//1960, p. 24, PRO/Lab6/682. 38. M. of Def. standing com. def. of call-up of men in rearm work, report by working party, 19 December 1950, PRO/Lab6/27; Nat. Joint Advisory Council of MLNS, mins., 31 January 1951, PRO/Lab6/593; C. Lloyd, “The Integration of National Service with the Country’s Economic Future,” Journal of the Royal United Service Institution 100 (1955): 189. 39. Nat. Joint Advisory Council of MLNS, mins., 31 January 1951; Brig. Caldbea memo on Reserve Army . . . in 1951, 16 February 1951, PRO/WO32/13958. 40. ACS, Brief by WO, 16 October 1953, PRO/WO32/13778; Lloyd, “Integration,” p. 193; A. J. Newling to H. H. Sellar, 19 May 1955, PRO/Lab6/18. 41. Unsigned history of postwar deferm. arrangements, 1960, PRO/Lab6/685; Memo by MLNS on call-up of students, 1947, PRO/Lab6/280. 42. Memo by MLNS on call-up of students, 7 October 1947, PRO/Lab6/218; Unsigned history of post-war deferm., 1960, ibid./685; Min. of Def. standing com. on deferments . . . , 19 December 1950, ibid./27. 43. Min. of Def. standing com. def. of call-up of men in rearm work, report by working party, 19 December 1950, PRO/Lab6/27; MLNS memo, unsigned. Def. call-up of men employed in rearm work, 1951, ibid. 44. Rhys J. Davies, MP, to Liddell-Hart, 12 March 1947, 1/222/3, B. H. Liddell-Hart Papers, States House, Medmenham, Marlow, Bucks., King’s College, London; Memo from WO for all recruiting ofﬁcers, 16 May 1947, PRO/Lab6/276; ACS: extract from meeting of cabinet, 4 December 1950, PRO/WO32/14114.

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45. Unsigned history of postwar deferm. arrangements, 1960, PRO/Lab6/685. 46. MLNS “Agricultural Works and National Service,” 1 August 1951, PRO/ Lab6/285; MLNS, ofﬁcial release on Ag. workers . . . , 1 August 1951, ibid./15; Unsigned history of postwar deferm. arrangements, 1960, PRO/Lab6/685. 47. See John W. Chambers II, To Raise an Army: The Draft Comes to Modern America (New York: Free Press, 1987). 48. See John O’Sullivan & Alan M. Meckler, eds., The Draft and Its Enemies: A Documentary History (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1974); Marvin A. Kreidberg & M. G. Henry, History of Military Mobilization in the United States Army, 1775–1945 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1955), p. 577; Denis S. Philipps, “American People and Compulsory Military Service” (Ph.D. diss., New York University, 1955), p. 407; Robert K. Grifﬁth, Jr., Men Wanted for the U.S. Army: America’s Experience with an All-Volunteer Army between the World Wars (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1982), pp. 188–191; Sullivan & Meckler, Draft, pp. 174–175; E. T. Katzoff & A. R. Gilliland, “Student Attitudes on the World Conﬂict,” Journal of Psychology 12 (October 1941): 228; Albert A. Blum & J. D. Smyth, “Who Should Serve: Pre–World War II Planning for Selective Service,” Journal of Economic History 30 (February 1970): 402. 49. Gary L. Wamsley, Selective Service and a Changing America: A Study of Organizational-Environmental Relationships (Columbus, Ohio: Merrill, 1969), p. 155. 50. New York Times, 10 November 1940, VII, 9. 51. Conﬁdential report of Ministry of Labour opinion on U.S. manpower policy, 26 January 1943, Harry Hopkins Papers, Bx324, bk7, f-3, Franklin D. Roosevelt Papers, Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, N.Y. (hereafter cited as FDRP). 52. Keith L. Nelson, ed. and comp., The Impact of War on American Life (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1971) p. 101; New York Times, 26 October 1940, p. 35. 53. Capt. Joseph F. Battley, speech on industrial manpower, 13 April 1940, RG 147, Box 13, NA; EMB memo to Major Hershey, 14 May 1940, National Archives (hereafter cited as NA), Record Group (hereafter cited as RG) 147, Box 23, E.97. 54. See George Q. Flynn, The Mess in Washington: Manpower Mobilizaton in World War II (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1979), chap. 1; Ford quoted in New York Times: 21 November 1940, p. 20; 24 November 1940, III, 7; 20 October 1940, III, 1; 25 November 1941, p. 46; 28 October 1940, p. 1. 55. New York Times: 2 January 1941, p. 8; 20 November 1940, p. 8; 8 November 1940, p. 8; 20 October 1941, p. 7; 12 October 1941, p. 36; 4 September 1941, p. 14; 2 September 1941, p. 28; 25 August 1941, p. 1. 56. New York Times: 23 February 1941, p. 26; 2 March 1941, p. 12; 12 March 1941, p. 42; 19 April 1941, p. 8; 3 May 1941, p. 1; 17 May 1941, p. 8; 18 May 1941, p. 38; 26 May 1941, p. 8; 26 July 1941, p. 13; Jack F. Leach, Conscription in the United States: Historical Background (Rutland, Vt.: C. E. Tuttle, 1952), ii. 57. See telegrams from labor leaders to White House in misc., 30 September 1940, Box 7, OF1413, FDRP. 58. Albert A. Blum, Drafted or Deferred: Practices Past and Present (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1967), p. 31n; for labor protest, see OF 1413misc, Box 7, 30 September 1940, FDRP.

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59. Patterson to Stimson, 28 March 1942, SS, reel 116, item 271, George C. Marshall Papers, Marshall Research Center, Lexington, Va. (hereafter cited as GCMP); Clark to Donald Nelson, WPB, 27 January 1942, ibid.; Stimson to Clark, 7 April 1942, ibid. 60. Quote in New York Times, 17 January 1941, p. 10. 61. New York Times: 27 April 1941, p. 34; 8 June 1941, p. 34; Lee Kennett, G.I.: The American Soldier in World War II (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1987), p. 15; Omer to Parker, 10 June 1941, Box 30–31, RG 147, NA. 62. New York Times: 3 April 1941, p. 15; 26 March 1941, p. 1; 28 March 1941, p. 1; 6 June 1941, p. 14; 8 June 1941, p. 37. 63. New York Times: 10 June 1941, p. 1; 11 June 1941, pp. 11, 13; Omer to Shattuck, 10 June 1941, Box 30–31, RG 147, NA. See New York Times, 10 June 1941, p. 17, and Chambers, To Raise, p. 192. 64. New York Times: 13 July 1941, IV, 8; 5 July 1941, p. 15; 24 July 1941, p. 18; 26 July 1941, p. 17. 65. George Q. Flynn, Lewis B. Hershey, Mr. Selective Service (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985), p. 105; New York Times: 9 August 1941, p. 6; 10 August 1941, p. 34; 12 August 1941, p. 12. See Stimson note, 21 June 1943, GCM, SS, reel 155, item 1937; Paterson to Pres., 24 May 1946, OF419F, Box 1261, Harry S. Truman Papers, Independence, Mo. (hereafter cited as HST). 66. Stimson for President, 16 February 1942, OF 1413, Box 2, FDRP; New York Times: 28 June 42, p. 22; 27 June 1942, p. 1; 6 November 1942, p. 19; Blum & Smyth, “Who Should Serve,” p. 401. 67. See Flynn, Mess, pp. 11–20. 68. New York Times: 3 November 1942, p. 1; 24 November 1942, p. 16; 6 December 1942, p. 1; Flynn, Mess, pp. 30–35; and chapter 10. 69. See George Q. Flynn, “Draft Farmers in World War II,” in John Wunder, ed., Home on the Range (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1985), pp. 157–174. 70. U.S. Bureau of the Census, Historical Statistics of the United States: Colonial Times to 1970, 2 pts. (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1975), pt. 2, p. 1143. 71. New York Times, 15 February 1943, p. 22. 72. Ibid., 19 May 1943, p. 11. 73. Ibid., 5 August 1943, p. 8. 74. W. J. Rorabaugh, “Who Fought for the North in the Civil War,” Journal of American History 73 (December 1986): 699. During the American Civil War one survey of a Northern community shows the draft operated to ensure that men without property served at a much higher rate than men with property, and men with professional skills served less than unskilled men. The 20th-century draft operated the same way, despite the admonitions about protecting the economy. 75. Mapheus Smith, “The Differential Impact of Selective Service Inductions on Occupations in the United States,” American Sociological Review (October 1946): 567–572. 76. See Richard Polenberg, War and Society: The United States, 1941–1945 (New York: Lippincott, 1972), chap. 8, for a discussion of the OWM. 77. See New York Times, 22 October 1943, p. 12. 78. FDR memo to McNutt and Hershey, 16 February 1944, VF320x5, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle, Pa. (hereafter cited as LBH). 79. See item 5317, reel 360, April 1944, GCM for this affair.

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80. George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion, 1935–1971, 3 vols. (New York: Random House, 1972), I: 234, 251, 363, 407, 431, 448, 486; New York Times, 18 April 1943, p. 40. See Flynn, Mess, chap. 4. 81. Marshall to Byrnes, 6 April 1944, GCM, SS, reel 116, item 271; Byrnes to Stimson, 19 December 1944, ibid., reel 360, item 5317; Stimson to Byrnes, 23 December 1944, ibid. 82. Study of effect of regulations by draft to control labor turnover, 18 April 1945, LBH, VF320S18, R&S memo; Hershey to Stimson, 19 April 1945, GCM, SS, reel 360, item 5317; MG Joe N. Dalton to Chief of Staff, 4 May 1945, ibid.; Stimson to Fred Visnon, OWMR, 30 May 1945, ibid. 83. John W. Snyder, WM&B, to Sec. of War, 31 December 1945, GCM, SS, reel 360, item 5317. 84. Arthur M. Hill, chair, NSRB, to Truman, 24 March 1948, HST, OF 245, Box 844; Truman to Hill, 1 April 1948, McGrath Papers, Box 18, MOB, HST; Truman to Hill, 5 April 1948, OF 245, Box 844, ibid. 85. Martin V. Coffey to President, 10 February 1950, OF 440, Box 1288, HST. 86. J. F. Cassidy memo for Adm. McCrea, 9 August 1950, Ent 66, 327.02, RG 330, NA; Selective Service Newsletter, June 1952, p. 3. 87. U.S. Department of Labor news release, 7 May 1951, RG 330, ent. 66, 327.02, NA; Memo Rosenberg to Chair, AF Regional Council, 24 November 1952, ibid. ent. 66,327.02; Carl A. Frische to Hershey, 26 June 1953, RG 330, OASD, 327.22; EO, 27 June 1952, OF 440, Box 1288, HST; W. M. Flowers to John R. Steelman, 19 September 1952, OF 245, Box 852, HST; Special survey, 31 October 1953, R&S memo, sample survey, 30 January 1954, LBH; SS Statistics, vol. III, pt. E, SS and Specialized Personnel, 31 March 1960, RG 147, Box 3, R&S reports, NA. 88. Selective Service, Research and Statistics memo on II-C, 26 December 1951, VF 321S11, LBH; Selective Service System, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1952 (Washington, D.C.: USGPO, 1953), pp. 9, 26; Selective Service, Research and Statistics Sample Survey, 25 November 1953, LBH; Selective Service System, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1954 (Washington, D.C.: USGPO, 1955), p. 20. 89. Statistics, vol. III, pt. E, SS and Specialized Personnel, 31 March 1960, RG 147–97, Box 3, R&S report, NA. 90. Vietnam buildup, 7 August 1965, p. 25; Business Week, 26 February 1966, p. 44. 91. Business Week, 26 February 1966, p. 44; Historical Statistics of the United States, pt. II, p. 1143. 92. Clipping, Thomas B. Curtis, “Conscription and Commitment,” in Box 14, Anderson ﬁle, WHCF, Richard M. Nixon Presidential Project, Alexandria, Va. (hereafter cited as RMN). 93. On the difﬁculty of economic analysis of military preparedness, see Rainer Schickele & Glenn Everett, “The Economic Implications of Universal Military Training,” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 241 (September 1945): 102; Paul Weinstein, “Comments on Papers by Altman, Fechter, and Oi,” American Economic Review, Papers and Proceedings (1 May 1967): 65; James Burk, “Debating the Draft in America,” Armed Forces and Society 15 (Spring 1989): 441; Anthony C. Fisher, “The Cost of the Draft and the Cost of Ending the

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Draft,” American Economics Review 59(3) (1969): 240; Anderson ﬁle, 1 January 1970, Box 14, WHCF, RMN. 94. Maurice Faivre, Les Nations arme´es de la guerre des peuples a` la guerre des e´toiles (Paris: FEDN, 1988), pp. 114–115. 95. Robert Gildea, France since 1945 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 87; Maurice Larkin, France since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936–1986 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), pp. 2–5. 96. Robert A. Doughty, The Seeds of Disaster: The Development of French Army Doctrine, 1919–1939 (Hamden, Conn.: Archon, 1985), pp. 113, 120. 97. Larkin, France, pp. 6–7; Faivre, Les Nations, p. 111. 98. Faivre, Les Nations, pp. 108, 110, 114; Doughty, Seeds, p. 183; Elizabeth Kier, Imagining War: French and British Military Doctrine between the Wars (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997), p. 48. 99. Richard D. Challener, The French Theory of the Nation in Arms, 1866– 1939 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955), p. 92. 100. Pres. de cons. Min. de Def. Nat. to CG, 24 March 1939, Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV), 9n169, doss. 8; Pres. du cons. min. of DN to CGs, 17 January 1939, ibid.; Eugenia C. Kiesling, Arming against Hitler: France and the Limits of Military Planning (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1996), p. 38; Bullock, Bevin, p. 43. 101. Larkin, France, p. 95; Gildea, France, p. 8. 102. Larkin, France, p. 176; Gildea, France, pp. 87, 92, 105. 103. Guy Desplanques and Jean-Claude Chesnais, “Les Vicissitudes de la fe´condite´,” in Histoire de la population franc¸aise (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1988), pp. 287–344; Michel L. Martin, Warriors to Managers: The French Military Establishment since 1945 (Chapel Hill: Univeristy of North Carolina Press, 1981), p. 133. 104. E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre (EMAT), Le Service national (e´dition me´thodique) (Paris: Ministre`re des Arme´es, BO des Armees, 1 June 1968), pp. 13, 116, 118, 121; Service d’Inforation et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es, e´cole Militaire, Paris (hereafter cited as SIRPA) /MD doss. 1, 24 November 1994; E´tude des cara. psy. jeunes agic. et ﬁls d’agric., 1970, MACV, SCdR, 24t14 EMAT; Resume of interesting measures taken by Min. of War in national def. since November 1929, MACV, 5n581–1a; Min. de AR to Reg. Dirs de Recruit., re mines, 23 December 1946, MACV, SCdR, 24t1 EMAT; Note for Dirs. Region du Recrut., 24 April 1947, ibid. 105. Fiche on rejuvenating the contingent, 16 May 1955, MACV, 6t296, EMAT, 1oBur/EG; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 856. 106. E´tude d’un echant. representatif de la pop. des jeunes gens . . . , 1 June 1969, MACV, SCdR, 24t14 EMAT. 107. Quote in Georges Vincent, “La Contribution des arme´es a` la lutte contre le choˆmage et a` la formation professionnelle,” De´fense nationale (October 1983): 170. 108. Gilbert Koenig, “Affectation des ressources et Syste`me de conscription en France,” Revue e´conomie 24(1) (1973): 62, 67–68, 106, 108; Martin, Warrior, p. 132. 109. M. Jacques Lautman, memo, 12 February 19091, SIRPA NS ﬁles. 110. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 856; Vincent, “La Contribution,”

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pp. 170–171; Press release by Min. de Def., 12 October 1994, SIRPA, doss. 1; Leotard statement, 5 October 1994, Bulletin Quot., ibid. 111. Vincent, “La Contribution,” p. 171; ﬁle 6758, SIRPA/actual-38, 18 October 1993; Guy-Michel Chauveau, Le Service national: Rapport au ministe`re de la De´fense (Paris: La Documentation Franc¸aise, 1990), pp. 20, 22–23, 25, 26, 58. 112. SIRPA, SN, doss. 1, 5 October 1990; Chauveau, Le Service National, pp. 24, 57; Vincent, “La Contribution,” p. 170.

Chapter 10

Conscience and the Draft As one of the institutions of the modern state at war, conscription inﬁltrated almost every aspect of the nation. The various regulations about age, education, health, and training all had implications for the larger society. The family felt the impact of conscription not merely through the induction of young married males but, in England, through the draft of single females. Not even the churches were immune to the operations. But in dealing with religious sensibilities the draft systems of France, Britain, and the United States diverged in approach. Fundamentally, the purpose of conscription is to have young men take up arms and kill the enemy. Throughout history some young men have refused this burden. The rejection of war became part of the ofﬁcial doctrine of several churches, including the Quakers and Brethren. Such a doctrine ensured a clash between the claims of the state and the claims of conscience. Although seemingly an intractable problem, by the 20th century the three democracies had arranged a partial accommodation with churches. The state recognized the role of religion by offering exemptions to certiﬁed ministers and deferments to seminary students. In exchange, the churches provided chaplain service for the armed forces and helped rally the nation for war by blessing planes and tanks. But members of churches that espoused paciﬁsm as ofﬁcial teaching had to be handled in a different way. THE UNITED STATES As part of its Judeo-Christian heritage the United States acknowledged the role of conscience and religious impulses and paid respect even during

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war. Among Western industrialized states the United States ranks high in church attendance, belief in God, and a system of eternal reward and punishment. Public ﬁgures never tire of reminding the public that the motto on the money is “In God we Trust.” When draftees reported to local boards in Chicago in 1941, they were handed prayer books. As late as the 1990s a struggle continued to keep prayer in public schools.1 With such a heritage it was unsurprising that the nation’s draft laws offered due respect for religion and conscience. Ministers received exemptions and seminary students deferments. But the nation went beyond this to give some recognition to antiwar conscience. Beginning with the colonial militia laws, there was a recognition of an exemption for Quakers. The Conscription Act of 1917 required registration of all eligible males, but offered CO status to members in recognized peace churches. This group included Quakers, Mennonites, Brethren, and Friends. Such men could still be drafted but, if accepted by the armed forces, were allowed to perform noncombat duty. If the man refused, he was subject to court-martial and imprisonment.2 This arrangement failed to account for the many paciﬁsts who were not members of the peace churches. By December 1917, draft boards began offering CO classiﬁcation to those who made the claim based on individual conscience. If they refused noncombat assignment, they could be given alternate work in hospitals. By the end of the war 56,830 men had been designated as COs. Some 21,000 entered the service for noncombat duty. Although the CO represented only a small fraction of the 3 million men drafted, he caused a disproportionate amount of confusion in the draft apparatus.3 The problems reappeared in 1940. The draft bill prepared by the Joint Army Navy Selective Service Committee followed the 1917 precedent of recognizing members of established peace churches but proposed handling COs before their induction. Those willing to serve in noncombat jobs were given I-A-O classiﬁcation, and those who refused all military duty were classiﬁed I-O. Local draft boards were to determine these designations.4 The paciﬁst leaders in the United States sought to modify these arrangements. Leaders such as Paul Comly French and Raymond Wilson argued to Selective Service ofﬁcials that individual conscience rather than church membership should be the focus for classiﬁcation. Paciﬁsts also wanted more recognition of the absolute position, the person who refused all service: combat, noncombat, civilian. But government ofﬁcials insisted on some religious connection for any claim and also denied the right to anyone to be selective about his paciﬁsm.5 Yet in its ﬁnal form the law was more tolerant than in 1917. State and presidential boards were created within Selective Service to act on appeals. The basis of initial classiﬁcation remained some form of “religious training and belief,” but church member-

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ship was not required. COs who refused noncombat service had to do alternate work or face imprisonment.6 The procedure began when an individual registered for the draft and indicated an objection based on conscience. The local board provided additional forms for elaboration of causes and motives. As the members of local boards were untrained in theological and ethical niceties and saw their primary mission as ﬁnding soldiers, claims were difﬁcult to sustain at the ﬁrst instance. The boards ﬁrst preferred to defer such men based on occupation or family status before even considering an I-O or I-AO. Obtaining such status without membership in a paciﬁst church proved difﬁcult until the director of Selective Service pressed the idea of “judgment of individual conscience.” The Justice Department also insisted that the term “religious belief” might “include all shades of opinion and conviction, ranging from denial of God to adherence to dogmas.”7 National headquarters fought an unending battle to have local boards accept as the norm the sincerity of convictions, rather than commitment to a creed. Determining a person’s religious sincerity was a difﬁcult chore at any time but proved particularly wrenching during war. Local board members were acutely aware that for every man excused, another mother’s son had to go forward to ﬁght and perhaps die. Boards thus sought ﬁrm guidelines from national headquarters on how to deﬁne religious training and belief. General Hershey replied that the issue was “too fundamental to try to lay down guides by which to test.” Be liberal, he urged them. If a man had a record of being against all war before being called up, he might be given the classiﬁcation, regardless of his religion or lack thereof.8 Despite Hershey’s admonitions, local board members proved a formidable obstacle to a CO classiﬁcation. Fortunately, an appeal system existed to mitigate injustice. If rejected at the local level, a draftee could appeal to a state board, which also meant an automatic hearing before an ofﬁcial of the Justice Department more conversant with the law. If the state appeal board rejected the appeal, the man could appeal to a presidential board, initially staffed by military ofﬁcers. This ﬁnal board proved the most liberal. It adopted the position that “if a man’s experience in the world leads him to a sincere conviction that he may not . . . participate in war, it cannot be maintained that his conviction is invalid because he arrived at it along other than accepted and deﬁned paths of religious training.”9 The law required, for those opposed to noncombat service, some alternate service. The president was supposed to specify work of national importance, and the Selective Service System (SSS) began organizing camps for about 12,000 COs. This Civilian Public Service (CPS) program eventually ran 151 camps, many sponsored by church groups but run by government agencies under the direction of the SSS. Most of the work was marginal manual labor: soil conservation, forestry, or other outdoor jobs. The CO spent the duration of the war plus six months in such camps,

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without pay. Another 5,000 COs accepted prison terms in lieu of performing such alternate service.10 From the state’s point of view the program was successful. Over 31 million men had been registered and 10 million inducted. There had been some 361,000 cases of suspected delinquency but only 15,758 convictions, of which less than half—some 6,000—were COs. About 25,000 COs served in noncombat roles and 12,000 worked in the camps.11 In the postwar period American conscription operated at a very low level. In such circumstances the CO was granted an excuse from all service. But when North Korea invaded South Korea in June 1950, the objector problem reappeared. The 1951 draft law again provided that objectors who refused noncombat assignment should be assigned to work of national importance by their local boards.12 Seeking to avoid a repetition of the CPS, General Hershey created a new system. Once recognized as a CO, a man could himself come up with three alternate work assignments, of which the board would select one for a twoyear assignment. Pay was provided by the employer, usually a hospital or other health program. Local boards automatically gave any claimant a hearing on this classiﬁcation. When a man took an alternate job he had to move away from home and was entitled to the going pay rate. If he refused to take any job, he was prosecuted.13 By ﬁscal year 1955 some 3,277 men were engaged and another 2,500 had ﬁnished their tours. On a percentage basis, the rate of objection was about the same as during World War II.14 This procedure for handling COs remained workable until the Vietnam War, which placed a new burden on the system in general and the CO arrangements in particular. With antiwar protest growing and as the line between paciﬁsts and protesters blurred, existing arrangements proved inadequate. Some men wished to claim CO status while objecting only to the current conﬂict, but selective objection was prohibited by the law. Old paciﬁst organizations were swamped with new converts. In 1967 Martin Luther King advocated that his young followers seek such a status.15 The Vietnam War revealed a basic incongruity in the system of handling COs. The focus in a board determining CO status was an examination of conscience, but conscience was intrinsically particular and individualistic. The logic of the situation pointed to recognizing selective objection. By 1969 most main-line churches had accepted this position but not the government or the courts.16 In fact, the courts only added to the confusion. The Supreme Court had broadened the deﬁnition of conscientious objector in U.S. v. Seeger in 1965. The need to believe in a “Supreme Being,” as stated in the 1948 law, was modiﬁed. The plaintiff, an agnostic, argued that his personal ethical creed should qualify him, and the Court agreed. The Court deﬁned both “Supreme Being” and “religious training” so that any comparable belief system, not just traditional religion, was qualifying. Distinguishing between personal, political, and philosophical views and re-

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ligious views became almost impossible.17 The ofﬁcial line remained that opposing a particular war was a political position and disqualifying. Yet the major determinant remained the sincerity of the individual rather than the letter of the law.18 As war protest increased, more and more candidates for CO status appeared. But this trend proved more an annoyance than a threat to draft operations. In the nine-year period from 1964 to June 1973 the draft provided 2,338,819 men to induction centers. Some 1,918,364 were inducted, which covered all army calls. About 144,807 men were classiﬁed as I-O and another 70,550 took civilian work jobs. Only 10 out of every 10,000 registrants in 1970 were COs.19 Since 1917 there had been a progressive liberalization of recognition and treatment. The nation moved from a narrow peace-church membership to a broad deﬁnition that included agnostics and atheists. Initially, the military handled the CO, but then it became the responsibility of the Selective Service to create work camps. Finally, the man was offered alternate work of his own choice. This evolution seems consistent with the experience of other Western nations.20 Still, as Raymond Wilson of the Society of Friends admitted, “there is no satisfactory solution for the problem of conscience under conscription—only a series of more or less unsatisfactory accommodations.”21

GREAT BRITAIN Like Americans, the British paid homage to organized religion and conscience in draft laws.22 Both nations provided for the exemption of clergy and deferment of seminary students, and both created a system for recognizing conscience as a means of avoiding service. Yet the two systems were quite different in principle and operation. British society was more homogeneous than American society. His Majesty’s government (HMG) did not have to face the complicating issues of race, class, and regionalism that existed in America. But the British did face a tradition of dissenting religious organizations, some of them with paciﬁst principles. The Church of England represented the majority, but in rural areas dissenting groups were strong. Most claims for deferment for conscience came, proportionately, from Methodists, Quakers, and then Anglicans.23 The British attitude toward the CO showed a progressive liberalization from World War I through the Cold War. Paciﬁst groups, allied with the National Council against Conscription, worked in opposition to the adoption of conscription in 1916. Although the draft law did recognize a CO claim, the local tribunals that passed upon applications were very unsympathetic. When paciﬁsts resisted, the government reacted with attempts at

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repression, including police raids on the Friends Service Committee and the Fellowship of Reconciliation.24 By the time of World War II both the public and the government had adopted a more moderate attitude. A public opinion poll in November 1939 found 81 percent of respondents supporting pay for COs in alternate work assignments. Although the National Peace Council and other paciﬁsts groups opposed the adoption of conscription in 1939 as an “unwarranted” infringement on individual conscience, the government was able to satisfy many by recognizing the right of an unconditional exemption for conscience in the law, a step never taken in America.25 Both Neville Chamberlain and his successor Winston Churchill expressed a tolerant attitude toward the CO. After meeting with Chamberlain in May 1939, Dr. Sidney Berry, a church leader, assured his coreligionists that the government promised no repetition of the World War I scene. In his remarks to the Commons the same month, Chamberlain recalled his own service on a World War I tribunal and insisted that “it was both a useless and an exasperating waste of time and effort to attempt to force such people to act in a manner which was contrary to their principles.” He called for respect for even the absolutists, who refused all service. On 20 March 1941 the new prime minister, Winston Churchill, reiterated this position. “The rights,” said Churchill, “which have been granted in this war to the conscientious objectors are well-known and are a deﬁnite part of British policy. Anything in the nature of victimization or man hunting is odious to the British people.”26 Both the militia act and the conscription law of 1939 made provisions for registering a CO. The man called notiﬁed the registration ofﬁcials that he claimed this status under one of three categories: objecting to being registered for military training, to undergoing such training, or to performing combat duty. He was then registered provisionally on the CO register. Next, he appeared before the local CO tribunal, which considered evidence and heard witnesses, as a prelude to either permanent registration as a CO or removal from the provisional register. If removed, he was remanded to the draft apparatus for normal processing. If a man refused to even apply for CO status, but the local ofﬁcials considered him eligible, the government could refer him to the tribunal without his permission. If he continued to refuse to appear, he could be registered as ﬁt for noncombat duties or unconditionally at the local tribunal’s discretion. Continued refusal to comply led to prosecution with a resulting ﬁne or prison sentence.27 The local tribunals consisted of ﬁve civilians, headed by a sheriff or county judge. A representative of organized labor was a member, and several tribunals also contained representatives from peace churches. If a woman CO appeared, the board had to have a female member. The board had several options: Register the man unconditionally, require that he do civilian work, make him liable for call-up for noncombat duty, or reject

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his application and remove him from the CO list. If a man was dissatisﬁed with the classiﬁcation made by the local tribunal, he had the right to appeal to an Appeals Tribunal, one for England and Wales and another for Scotland.28 Like the local draft boards in the United States, the British tribunals found that determining sincere objection was a difﬁcult task. The British law provided that it was the sole responsibility of the local and appeal tribunal to interpret the word “conscientious.” The decisions by these tribunals were given a statutory exemption from judicial review. If warranted, the MLNS could make a positive or negative representation to the tribunals.29 The tribunal members complained at their difﬁcult task. One local ofﬁcial wrote to the minister that “we have . . . the none too congenial duty of ﬁnding out if the applicant is conscientious and genuine. It is hardly conceivable that a man can be a CO at large; there must be what one may call an object that evokes his conscientious objection.” Parliament had granted the right to absolute objection, allowing a man to escape all duty. But the local tribunal had to satisfy itself that such an objection “is genuinely based on conscience and not on a mere dislike of all that is involved in leaving job, and home.” If satisﬁed, the tribunal could and did grant unconditional status.30 Uniformity of action became impossible. Regional disparities appeared from the beginning, especially on the issues of unconditional exemption. By May 1940 London tribunals had offered only 2 percent unconditionally, whereas in southwest Scotland the percentage rose to 25. The ministry refused to impose national uniformity because the law had speciﬁcally granted the responsibility of deﬁning “conscience objection” to local tribunals. By 1942 the appeals tribunals had reversed or varied the action of the local tribunal in one-third of all cases, with the overall trend being toward greater recognition of conscience.31 In an effort to achieve more uniformity by appellate tribunals, the MLNS in early 1940 began sending out precedent information on past cases. The variety of cases, however, made this of marginal value.32 For example, Gerald Henderson was registered provisionally as a CO, but when the local tribunal of Durham took up the case in January 1940, it heard from witnesses that Hendeson used “foul language” and had announced he planned to join the Jehovahs’ Witnesses to avoid service. The tribunal removed him from the CO list, and the appeal was dismissed by the appellate tribunal.33 In another case, Derek E. Cox explained to his tribunal that he had “a profound dislike of violence which is contrary to my nature and temperament, and an abhorrence of the killing, injury and destruction of war.” Cox opposed nationalism and patriotism and saw the war as just one power against another. The tribunal disliked his views but found them genuine and granted his request to noncombat duties.34

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Throughout the war there was a steady increase in men claiming CO status, but the range of decisions remained rather constant. By the end of January 1940, 6,076 cases had been considered by local tribunals. Of this total some 14 percent had been granted unconditional status, 45 percent were registered conditionally with a civilian job required, 24 percent were entered into the military for noncombat duty, and 17 percent had been rejected. By April 1942 the total had grown to 49,102, with 5.2 percent unconditional, 37 percent for civil jobs, 29 percent for noncombat, and 28 percent removed from the CO list. In June 1945 the total was 59,192, with 6.2 percent unconditional, 48.4 percent required to do civil work, 24.2 percent for noncombat duty and 21.2 percent removed from the list.35 The law required that men who refused military duty, unless registered unconditionally, must submit to alternate work of national importance. But the objector was not to be given preference over a regular unemployed man, nor could he be paid at lower rates. It was the responsibility of the local tribunal to assign such work but the duty of the individual to ﬁnd it, although the government offered assistance through local employment exchanges.36 When a man failed in his effort, the local tribunal could consider a transfer to another region. The ministry advised that there was no desire to create a group of “pressed men,” which would hurt a particular industry. It was even permissible to give an objector a student deferment if he was in training for a position of national importance, provided he promised to take up such a job upon graduation.37 Finding jobs could have been easier if the government had accepted the aid offered by various Christian paciﬁst groups. But the ministry refused such an offer on the grounds that it had a religious bias. Also, the urban and educated character of the objector frequently precluded effective work in agriculture, which had the greatest need. The government refused to provide training for such work, and many farmers were biased against hiring COs. The farmer objected to replacing a trained man taken by the forces with such unskilled types.38 Despite these difﬁculties, the system worked. At the beginning of the war about 40 percent of those initially registered as COs were listed as entitled to alternate work. About half of these had to ﬁnd new jobs. Of the total assigned to land work, some two-thirds managed to ﬁnd it. This ﬁgure was high because of the elastic deﬁnition given by the ministry to acceptable land work. Some men did market gardening or poultry raising or worked with farm relatives and friends. They were aided by ﬁnancial assistance from paciﬁsts organizations. By 31 March 1945 some 8,000 men and almost 200 women were working on the land. Some 14,500 were in other types of alternate work, such as hospital, coal mining, and army relief.39 More troublesome were the cases of men drafted for noncombat in the armed forces. By early February 1940 some 15,000 army men were registered provisionally as COs. About 7,800 had appeared before tribunals,

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and some 1,897 were posted to the army in noncombat jobs.40 A civilian CO assigned to alternate work that turned out to be war work could be reassigned, but the problem was more complex when a man was enlisted for noncombat duty and then found himself in warlike activities. Even more troublesome were those men not registered as COs, who claimed such a status after being enrolled in the armed forces. The military had trouble with both the declared CO who was registered for noncombat assignments and the newly converted CO. The law stated clearly that it was the responsibility of the Admiralty, the army, and the Air Councils to ensure men registered for noncombat did in fact serve in such capacities. The War Ofﬁce warned that it could not promise a particular assignment, but the CO was allowed to express a preference for either the Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC), the Royal Army Pay Corps (RAPC), or the Dental Corps. But there were limits to how many could be taken and problems with deﬁning noncombat duty. Men who volunteered for the RAMC sometimes found the unit transferred to a combat zone. By 18 May 1940 the War Ofﬁce had to create a noncombat corps for COs. The RAMC continued to take a select few, but no more were to be posted to the RAPC.41 In wartime, consistent postings proved difﬁcult. Deﬁning noncombat duty was erratic. Some COs in the navy served on armed trawlers and mine sweepers. Local CO tribunals began hearing of such inconsistencies and joined paciﬁst groups in calling for an investigation. In other cases COs complained that although individual duties were noncombat, the cumulative effect was direct aid to the war. For example, one CO unit was ordered to build blockades and strong points, machine gun nests, and sand bag protection for aircraft ammo.42 Military authorities saw nothing wrong with such duties, but the head of one local tribunal admitted that such duties were noncombat, but felt they were against the spirit of the regulations. He called for more precise deﬁnitions of noncombat work.43 Other problems arose with men who failed to obtain a CO classiﬁcation for noncombat but who asserted such a right in the ranks. This group was divided between those who had applied for such status but had been refused and those who had never applied. The War Ofﬁce proposed to deal with men who had tried but failed to obtain CO status by warning them upon induction of the consequences of refusal to cooperate. If the man refused an order, he was ﬁrst given a warning, but on the next offense he was subject to court-martial. According to the conscription act, if the court rendered a punishment of three months or more imprisonment and the man claimed conscience as a motive for his action, he was entitled to reappear before the CO appeal tribunal to reargue his case. If he succeeded in then being designated CO for noncombat duty, he was returned to the military for such a reassignment. If he again failed to convince the tribunal, he was

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returned to the military for normal disposition. If he refused all military service, he went to prison.44 A man who had not sought CO status before induction, however, was not entitled to appear before the CO tribunal. The War Ofﬁce refused to allow the man a transfer to a noncombat unit as a result of his conversion. He was tried in military court.45 Unfortunately, this left the military court in the uncomfortable position of judging a man’s sincerity of conscience. The War Ofﬁce sought to avoid this situation and appealed to the MLNS for help. C. G. Dennys of the MLNS suggested that the military just transfer such men to noncombat units, but the War Ofﬁce considered this dangerous and open to abuse.46 The secretary of state for war was sensitive to criticism that military ofﬁcials were judging the sincerity of conscience of individuals. Such actions had been taken in World War I and had been condemned by peace groups. As a solution the MLNS decided to unofﬁcially allow the use of appeal tribunals as advisory boards to the secretary, provided the CO agreed. This procedure was not without risk, however. New COs had been deliberately excluded from such a right under the draft law because it was considered too inviting for malingerers. Furthermore, in dealing with such new men there were limited options. They could only be left in their present situation, transferred to noncombat groups, or given an absolute discharge. Since only a few men were involved, the military favored this last option. Such men were not “desirable elements in the forces” and more trouble than they were worth.47 During the entire war, only 127 men were prosecuted for offenses that involved claims of conscience. Yet peace groups were upset at the government’s actions. In a deputation to the secretary of state for war in early 1942 the peace lobby charged that the military disregarded claims of conscience. Apparently some men who had claimed but failed to obtain CO status had been shipped overseas as soon as possible. In other cases the military had prevented appeals by responding to offenses based on conscience with prison terms of less than three months. Also, the peace groups resented the distinction in treatment available to men who had not made a claim before induction.48 Bizarre cases abounded. A Private Wyatt admitted that he “deliberately went to camp with the intention of committing a court martial offense and thus appearing before a tribunal.” But the commanding ofﬁcer refused to execute the 112 day sentence rendered by the court because he thought the system “basically wrong.”49 Stanley Hilton, a Jehovah’s Witness, obtained a provisional rating as a CO in February 1940 but was removed by the tribunal in June. After posting to the Royal Artillery, he was courtmartialed and sentenced to one year, where he again appealed to the tribunal. On 20 December he was again denied by the tribunal and returned to the service. Another offense followed by a new sentence of two years

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led to another appeal with the same results. By October 1942 he was still serving a term of 15 months of hard labor in Leeds prison. A fourth application ﬁnally went to a new tribunal, which recommended his discharge and conditional registration as a CO. Such cases of repeated offenses, appeals, rejections, returns, and reoffenses happened on several occasions.50 The entire process seemed a waste of time and money. What was the point of repeatedly sentencing, appealing, and reassigning men who were worthless to the military? By December 1942 the War Ofﬁce adopted a policy that after three rejections by an appeal tribunal the man would be discharged, although he still had to serve his prison term. To avoid any appearance of catering to slackers, the War Ofﬁce kept this new policy secret. Conﬁdentially, P. J. Griggs of the MLNS agreed that the best policy was to release the man as no longer required. As a civilian, the man fell again under the powers of the ministry and could be assigned to war work. If he refused, he could again be prosecuted in civil court. Finally, after three years of war, the military had a policy for COs.51 In 1945 a scheme of demobilization unfolded for the troops. The controls over the civilian economy also were eased. The National Service (Release of COs) Act received Royal Assent on 26 March 1946. It allowed for the release of such men under terms similar to those devised for the armed forces, based on age and time of service. Men who served overseas, especially in ambulance units, were given special treatment. The bill implied that men in civilian jobs under the Control of Engagement Orders would be released only to ﬁnd other jobs of national importance, but the conditional release was later revised to provide total freedom.52 Throughout the war Britain had proved liberal in its treatment of COs. The United States had registered some 28 million men and provided CO status to only 37,000. Britain had mobilized about one-third as many men (8.5 million) but accepted almost twice as many COs (62,301). Only Britain had offered the right to an absolute deferment for reasons of conscience. In contrast, France rejected the very idea of exempting men for reasons of conscience.53 During the Cold War, Britain maintained a conscription system like the United States and again provided for men who had objections of conscience. The system was very similar to that established during World War II. Local tribunals considered men with such a claim. Appeals went to separate tribunals for that purpose. Men could be registered conditionally for noncombat or alternate civilian work or unconditionally. The two-year or 18-month term of service was the same as a regular draftee or national service man, with the exception that the regular soldier was also obligated for four years of reserve duty. Men who failed to appear were subject to two years in jail and/or a £100 ﬁne. If a man developed a crisis of conscience while on foreign active duty, he was offered a chance to purchase his release as opposed to imprisonment.54

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The general procedure for handling the men remained much the same. Although the ministry sent suggestions, the boards continued to act more or less as they chose. This meant that there was considerable inconsistency from one board to another. Some local tribunals continued to assume that only an objection to all wars qualiﬁed a man, but others allowed objection to particular wars. Political objections were seldom accepted, and a heavy bias toward religious objectors was manifested. Jehovah’s Witnesses continued to receive the brunt of punishment. Representatives of peace organizations pleaded in vain for the dissemination of appeal tribunal decisions to guide local tribunals.55 FRANCE Both Great Britain and the United States tried to conscript with due regard for individual conscience and for the role of organized religion. In contrast, France adopted a less congenial posture. “The eldest daughter” of the Catholic Church had become a rigorously secular state. Although ofﬁcially over 90 percent Catholic in religion, most French citizens took their religion as they took their government—with a high degree of skepticism and indifference. The idea of conscientious objection to war had little standing in a France created by the revolution of 1789. Scholars have explained the nonrecognition by pointing to cultural and historical differences with both the United States and Britain. In these latter states Protestantism, with its emphasis on individual conscience before God, has been the major religious impulse. In contrast, Catholic France has been accustomed to the idea of a conscience directed by an institutional hierarchy. The Catholic Church had a well-developed theory of just war, which emphasized the responsibility of the individual to give due homage to informed authority on participating in defense of the state. In both Britain and the United States, Catholics were a very small minority of all COs.56 In addition, the French Revolution legitimized the state as embodying the highest principles of citizenship. To claim allegiance to a higher authority was to question the legitimacy of the state and the civic religion that it embodied. French political theorists always looked askance at the atomistic, individualistic concepts of citizenship in the Anglo-Saxon countries or the idea of individuals placing their private conscience above that of the national community.57 Despite the different culture and political theory, France had some experience with the principle of paciﬁsm. In 1793 the Committee of Public Safety responded to an appeal from a group of Anabaptists who claimed their beliefs prohibited the bearing of arms. The committee recommended to the Convention that it “use the Anabaptists with the same softness that characterizes their character, prohibiting that they be persecuted and to accord to them the service that they request in the military.”58 The Con-

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vention in August 1793 adopted a resolution exempting from military duty “all citizens whose denomination and moral beliefs forbid the bearing of arms.” The policy lasted until the Restoration of 1815 but then disappeared until after World War I.59 This conﬂict, which led to the deaths of one-fourth of all French males under the age of 30, generated a surge of paciﬁsm in its wake. Almost every French family suffered at least one loss. Several branches of Protestant peace churches grew in membership. French intellectuals also began to ﬁnd such ideas congenial. In 1920 a Committee of Defense of Conscientious Objection was created to promote recognition of this right in French law. Although followed by a larger League for Recognition of Conscientious Objection, the movement met resistance from the government. When such a right was introduced in the French Assembly in 1931, it was tabled. In 1934 the government acted to dissolve the League because of its campaign against current conscription law. The next year, after Germany reintroduced conscription, a small paciﬁst protest arose among student teachers and trade union leaders against the revival of two-year duty in France.60 The government, nevertheless, continued to ignore any claims of exemption based on conscience or religious scruples. Despite this attitude, a few Frenchmen refused to serve. They ended up in jail, treated as insubordinates or rebels under military law. After the German defeat of France in 1940, little more was heard of the issue. But once the war ended, several developments brought the problem back to public attention. The conduct of the European war—genocide, bombing of civilians, and collaboration with the enemy—became the focus of an examination of conscience in several countries, especially France. One of the consequences of the unprecedented manifestation of mass killing was a religious revival and stress on the responsibility of individuals to disobey orders that violated their conscience.61 Led by the Reformed Church of France and other Protestant groups, churchmen began to acknowledge the legitimacy of the CO position. Soon left-wing political groups, unions, and the League of Human Rights joined the campaign. Paciﬁsts such as Louis Lecoin and his journal Liberte´ publicized the cause. Lecoin and Emile Veran advocated an alternate service for COs rather than demanding total exemption from all obligations. A bill providing such an option appeared in the National Assembly in 1949 but got nowhere. By 1952 a strange coalition of Socialists, Communists, and Christian Democrats began supporting a bill offering amnesty to those men imprisoned for assuming a CO posture. The bill passed the National Assembly in 1953 but was defeated in the Senate. In 1958 the government accepted a bill offering the CO service as paramedical personnel in parachute units and limiting the prison sentence for objectors to ﬁve years.62 The real breakthrough for the CO in France occurred because of the Algerian conﬂict. The army minister, Pierre Messmer, insisted to the press

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in 1960 that “this problem [COs] has never had in France the importance it could have in the Anglo-Saxon countries. This is why we have no special legislation in this regard.” He indicated there would be no solution offered until after the Algerian affair was resolved.63 What had sparked this statement was the growing dissatisfaction among French youth with service in this messy ﬁght. The conﬂict dragged on and involved atrocities on both sides, with torture becoming routine treatment for prisoners. The religious objector found his ranks swelled by men objecting to service on secular grounds, supported by French intellectuals. Antiwar and antimilitary radicals joined the ranks of objectors. Over 3,000 men deserted the ranks. Catholic draftees now quoted the encyclical “Pacem in Terris,” that conscience had to be respected. General Charles de Gaulle assumed control of the government in December 1958 and observed that treating COs as rebels and delinquents was “absurd.”64 Putting this new attitude into law required overcoming a strong tradition. In 1949 a national poll found that only 57 percent of the respondents had even heard of the conscientious objector. And of this group, some 34 percent had a negative opinion.65 As one general expressed it, the position of the CO was a “heresy” and reﬂected a desire to “trouer la peau,” save one’s skin. He suggested they move from France if they had no desire to share in its defense.66 As late as 1984 even among youth, the CO had an unfavorable image. Some 50 percent of youth asked thought them “idealists disconnected with reality,” and 19 percent “simpletons in the pay of Moscow.” Only 29 percent had a favorable view. Only 6 percent planned to request such a status, down from 13 percent in 1979.67 Such ﬁgures reﬂected the government’s success in marginalizing conscience in conscription. Before de Gaulle’s reforms the CO in France faced rather grim alternatives. Since there was no legal recognition of his status, his refusal to serve meant a prison term, or several terms if he continued to refuse. Historically men had avoided service by self-inﬂicted injury— cutting off a trigger ﬁnger being a popular choice in the 19th century.68 The objectors who arose with the Algerian conﬂict, however, preferred to accept prison terms. By the early 1960s some 500 youth were in prison or internment camps. Under the code of military justice they were subject to renewed punishment, although in 1958 the total term was limited to ﬁve years and in 1962 to three years.69 With the return of de Gaulle to power in 1960 some reform became possible. The general had expressed his dissatisfaction with the current arrangement but was hardly sympathetic to the needs of conscience. He explained that he wanted a law but did not want many objectors.70 Indeed, when the government introduced a bill in July 1963, there was little public interest. Raymond Aaron, a leading French intellectual, warned that one should not assume that the anticonscription generated by the Algerian war represented a rise in paciﬁst sentiment. Within the lower chamber there

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was considerable resistance to the measure. After several months of debate and the consideration of 40 amendments, the measure went to the Senate, where it met with uncompromising hostility. The idea that a man could put his conscience above duty to the country was inconceivable to this elite. Only by repeated efforts and parliamentary tricks did de Gaulle succeed on 11 December in passing his law.71 In contrast to the provisions found in British and American laws, the French measure was designed not to protect the CO but to discourage him. Oddly, the entire measure never once mentioned the idea of conscientious objection. Those who sought an exception from normal military service because of philosophical or religious beliefs were authorized to serve in a civil unit. Their tour of duty was twice as long as the normal draftee (32 months at this time), and the type of duty equally onerous, such as ﬁghting forest ﬁres. Another article speciﬁed that such a claim of exception made the youth ineligible for certain government jobs.72 To further afﬁrm their distaste for the entire enterprise, the legislators provided that it was an offense punishable by up to three years in prison for promoting the very idea. COs in and out of service were prohibited from meeting, promoting, or publicizing this opportunity. The law itself was thereby rendered exempt from publicity. In addition, if any man given an alternate duty violated the terms of his new assignment, he lost all privileges and was jailed and ﬁned.73 Compared to the United States the French system for COs was a mix of tolerance and severity. A man could claim such a status for either religious or philosophical beliefs, which was broader than the United States. He could seek alternate service in a noncombat role or in some civilian, public service job. The procedure for applying allowed him from 15 days to 30 days after registration to make a claim to the minister of defense. The minister could immediately grant the request, but if refused the man could apply to a Judicial Commission composed of seven male members, headed by a magistrate. Three military ofﬁcers were appointed by the minister of defense, and three civilians were named by the prime minister. The applicant offered evidence of his sincerity to this commission, which had the authority to make the ﬁnal decision and conducted its hearings in secret.74 Whether the procedure or the French culture was responsible, the result was a marginal CO system compared to those in Germany, Britain, and the United States. With the exception of the Algerian war, French youth seldom objected on grounds of conscience to military duty. They objected at the interruption to their careers, to wasting time, but not because of a religious or philosophical impediment. The annual average was only about 170 applicants from 1964 to 1970. Of those who applied, about 80 percent were approved by the judicial commission. By 1970 the numbers increased each year so that by 1979 there were 652 requests with 1,206 already serving. Each year thereafter the numbers grew, from 731 in 1980 to 1,861

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in 1989. From 1979 to 1990 a total of 28,593 COs were serving, and there were another 16,779 applications. The rejection rate remained about the same. For most of these years the number of applications did not reach 1 percent of the contingent being registered.75 Social and political motivation seems to have played an increasing role, especially during the Algerian war and afterward. During the 1960s the CO was usually above average in education and left-wing in politics. One study concluded that aside from the traditional religious objector the new CO was more asocial, more disengaged with society, more individualistic. By the 1980s the percentage of students in this group had declined from 36.4 percent in 1979 to 27.7 percent in 1981, with a decided increase among teachers. And motives now seemed more focused on moral issues of society rather than just individual concerns or political motives. As one objector put it, “The non-violence that I wish to live does not signify the absence of violence; it is ﬁrst a rejection of injustice.”76 Whatever their motivation, by the 1970s objectors began protesting their treatment. COs protested against the militarylike discipline to which they were subjected in alternate service jobs. They also wished more freedom in selecting an assignment. Finally, they clamored for more freedom to promote and publicize their ideas. In 1968, only 906 COs had rejected an alternate assignment and accepted a two-year jail term. By 1978 the number had grown to 3,969. Military desertions rose among men who had been denied a CO application. In 1968 there were 1,832 desertions; in 1978, 4,856. The movement began to ebb, however, by the end of the 1970s. The percentage of all COs who were classiﬁed as insubordinate or in rebellion dropped from 40 percent in 1981 to 19 percent in 1982, with a similar decline in desertions and requests for CO status.77 The inept operation of the system probably contributed to problems. When ﬁrst considering a law for COs one minister argued that this would allow France to follow the British example and get some decent work out of COs. Nothing could have been further from the mark. In contrast to the British regulations, the French code for the CO speciﬁed a tour twice as long as the regular draftee, insisted he be subjected to military discipline and bodily danger, and curtailed his right of expression. If a mobilization occurred the CO could be expected to be reassigned to either a noncombat unit or some other defense organization.78 Such harshness ensured problems. In a vain attempt to keep the new law of 1963 a secret, the government not only refrained from publishing it but also failed to provide the list of alternate jobs for which COs might be eligible. The government operated on the premise that keeping things very vague would ensure a minimum number of applicants. Ofﬁcially, the CO assignment was supposed to be some national service under the minister of

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the interior. This generally meant working as a ﬁreﬁghter in the south of France under harsh, militarylike discipline.79 Protest arose after a few years of this treatment. The bishop of Grenoble, Jean-Marc Vettier, complained that “the assignments of young objectors . . . to the O.N.F. [forest ﬁre ﬁghting] is explained without doubt by the wish to isolate the objectors in order to avoid the propaganda.” More and more COs simply refused the assignment and accepted punishment, which left the situation as it had been before the law of 1963. In an effort at reform the government began directing COs to the service of Public Health and Security, but physicians in the hospitals refused to accept the COs. By 1971 the public health option was dormant.80 In the decade of the 1970s the number of protesting COs rose, and the government moved ﬁrst to Social Aide and Cultural Affairs, then to private associations for work. By 1980 the CO could work just about anywhere. In July 1988 there were 4,518 COs in jobs. Some 1,656 were working with social vocation organizations, 1,434 were with youth and sports organizations, and only 186 remained in the forests. Approximately 35 percent were living at home while fulﬁlling the assignment. A few even worked in banks.81 The French difﬁculty in dealing with the CO sprang from the unreasonable fear that someone, somewhere, was getting away with something. One conservative in the National Assembly worried that “leftist intellectuals” would use the provision to weaken the military, national defense, and the idea of universal service. “Liberalism and equality, yes; disorder and demagoguery, no,” he announced. The initial idea of having a law but disguising it only ensured that the scheme remained vague and undeﬁned. As the Judicial Commission kept its decisions unpublicized, there developed no sense of precedent. Applicants complained that there was no consistency in the approval or rejection of claims for CO status. At one point, the COs simply began to copy verbatim the words of a successful application.82 In 1971 the government reformed national service and made a few changes in the CO system. The CO was offered a few more days in which to make his application. The provision that punished him with ineligibility for certain public jobs was removed. Now he was to be tried before a civilian rather than a military tribunal in the event of transgressions.83 Yet even these modest reforms provoked political opposition. When the number of COs continued to grow, the government of Georges Pompidou reacted with repression. In August 1972, a “Bre´ganc¸on decree” imposed military discipline on COs, required permission for any political statement, and prohibited anew any meetings or demonstrations in support of these ideals.84 Such repression only ensured additional problems. From 1972 to 1980 the number of COs in violation of the law grew from 32 to 59 percent, but in 1979 this still only represented about 2,300 men.85 Gradually, the government moved to liberalize the program by broad-

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ening the type of alternate assignments available. In 1983 and 1984 the Socialist government of Franc¸ois Mitterrand passed a series of decrees that made life easier for the CO. This was only one phase of a general attempt to turn military conscription into national service, with more civilian jobs becoming options for all conscripts. Although the CO was still required to do 24 months of service, or twice the regular military tour, he now had a choice of over 850 different jobs, many of them with private collective and social organizations, such as museums, ecology groups, schools, and cultural centers. He was also now free to publicize his beliefs after hours. Although under the administrative control of a civilian commission, his infractions were still governed by the same code of military justice that covered soldiers.86 By 1990 the political concerns over the CO were part of a larger problem with the entire idea of compulsory service. The attempts to fulﬁll this patriotic and ideological mandate in the face of reduced military obligations had led to the national service idea, with many men working in nonmilitary areas. The concept of equal and universal obligation was dying. In the midst of this transition, the CO represented only a modest portion. By the end of the 1980s there were only 5,000 COs serving. Altogether they were a highly educated group, with some 60 percent possessing the baccalaure´at. Some 1,656 served in youth, sports, and environment groups; 365 in cultural units; 344 in agriculture; 153 in national education; 61 in tuberculosis wards; and others in urban ghettos and industry. Their work ranged from aiding the poor to photography and computer jobs. The service condition of the CO now resembled the assignments available under national service.87 NOTES 1. For the United States see George Q. Flynn, “Selective Service and the Conscientious Objector,” in Michael Noone, ed., Selective Conscientious Objection (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1989), pp. 35–55; Vincent L. Knaus to Roosevelt, 3 May 1941, OF 1413, Box 5, Franklin D. Roosevelt Papers, Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, N.Y. (hereafter cited as FDRP). 2. Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, Special Monograph no. 11, 2 vols. (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1950), I: 41; Judy Barrett, “The Conscientious Objector in America,” working paper, National Advisory Committee on Selective Service (hereafter cited as NACSS), Box 56, Record Group (RG) 220, National Archives (NA). 3. Charles Chatﬁeld, For Peace and Justice: Paciﬁsm in America, 1914–1941 (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1971), pp. 68–70; J. Harold Sherk, “The Position of the Conscientious Objector,” Current History 55 (1968): 19; R. R. Russell, “Development of Conscientious Objector Recognition in the United States,” George Washington Law Review 20 (1951–1952): 420, 430–431; Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, I: 49, 54, 63.

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4. Addison G. Foster to Lowell Mellett, 15 August 1940, OF 788, Box 3, FDRP; Russell, “Development,” pp. 412–413, 437; Msgr. M. Ready to Woodring, 25 November 1939, Box 24, Selective Service Records, RG 147–97, NA; E. Raymond Wilson, “Evolution of the C.O. Provisions in the 1940 Conscription Bill,” Quaker History 64 (1975): 3; Roosevelt to Archbishop Samuel A. Stritch, 24 August 1940, OF 1413, Box 4, FDRP; Patricia McNeal, “Catholic Conscientious Objection during World War II,” Catholic Historical Review 61 (1975): 224. 5. Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, I: 4–5, 67, 75, 141; Wilson, “Evolution,” pp. 8–9; J. Garry Clifford & Samuel R. Spenser, Jr., The First Peacetime Draft (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1986), p. 221; Mulford Q. Sibley & Philip E. Jacob, Conscription of Conscience: The American State and the Conscientious Objector, 1940–1947 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1952), pp. 48, 51. 6. Chatﬁeld, For Peace, p. 306; James Rowe to President, 4 October 1940, OF 1413, Box 1, FOR. 7. Sibley & Jacob, Conscription, pp. 54, 58, 64, 68; Research and Statistics Memo, S.S., Vertical File 200S5, 12 September 1951, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Pa. (hereafter cited as LBH); Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, I: 255, 262, 332; Michael Mott, The Seven Mountains of Thomas Merton (Boston: Houghton Mifﬂin, 1984), pp. 165– 171; Duggan memo for Holtzoff, 22 October 1940, Box 31, ﬁle 323.5, RG 147– 97, NA. 8. Sibley & Jacob, Conscription, pp. 68, 307–308; George Q. Flynn, “Lewis Hershey and the Conscientious Objector: The World War II Experience,” Military Affairs 47 (February 1983): 1–6; Linton M. Collins to Edward S. Shattuck, 22 March 1941, Box 31, ﬁle 323.5, RG 147–97, NA; John D. Langston to Morgan, 7 April 1941, ibid., quote from LB memo, digest, ﬁle E37A, vol. 1, ibid.; Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, I: 141–42. 9. Quote from Sibley & Jacob, Conscription, p. 79; Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, I: 137, 144, 153; Francis Biddle to President, 3 March 1944, OF 111, FDRP. Justice Department hearings led to reversing some 65 percent of all appeal cases. The presidential board upheld the local board in only 20 percent of the cases that appeared. During the war the Justice Department handled 12,353 claims. The military character of the appeal boards seemed in violation of the law, but Congress met this objection in 1943 by revising the law to permit civilians to serve. Special Selective Service Commission to Director, 5 May 1944, VF 345.1S22, LBH; quote from Sibley & Jacob, Conscription, p. 79; Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, I: 144–46i; Ernest Angell, Rufus Jones, and W. A. Lawrence to President, 7 March 1944, VF 345.1522, LBH; U.S. Department of Justice, Annual Report, 30 June 1946, pp. 22–24, in VF 345.1x1, LBH. 10. See Heather T. Frazer & John O’Sullivan, We Have Just Begun to Not Fight (New York: Twayne, 1995). Hershey to S. L. Van Akin, 23 April 1941, Box 31, ﬁle 323.5, R5 147–97, NA; Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, I: 320. In some camps men refused to do the work, and some refused to report. The FBI investigated and arrested men who refused. If they continued to refuse after a prison sentence, they were reconvicted and rejailed. See Hershey to Malvina Thompson, Series 70, Box 912, Eleanor Roosevelt Papers, FDRP. 11. Almost 4,000 Jehovah’s Witnesses were convicted and sent to jail, mainly

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because they insisted upon a ministerial exemption. See Nathan T. Eliff, “Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Selective Service Act,” Virginia Law Review 3 (September 1945): 811–822; National Headquarters Opinions, 2 November 1942, vol. III, RG 147; Selective Service System, Conscientious Objection, I: 262; Chester J. Chastek to HQ, 9 June 1941, Box 31, Omer Reading File, RG 147–97, NA. 12. Flynn, “Selective Service,” p. 42. 13. “CO Study,” S.S. Research and Statistics Memo, 1 March 1961, VF 345, LBH; ibid., 1 March 1962. From July 1952 through January 1961 only 900 men registered but refused to accept an alternate work assignment. Of this group some 770, or 85 percent, eventually did report. The CO program simply did not work for Jehovah’s Witnesses. S.S., Res. and Stat. memo, 1 March 1961, VF 345, LBH; Lyle Tatum to Gerald G. Morgan, 6 September 1955, Central ﬁle, OF, Box 664, Dwight D. Eisenhower Papers, Eisenhower Library, Abilene. Kans. (hereafter cited as DDE); Russell, “Development,” p. 440. 14. Selective Service System, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service System, 1952 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), p. 1; idem, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1954 (Washington D.C.: GPO, 1955), p. 28; Zelle A. Larson, “An Unbroken Witness: Conscientious Objection to War, 1948–1953” (Ph.D. diss., University of Hawaii, 1975), pp. 190–192; J. E. Carroll to Gen. Vaughan, 15 September 1950, OF 440, Box 1288, Harry S. Truman Papers, Independence, Mo. (hereafter cited as HST); Selective Service System, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1955 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1956), p. 30; Stephen M. Kohn, Jailed for Peace: The History of American Draft Law Violators, 1658–1985 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1986), p. 70. 15. U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on Employment, Manpower and Poverty, Hearings on Manpower Implications of Selective Service, 90th Cong., 1st sess., 6 April 1967, pp. 249–260; Allan Brotsky, “Trail of a Conscientious Objector,” in Ann F. Ginger, ed., The Relevant Lawyers (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1972), p. 102; McNeal, “Catholic,” p. 222; Kohn, Jailed, p. 80; Charles E. Rice, “Conscientious Objection: A Conservative View,” Modern Age 13 (1968–1969): 67, 69. 16. Walter S. Griggs, Jr., “The Selective Conscientious Objector: A Vietnam Legacy,” Journal of Church and State 21 (January 1979): 95–97; Oean M. Kelley to Callard, 9 December 1969, Box 4, President’s Committee on an All-Volunteer Force (PCAVF), RG 220, NA; Dean Dammann to Gates, 26 September 1969, ibid. 17. Lewis I. Maddocks, “Legal and Constitutional Issues regarding Conscientious Objectors,” in June A. Willenz, ed., Dialogue on the Draft (Washington, D.C.: American Veterans Committee, 1967), pp. 40–41; Barrett, “Conscientious Objector”; Alfred G. Killilea, “Privileging Conscientious Dissent: Another Look at Sherbert V. Verner,” Journal of Church and State 16 (1974): 197n; Sherk, “Position,” p. 21; S.S. Case Law File, VF, 8 March 1965, LBH; Lewis I. Maddocks, “Legal Aspects of CO,” research paper, n.d., NACSS, Box 42, RG 220, NA. 18. Hershey interview, 15 October 1970, Lyndon B. Johnson Library, Austin, Tex. (hereafter cited as LBJ); Selective Service Newsletter, September 1968, p. 3; ibid., October 1968, p. 1; Omer to Levinson, 29 June 1967, WHCF ND 9–4, Ct. 153, LBJ; James W. Davis and Kenneth M. Dolbeare, “A Social Proﬁle of Local Draft Board Members: The Case of Wisconsin,” in Roger Little, ed., Selective Service and American Society (New York: Russell Sage, 1969), p. 73; Lawrence M. Baskir & William A. Strauss, Chance and Circumstance: The Draft, the War and

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the Vietnam Generation (New York: Knopf, 1978), pp. 26, 40; Sherk, “Position,” p. 22. 19. Selective Service System, Semi-annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, January–June, 1973 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1973), p. 55; Michael Useem, Conscription, Protest, and Social Conﬂict: The Life and Death of a Draft Resistance Movement (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1973), pp. 13–31. Baskir & Strauss, Chance, p. 41, cite a total of 172,000 during the “Vietnam era” but do not indicate a source. A total of 17,000 servicemen made CO claims during the entire period. See ibid., p. 57. 20. For Europe see Terrence Cullinan, “Models of Service Systems Overseas,” in Robert P. Friedman & Charley Leistner, eds., Compulsory Service Systems: A Critical Discussion and Debate Source Book (Columbia, Mo.: Artcraft Press, 1968), p. 262; Albert A. Blum, “Comparative Conscription Systems: An Exploratory Analysis,” in Roger W. Little, ed., A Survey of Military Institutions (Chicago: InterUniversity Seminar on Armed Forces and Society, 1969), pp. 45–59. For the British see “Memo on British CO’s,” n.d., VF 345.84H39, LBH; Griggs, “Selective,” p. 105; Peter Brock, Twentieth Century Paciﬁsm (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1970), p. 158; Angus Calder, The People’s War: Britain, 1939–45 (New York: Random House, l969), p. 52. 21. Wilson, “Evolution,” p. 15. 22. The following section relies on Edward R. Cain, “Conscientious Objection in France, Britain, and the United States,” Comparative Politics 2 (January 1970): 275–307. 23. Ibid., pp. 285–286, 306. 24. Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 153; Margaret Levi, “The Institution of Conscription,” Social Science History 20 (Spring 1996): 154. 25. George H. Gallup, ed., Gallup International Public Opinion Polls: Great Britain, 1937–1975, 2 vols. (New York: Random House, 1976), I: 5; clip of Daily Express 5 May 1939, in Liddell-Hart Papers, King’s College, London (hereafter cited as LHP), 15/3/55. 26. Daily Telegraph, 11 May 1939, LHP, 15/3/52; Chamberlain quoted in Brock, Paciﬁsm, p. 158; Churchill quote in Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” p. 288. 27. 2 & 3 Geo., RA Fact 39, 26 May 1939, pp. 161, 164; 2 & 3 Geo. 6, 3 September 1939, pp. 1146–1147; H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of WarTime Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), p. 155. 28. 2 & 3 Geo. 6, 3 September 1939, p. 1146; Parker, Manpower, p. 155; Brock, Paciﬁsm, p. 158; Conﬁdential M.L. circular 158 to regional controllers, 1941, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO), Lab6/183. 29. 2 & 3 Geo. 6, 3 September 1939, pp. 1146, 1148; Deputation received by Sec. of State in Commons on CO’s, 23 January 1942, PRO/Lab6/142. 30. Appellate Tribunal precedents decisions, 1 February 1940, PRO/Lab6/622; Appeals from Midland Tribunal, 12 December 1940, ibid.; Unsigned, undated note for guidance of ofﬁcer, 1940, PRO/Lab6/141. 31. Calder, People’s, p. 52; Brief for Minister, 23 January 1942, PRO/Lab6/142.

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32. Appellate Tribunal precedents, 18 January 1940 and 1 February 1940, PRO/ Lab6/622. 33. James to Hardman, 9 October 1942, PRO/Lab6/14. 34. NS 14 form application, 22 January 1943, PRO/Lab45/54. 35. Progress report for War Cabinet, 31 January 1940, PRO/Lab6/126; Memo on CO decisions, 18 May 1940, PRO/Lab6/126; Decisions of Local Tribunals, 4 April 1942, PRO/Lab6/142; Parker, Manpower, p. 157. 36. 2 & 3 Geo., RA Fact39, 26 May 1939, p. 163; Unsigned memo on placing of CO’s, MLNS, 12 December 1939, PRO/Lab6/127; Note on discussion of CO, MLNS, 7 March 1940, PRO/Lab6/128. 37. MLNS, unsigned and undated 1940 memo on guidance of lbs on assignment of CO, PRO/Lab6/1941. 38. Unsigned memo on placing CO’s, MLNS, 12 December 1939, PRO/Lab6/ 127; W. Tame to C. G. Dennys, 14 March 1940, ibid.; Dennys to Myrddin Evans, 6 December 1940, ibid. 39. Dennys to Myrddin Evans, 6 December 1940, PRO/Lab6/127; Unsigned memo on placing CO’s, 12 December 1939, PRO/Lab6/127; J. R. Davies to Christie, 28 September 1945, PRO/Lab6/283. 40. Army Council: CO’s Memo by Adj.-General, 19 April 1940, PRO/WO32/ 14529. 41. 2 & 3 Geo. 6, 3 September 1939, p. 1148; Notes of discussion between Dennys and Lambert at WO, 1 January 1940, PRO/Lab6/14; Army Council: CO’s Memo by Adj.-Gen., 19 April 1940, PRO/WO32/14529; CO decisions up to 18 May by 16 local tribunals, 18 May 1940, PRO/Lab6/126. 42. Deputation received by Sec. of State in Commons on CO’s, 23 January 1942, PRO/Lab6/142; MLNS to Major A. P. Cunningham, 18 June 1943, PRO/WO32/ 10684; Extract from C.B.C.O. Bulletin for May 1943, PRO/WO32/10684. 43. David Davies to Thoma, 25 June 1943, PRO/WO32/10684. 44. Dennys to James, 2 October 1939, PRO/Lab6/14; Memo to AG by Lambert, 8 November 1939, PRO/WO32/10684. 45. G. W. Lambert to CGs, 19 December 1939, PRO/WO32/10684. 46. G. W. Lambert to C. G. Dennys, 20 December 1939, ibid.; Notes of discussion between Dennys and Lambert, 1 January 1940, PRO / Lab6/14. 47. Dennys to Ince, 4 January 1940, PRO/Lab6/264; Memo by A.J.S. James, MLNS, 10 April 1940, PRO/Lab6/14. After three months of war only 25 men were under sentence in the military as COs. 48. Deputation received by Secretary in Commons, 23 January 1942, PRO/Lab6/ 142. 49. James to Neden, minute, 1 November 1940, PRO/Lab6/14; C. G. Ghicholson, to Undersec. of State, 25 October 1942, PRO/WO32/10684. 50. James to Hardman, 9 October 1942, PRO/Lab6/14; Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” p. 293. 51. P. J. Griggs to Wilson, 8 December 1942; Lambert to Sec., MLNS, 22 December 1942, and Lambert to W. H. Hardman, 1 April 1943, all in PRO/Lab6/14. 52. Min. of Labour circular 123/67, 1 April 1946, PRO/Lab6/282; Minute J. R. Davies to Christie, 28 September 1945, ibid.; Min. J. R. Davies to Neden, 8 January 1946, PRO/Lab6/286. 53. Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” p. 289. For France, see Charles Moskos

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& J. W. Chambers, The New Conscientious Objection (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). 54. Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” pp. 289–291; Army Council Secretariat: Extract mins. of 28th meeting of Defence Com., 17 October 1946, p. 4, PRO/ WO32/12242; 11 & 12 Geo. 6. ch. 64: act to consolidate NS acts, 1939 to 1947, 30 July 1948 in PRO/WO32/13249; Meeting, Ministry of Defense, 21 October 1960, PRO/Lab6/264; Robert Beloe to Archbishop of Canterbury, 27 August 1963, Caxton House/Lab6/713. 55. Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” pp. 290–291; J. R. Davies to Fyfe and Tregenowan, 23 June 1947, PRO/Lab6/285; Select Com. on Estimates, memo by MLNS on call-ups, 1952, PRO/Lab6/683; Report of deputation from Central Board for COs, 19 May 1958, PRO/Lab6/622; Ofﬁcial release by MLNS, Leaﬂet on regist., 22 May 1958, PRO/Lab6/685. 56. Maurice Larkin, France since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936–1986 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), pp. 296–297. 57. Michel L. Martin, “Raison de conscience et raison d’etat: L’Objection au service militaire en France,” Annales de l’Universite de Toulouse 31 (1991): 5–23; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, pp. 80–81; Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” pp. 276, 278. 58. Quoted in Georges Marey, “Le Service national et le code du service national-II,” Revue militaire generale 28 (1972): 39. 59. Quoted in Michel L. Martin, Warriors to Managers: The French Military Establishment since 1945 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981), p. 167n28. 60. For French paciﬁsm in 1933, see Norman Ingram, “The Circulaire Chautemps, 1933: The Third Republic Discovers Conscientious Objection,” French Historical Studies 17 (Fall 1991): 387–409; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 5; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, p. 83; Eugen J. Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930’s (New York: Norton, 1994), p. 23; Anthony Adamthwaite, France and the Coming of the Second World War, 1936–1939 (London: Frank Cass, 1977), p. 8. 61. Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 6. CO claims remained exceedingly small, less than 200 by 1960. 62. Ibid.; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, p. 83. 63. Quoted in Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: p. 809. 64. Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” pp. 277, 279; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 6, 11–12; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, p. 84; quote in S. Maillard, “La Longue marche des objecteurs,” La Vie 1796 (31 January 1980): 25. 65. George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup International Public Opinion Polls, France 1939, 1944–1975, 2 vols. (New York: Random House, 1976), I: 137 (1 November 1949). 66. Gen. J. Faure to Min. Def., Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV), 6t296, E´tat-Major de Arme´e de Terre (EMAT), 1oBur 12 May 1956. 67. Michel Richard, “Surprise: Les Jeunes d’engagent,” Le Point, 8 April 1985, p. 56; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 22. 68. Blum, “Comparative,” p. 458; Eugen J. Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen:

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The Modernization of Rural France, 1870–1914 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1976), p. 295. 69. Marey, “Le Service national-II,” p. 40. 70. Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 23 71. Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” p. 280; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 7; Marey, “Le Service national-II,” p. 40. 72. This last provision was never enforced. Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, p. 86; Blum, “Comparative,” p. 458; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 8–9; Martin, Warrior, p. 127. 73. E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre, Le Service national (edition me´thodique) (Paris: Ministe´re des Arme´es, 1 June 1968), p. 348 (hereafter cited as (BO,SN); Journal ofﬁciel de la Re´publique´ Franc¸aise (hereafter cited as JO), Code du service national (Paris: Journal Ofﬁciel, 1989), p. 37; Michel Bosquet, “Le Droit desobeir,” Le Nouvelle observateur, 26 November 1979, pp. 64–66; JO, 6 April 1971, p. 907; Marey, “Le Service national-II,” p. 41; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 8, 11; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, p. 85. 74. BO,SN, ed. method, 1 June 1968, pp. 347–348; JO, Code du service national, 8 July 1983, p. 36; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 7–9, 15; Herve´ Moineau, “Faire un service national intelligent,” Le Monde de l’e´ducation, 1 December 1981, p. 35; S. Maillard, “La Longue marche,” p. 26; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, pp. 84–85; Marey, “Le Service national-II,” pp. 40–41. 75. Service d’Inforation et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es, E´cole Militaire, Paris (hereafter cited as SIRPA), Le Service national en chiffres, 1991 (Paris, 1991), p. 20; Maillard, “Le Longue marche,” p. 26; Martin, “Raison de Conscience,” p. 9, 22; Moskos & Chambers, New conscientious Objection, pp. 85–86; Le Monde, 26 May 1995, p. 9; Guy-Michel Chauveau, Le Service national: Rapport au ministe´re de la De´fense (Paris: La Documentation Franc¸aise, 1990), p. 27; Martin, Warrior, p. 158. 76. Quote from Maillard, “La Longue marche,” p. 25. For the CO proﬁle see Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 1, 13, 22–23, 26. 77. Cain, “Conscientious Objection,” p. 282; Maillard, “Le Longue marche,” pp. 25, 29; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, p. 89; Bosquet, “Le Droit desobeir,” p. 65; Martin, “Raison de Conscience,” pp. 10–13, 22. 78. Gen. J. Faure to Min. Def., 12 May 1956, CV, 6t296, EMAT, 1oBur; JO, Code du service national, 8 July 1983, p. 37; BO,SN, ed. method, 1 June 1968, p. 347–348. 79. Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 9–10; Bosquet, “Le Droit desobeir,” p. 65; JO de la Rep. Fran., 6 April 1971, p. 907. 80. JO de la Rep. Fran., 6 April 1971, p. 907; quote in Maillard, “Le Longue marche,” p. 29. 81. Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 11; Maillard, “Le Longue marche,” p. 29; Bosquet, “Le Droit desobeir,” p. 65; Blum, “Comparative,” p. 459; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, pp. 86–88; Chauveau, Le Service National, pp. 27–8. 82. Quote in JO de la Rep. Fran., 6 April 1971, p. 911; Maillard, “Le Longue marche,” p. 26; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 8.

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83. JO de la Rep. Fran., 6 April 1971, p. 906; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 10; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, p. 86. 84. Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 10–11; Michel L. Martin, “Conscription and the Decline of the Mass Army in France, 1960–1975,” Armed Forces and Society 3 (1977): 366; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, p. 86; Maillard, “Le Longue marche,” p. 27. 85. Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 11, 13. 86. JO, Code du service national, 8 July 1983, pp. 36–37; SIRPA, Actuell-4, 18 October 1993, p. 1; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” pp. 10, 14; “Le Projet de reforme du code du service national (8/4),” Le Monde, 7 April 1983, p. 10. 87. Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 12; Martin, Warrior, p. 127; Moskos & Chambers, New Conscientious Objection, pp. 90–91; SIRPA, SN, doss. 1, 1989, p. 39; Chauveau, Le Service National, p. 27.

Chapter 11

The Politics of Conscription Few public issues evoked as much political controversy as the introduction of conscription in a democratic society. The implications of such a measure were seen clearly by parents, employers, and labor members and hence by politicians representing these constituencies. Unlike France, which had the symbol of the revolution to assist the selling of conscription, both Britain and the United States had a long tradition of opposition to such service. The political struggle to adopt such a measure and maintain it once adopted required heroic efforts. GREAT BRITAIN When Britain entered the 20th century its most recent military experience had left a bad taste. The unsavory struggle with the Boers in South Africa had turned many voters against the military establishment. The Liberal Party that assumed power on the approach of World War I had a tradition of being opposed to conscription and military adventures. To this opposition was joined the forces of the newly born Labour Party. Members of the working class recalled the many occasions when a militia force had been used to frustrate union actions. Support for conscription came from an elite class of conservatives, old imperialists, who began to push compulsory military service after the Boer War. This group, resembling the Plattsburg Training Camp Association active in the United States, saw military training under a national service scheme as an instrument to achieve social and moral objectives.1 Filled with conservatives who looked askance upon the class antagonism rising under industrialization and modernization, the National Service League (NSL)

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advocated yearly military training to restore the physical and moral fervor of the British male. George F. Shee, the founder, thought the measure needed to eradicate slum dwellers and “turn them from ‘hooligans’ into men.” Sir Robert Baden-Powell had created the Boy Scout movement in 1908 with the same idea. The League drew support from an increasing number of military and elite leaders in Britain. By 1915 it had some 50 branches and a registered membership of 270,000.2 Yet the organization was unable to translate this support into passage of conscription. Although the NSL had initially advocated “military training” rather than conscription into the regular forces, neither the Labour Party nor the Liberals supported the idea. In 1909 a bill for such training failed a second reading. As late as 1913 a similar measure was defeated. Henry Asquith, prime minister when war came, was strongly opposed to the idea. What ﬁnally caused the government to adopt conscription some 18 months after the war began was the disastrous consequences of military recruiting on the British workforce. With Lord Kitchener insisting that “Britain Wants You,” workers ﬂed vital jobs for the New Army. This movement forced the government’s hand, not to ﬁnd ﬁghting men but to save production at home.3 The buildup to war in 1939 showed the same pattern of government reluctance to adopt a draft. The Baldwin government of 1935 and the later Chamberlain government had both given unequivocal pledges not to adopt conscription during peacetime. Chamberlain had no interest in creating a mass force because his strategic view rejected a repetition of another large British land army ﬁghting on the continent. Britain maintained this limited liability stance until after the Munich conference of October 1938.4 Putting off conscription until the war began was the expeditious route to follow. The opposition of Labour to such a measure had grown more intense because of the antistrike actions of conservative governments in the 1920s and 1930s. Even military experts seemed divided on the need for such a step. Some liked the idea of having many more men, but others pointed to the dislocation such numbers would cause. The regular forces would be compelled to divert manpower for training and for erecting facilities, and the well of high-quality volunteers would run dry. Capt. B. H. Liddell-Hart, military correspondent for The Times, wrote extensively against conscription. He felt it a step backward, when Britain should be emphasizing highly technical armor units for battle. When the public was asked in January 1937 if it favored compulsory military training, only 25 percent said yes, whereas 75 percent said no.5 The Chamberlain government faced a growing dilemma. Hitler’s actions were becoming increasingly belligerent on the continent. His refusal to abide by the Munich Accord shocked even the optimistic prime minister. France, Britain’s most important ally, demanded Chamberlain adopt conscription as a sign of ﬁrmness in the alliance. Instead, Chamberlain ﬁrst

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tried a national volunteer campaign. A similar plan was also part of the American mobilization. Designed as much to educate the public to the emergency as to obtain troops, the scheme involved a gigantic public relations effort to encourage people to accept voluntarily positions of national defense. Enlisting in the regular forces was not emphasized. Thousands of booklets detailing opportunities for volunteer work were mailed to households in Britain. Not surprisingly, this effort produced few men.6 Public opinion was volatile about any service. An earlier poll in 1937 had found that even in the event of war only 38 percent would volunteer. In late 1938 a poll showed about 50 percent supporting voluntary national service, but another 50 percent felt the need for compulsion. In October 1938 Gallup asked: “A national register could be made listing everybody available for civilian or military service in wartime. Should this be done immediately?” Some 78 percent said yes, and only 22 percent said no. Although unions had offered to support volunteer registration, mainly to defuse enthusiasm for conscription, the entire voluntary campaign bordered on farce. A survey found that only 19 percent had volunteered for any form of national service. Not surprisingly, the French, desiring a commitment from its future ally, found little solace in a campaign that listed cooks and sleeve link makers as vital for war.7 Diplomacy rather than military foresight determined the decision to move to compulsion. Hitler occupied the remainder of Czechoslovakia on 15 March 1939. The French grew desperate as their Eastern European diplomacy of containment verged on collapse. To reassure France and to send a message to Hitler, Chamberlain announced a doubling in size of the Territorial Field Army, adding 340,000 reservists. Fatefully, he also gave a border guarantee to Poland against further German aggression, something neither the British nor the French military were prepared to endorse. Yet such steps were now perceived by some as too little.8 Within the government and in the Commons support grew for adopting compulsory service. When he ﬁnally acted, Chamberlain offered a bill, called “temporary and limited,” for drafting 20 year-old males for six months of military training. In fact, he could do little more because the armed forces were not yet prepared to receive hordes of draftees. The measure had at least the character of compulsion, which reassured the French, but Chamberlain acted to bolster home air defense rather than as a preliminary to a large British expeditionary force. Public opinion had moved ahead of him, as it did in the United States where Franklin Roosevelt was another reluctant convert to military conscription. Polls showed that some 60 percent of the British public now approved compulsory military training.9 The entry of Britain into war on 3 September 1939 ended political debate on military conscription. Winston Churchill’s new government achieved

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bipartisan support and national unity unparalleled among Allied governments. His appointment of Ernest Bevin, former leader of the Trade Union Council, as head of the Ministry of Labour and National Service solidiﬁed this bipartisanship. But some political debate arose over a few draft issues during the war. The adoption of compulsory national service for all labor in May 1940 was something unions had resisted and feared in the prewar years. Bevin, originally opposed, moved so slowly to such a step that reaction in labor circles was effectively muted. Polls showed strong sentiment that such a step was overdue.10 Political controversy over conscription only arose again with the end of the war and the decision to continue drafting.11 What made peacetime conscription particularly unique, other than British tradition, was the coming to power of a Labour government under Clement Attlee, who had argued against such a measure in the prewar years. In the postwar, however, the climate had changed. Public opinion had by now seen the value of the system. In September 1944, polls indicated that 48 percent saw a need to continue conscription after the war, but 47 percent did not. A year later, in September 1945, 65 percent approved one-year conscription for all young men in peacetime, while only 27 percent disapproved. When the government introduced its bill in December 1946, 72 percent felt it necessary and only 21 percent disagreed.12 The enthusiasm of a victorious war effort contributed to endorsement of one of its vital components. The new bill concerned only military service, and all other controls had been lifted. Just as important, the Labour government argued convincingly that without such a measure Britain could not play its ordained peacekeeping role in Europe and the Far East. Its Great Power status required a military force sustained by draftees. Bevin, now foreign minister, also pursued a vigorous foreign policy against Soviet moves in Europe. Subsequently, Soviet moves in Eastern Europe and the Berlin Blockade signiﬁed the beginning of the Cold War. The resulting formation of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization required a large military establishment. The Attlee government committed itself to peacetime conscription before developing a postwar strategy. Military needs could not wait upon ﬁne points of theory.13 Despite popular support for draft extension, some political problems arose within the Labour Party. The old arguments remained powerful within and outside of Labour. The withdrawal of young men from the rebuilding economy was bound to act as a drag on British recovery from the war. Taking young men at age 18 meant many had to curtail or delay their college or apprentice programs. For some it also meant delays or interruption to family careers. The inﬂux of national servicemen into the regular armed forces also contributed to some inefﬁciency because men were constantly entering and leaving the service. The most debated problem in 1946 related to the length of the peacetime

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tour. The government initially desired a two-year tour. The military insisted that such length was needed to ensure that some effective, even overseas, service could be obtained of a new man. A signiﬁcant minority of the Labour Party in the Commons, however, resisted the government on this issue and forced a compromise for a 12-month tour.14 Attlee and Bevins were disappointed in the 12-month tour. The need for Britain to play a major role in Europe required a sizable armed force. Attlee also hoped that reinforcing the military in Europe would make it easier to withdraw from some distant imperial post. Fortunately, his position was strengthened even before the one-year tour came into effect. Soviet moves in Europe, including threats against the four-power occupation of Berlin, allowed the government to introduce a new bill in November 1947 with an 18-month tour. Thanks to solid support from the Conservatives in the Commons and from Churchill, the government carried the day. With an 18-month tour the military was able to use national servicemen not only in the British army on the Rhine but also in decolonization struggles in Malaysia and Palestine.15 During 1949 the national service issue remained alive, but the government was able to defuse political opposition. To arguments that the government should set a deﬁnite time for ending the system, spokesmen responded by pointing to the unsettled nature of international affairs. When the Lord President presented a paper raising the prospect of the government abandoning national service for an all-regular force, the War Ofﬁce rejected the idea. An all-regular force had to reach at least a level of 275,000 men and 16,000 women by 1953. But current recruitment trends indicated that regular strength would be only 148,000. Churchill kept insisting that ending the draft would be “deeply injurious” to the Atlantic Pact. The elections of early 1950 found national service a nonissue, still enjoying wide bipartisan support. In the summer of 1950, debate was stiﬂed with the North Korean invasion of the South.16 After the United Nations achieved a stalemate in the Korean ﬁghting, national service became less politically viable. In October 1951 the Conservatives regained control of the government. Labour in opposition proved less a friend to national service than Labour in power. The Conservative government began a reassessment of defense strategy and moved toward less spending and more reliance on a nuclear capability. After the Korean armistice of 26 July 1953, the government faced increasing pressure to reduce the length of tour or end the draft.17 The Conservative government responded with several White Papers on Defense in 1953 and 1957, pointing to an early end of national service. British public opinion began to shift against conscription and played a role in this reassessment. In October 1952 a poll had asked if the length of tour should be left at the two years imposed during the Korean crisis or reduced to 18 months. Opinion split, with 45 percent for a reduction and 45 percent

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for the status quo. After Churchill stated that a reduction would be unwise, a new poll showed 49 percent approved the two-year tour. But increasing pressure against national service from social groups, education lobbies, and others was having an effect, even on the upper classes. The Chief of the Imperial General Staff warned that reduction of tour for national servicemen would have a bad effect on his regular forces, but public opinion was sliding away from the draft.18 In 1956 the British suffered the ignominy of the aborted invasion of Suez. This setback combined with existing public dissatisfaction and demographic problems to produce the White Paper of 1957, which called for ending national service in the near future. The Conservative government realized that national service was becoming a political liability, a convenient weapon for Labour opposition. The government also faced the same challenge faced by the United States in the 1960s and France in the 1970s. There were now too many young British males arriving at draft age for the requirements of the military forces.19 Several studies in 1956 and 1957 demonstrated that an unchanged national service would generate a surplus of up to 71,500 men by 1961. The question was how to deal with such a problem and still retain compulsory service. One option was to raise the age of call, but this merely ensured more protest as men were called in from developing careers. Another option, favored by the United States, was to expand the number of deferments. But this technique made a mockery of the supposed universal character of national service. The British had always insisted that national service was not a “selective service,” such as in the United States. Finally, there was the option of holding a “ballot” or lottery. This proposal met objections because of the unfortunate image of losers being called to serve their country. The ﬁnal option was to simply wrap up the entire draft system and move to an all-volunteer force.20 Promising to end national service could earn valuable political dividends for the government. In October 1955 the government had raised the prospect of drafting at an earlier age and found support from only 34 percent of those polled. When asked in October 1957 whether one’s party should support or oppose the abolishment, of conscription, 53 percent said the party should support abolishment and only 27 percent said oppose it. Asked how to cut the intake of men in September 1955, by cutting the tour or expanding deferments, 75 percent of those polled said cut the tour. The arguments about the disadvantages of conscription were carrying the day.21 When the government met in the fall of 1956 to decide the fate of conscription, it faced a unique situation. Military ofﬁcials insisted that ending national service in the next three years would be “a gamble.” Target strength for the armed forces for 1960 was 450,000 males. With no draft and present recruitment trends, the projected totals were less than 400,000. The First Lord of the Admiralty warned that ending conscription would

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have a bad effect on NATO; it was a sign that Britain could not meet its commitments. The undersecretary of state for air announced that the Royal Air Force (RAF) could not accept the prospect of functioning without a draft after 1961. Such a decision would signify that Britain “should no longer be able to sit at the ‘big table.’ ”22 Given the indication from polls and the opposition from military ofﬁcials, the government faced a Gordian knot. But military opinion carried little weight at the voting booth. At a meeting of 4 October 1956 the Ministry of Labour announced that a lottery ballot was “politically objectionable.” This position was supported by the secretary of state for war. Since expanding deferments was unacceptable to the armed forces and offended against universality, the only remaining option was to announce the end of the system. This was done in the White Paper of 1957. The wrapping up of the system caused problems for both the military and the unlucky men called at the end. Morale suffered and avoiding service became more chronic. In October 1960 there were still 106,300 national servicemen on duty but no longer any call-ups.23 Now Britain had an all-volunteer force. Recruiting of volunteers in 1961 went up 23 percent over 1960, thanks to better pay and beneﬁts. When asked in 1962, with tension high over Cuba and Berlin, if they would agree with a reintroduction of conscription, 51 percent of the British public polled disagreed, and only 32 percent agreed. Some 30 years later, when the British all-volunteer force fought alongside the U.S. volunteers and the French army, it performed so well that the French president called it the best in the world. In short order, he moved to end the French system of conscription.24 FRANCE The French took longer to end the draft because of their history and political culture. Conscription is portrayed as an instrument for linguistic unity, social integration, and democratization.25 In fact, the method of ﬁnding young men to put their lives at risk in battle has always been a political issue, in France and other democratic regimes. What was unique about the political struggle in France was the class attitudes toward the system. In both the United States and Great Britain the upper, conservative classes were instrumental in promoting such a system in the 20th century. In these nations the laboring classes and the political Left fought vigorously against such a device. In France everything was topsy-turvy.26 As in the United States and Britain, French leaders did see military service as useful in domesticating and indoctrinating a fragmented population and the army as a school of patriotism. But in France there were important differences in the conscription ideology of Left and Right.27 Despite the role of leve´e en masse in the Revolution and Napoleon’s

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triumphs with a conscript force, by 1870 the French faced a belligerent Prussia with a highly professional force. When this force met a crushing defeat at the hands of a Prussian army augmented by conscripts, France began a reexamination of its military. After accepting terms from Prussia and putting down an insurrection by the Paris commune, a new conservative government headed by Adolphe Thiers moved to reform the military. Thiers preferred an all-professional army, but the recent defeat of the French regulars made clear a need for conscription. The new law provided deferments for the upper classes, induction of peasants, and long tours. The military staff preferred long tours for conscripts so they could be properly indoctrinated. Thiers himself worried about arming the rabble who had recently promoted an insurrection in Paris.28 Following the Franco-Prussian war the idea of a mass-conscript army received bipartisan support in France. But the actual form of conscription, in terms of deferments for special groups and the length of the draftees’ tours, remained highly charged political issues. The debate unfolded in the period from 1872 to 1914, as an increasingly Left-dominated government moved to revise the character of conscription to ﬁt a new ideological model. The Left saw the draft as a means of educating young Frenchmen to republican values; a military tour would supplement the secular school in this task. Yet socialists realized that to leave a young man for too long in the hands of conservative, professional ofﬁcers spelled trouble. The new model was designed to do away with all class bias in exemptions and deferments and to ensure a short tour that maximized the numbers rotating in and out. After 1900 there was an attempt to purge the ofﬁcer corps of Catholic, royalist types.29 In 1910 Jean Jaure`s, a socialist leader, wrote his classic study L’Arme´e nouvelle, which deﬁned the Republican-conscript army. The outbreak of World War I, however, led to a restoration of a threeyear tour and an end to purges. The war generated a sacred union of all political parties and a new respect for the professional military class. After the war the need for a mass army and conscription was accepted by both the Left and Right, but the character of that army again became subject to political debate. The Left, regaining power in the early 1920s, returned to its campaign to reorganize the army along Republican lines.30 After 1924 the debate focused on the length of tour required by the conscription law. Diplomatic and economic developments played a role in the debate, but to a surprising degree the issues remained as they had been before the ﬁrst war. The Left kept insisting on a short tour, to expose as many young Frenchmen as possible to the integrating character of national service while avoiding the danger of military indoctrination. The Right argued for a long term and a large professional element. As one politician phrased it: “A soldier who has served for one year has learned without doubt to use his weapons, but he has not learned to obey; his character has not been subjugated, his will has not been broken.”31

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By 1928 a compromise was worked out that held until the outbreak of World War II. The Left obtained a reduction in the conscript tour to one year, but the Right and the army were won over by the creation of a force of professionals of at least 106,000. Although the army disliked the continued burden of training recruits who appeared and then quickly disappeared into reserve status, not even the rise of Hitler in 1933 reversed the settlement. With the depression of the 1930s the induction of large numbers of youth for short periods served to relieve the unemployment crisis. The chronic instability of the French government in the interwar period also prevented a recasting of the compromise. The Right accepted the theory of a conscript army with short tours, and the Left accepted the need for a body of professional cadres to train the youth. The settlement was one of the many factors that contributed to the defeat of the French army by the Germans in 1940. The numerous reservists created by the short tour proved difﬁcult to integrate and mobilize for war.32 During the occupation and the rule of Vichy, conscription for military forces ended. The Petain government supported an all-regular army. The debate over conscription, however, remained to be reconsidered in the postwar world.33 After 1945 France remained committed to conscription longer than either the United States or Great Britain. But this constancy was not without several bitter political struggles. The Left continued true to its Jaure´s heritage, the belief that the best guarantee of the Republic against foreign adventurism was a military ﬁlled with soldiers who were merely civilians in disguise. Public opinion polls revealed that most Frenchmen agreed on the symbolic importance of conscription. The Right continued to argue for a more professional force.34 The old arguments now confronted a number of new circumstances that put a heavier burden on the justiﬁcation of conscription. During the postwar world France faced several military requirements to maintain its colonial status in Indo-China and Algeria. The role of conscripts in such conﬂicts had to be worked out.* Also, with the development of a nuclear capability and a baby boom, France found its military manpower needs shrinking and its eligible cohort increasing. This raised the problems of ﬁnding deferments and alternative service arrangements for the surplus. Finally, with the end of the Cold War in the late 1980s, the arguments for a large ground force supported by conscripts seemed less convincing. The French army sought redemption for its defeat in 1940 by ﬁghting colonial conﬂicts in Indo-China and Algeria. This strategy followed from Charles de Gaulle’s idea of a restoration of gloire to the nation. In IndoChina the issue of conscription arose only after the military defeat at Dien Bien Phu in May 1954. Ofﬁcially, only conscripts who volunteered could serve in Indo-China, but the French ofﬁcer corps had been decimated. *See Chapter 5 for conscripts and colonial wars.

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When Pierre Mende`s-France approached the peace talks in July he played the conscript card as a means of ensuring public support for peace terms. He threatened to send three divisions of conscripts to the battle area if an accord was not reached. This threat was designed to have an effect both on the Vietnamese military opponents, with the prospect of continued ﬁghting, and on right-wing domestic opinion in France, by the prospect of directly involving more French citizens. Similarly the role of conscripts in the Algerian war was indirect. Here conscripts did serve in large numbers and were instrumental in defusing an attempted ofﬁcer coup against the French government. Oddly, although in both cases the Left parties were anticolonial, at no time did the leaders of the Left argue against conscription. Pierre Mende`s-France made this clear as he defended draft resisters in a French court. Even after the socialist prime minister, Pierre Mollet, began the French nuclear weapons program, the Left remained true to the “Jaure`s” principle of conscription.35 The political Right in France was also late in turning away from conscription. Just as the Left, the conservative forces increasingly justiﬁed the draft for nonmilitary reasons. While the Left felt the leaven of draftees served to socialize the armed forces with civilian values, the Right felt the military experience socialized youth with bourgeoisie values of discipline and patriotism. Yet the parties of the Right—both the Union pour la De´mocratie Franc¸aise (UDF) and the Rassemblement pour la Re´publique (RPR-Gaullist)—also accepted the need for a nuclear strategy and enhancement of the professional character of the military. In the 1970s, when the force of demography and world events created a surplus of men, the Right was moved easily from conscription to an all-professional force.36 As in the United States, France experienced a surplus of potential military manpower in the 1960s. By 1965 the annual required size of the draft contingent reached some 215,000. But thanks to a French baby boom after 1944, the annual cohort of eligible males far exceeded this need. In 1960 the cohort reached 260,000. By 1965 it was 310,000 and 400,000 by 1966. How to deal with this surplus became the political issue of how to reform the conscript system to maintain universality. In the United States the solution was to expand deferments, which only created new political problems. France also tried a combination of expanding deferments and alternative forms of service. Another solution considered was to reduce the length of the tour, but this had implications for military readiness.37 After World War II the tour was set at 12 months, which provided a massive inﬂux of eligibles. As France participated in the Korean War and colonial struggles, service was extended to 18 months and then two years, although a poll in 1948 found 54 percent against such an extension. President Rene´ Ple´ven in 1952 warned that a two-year tour would cause political problems. By the early 1960s the government reduced the tour to one year. This cut received support from both draft-eligible males and the

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general population. Indeed, by 1964 almost 30 percent of those polled felt the system should be ended. The government admitted in 1965 that the current annual call would produce twice the numbers needed by the military. Yet reducing the call to less than one year meant no time for training and service by the draftees.38 With tour reduction exhausted as a remedy for the surplus, the next solution was to expand the available deferments and provide alternative, nonmilitary means of fulﬁlling the obligation. This tactic also had several disadvantages. In the 19th century it had become the means of protecting elites from military service. Socialist governments after 1870 had made the ending of such protection a part of their general crusade to restore the military to its republican heritage. Also, the growth of such deferments contributed to a sense of inequity among French youth. The remedy chosen in the 1960s was to transform a military draft into a national service scheme. The government now emphasized the idea that by nonmilitary duty one could also fulﬁll one’s republican duty. By 1964 the French had moved to a system of selective service, similar to that of the United States. Exemptions and deferments became more numerous. Draftees were serving in the national police force, in the ﬁreﬁghter brigades, in overseas businesses, and in civil service positions, frequently dealing with health and public safety. All of these options seemed a violation of the principle of universal military obligation, but youth did not complain. A poll in 1970 found that only 8 percent of a draft contingent desired service in one of the ﬁghting branches such as infantry, tanks, or artillery. But these units still needed 32 percent of each contingent. Reforms offered in 1970 by the “loi Debre´” made it possible for students to delay their induction date by several years, creating additional problems for military efﬁciency. Although the number of youth who obtained alternate civil service was always small, no larger than 6 percent of a contingent (less than 12,000), the class bias in the granting of these options served to fan political ﬁres against the institutional draft.39 In the 1990s the government made one last attempt to solve the problem of surplus by painting national service as a training ground for youth, even a mechanism for ending illiteracy. But this merely compounded the problem of inadequate military training and generated more complaints about social inequity. Polls on the new options revealed the problems. Some 39 percent of eligible youth wanted more professional training, 20 percent wanted more pay, and 6 percent wanted a reduction in the length of the tour.40 The next logical step was to end conscription and move to an allprofessional, all-volunteer force as Britain had done in 1960 and the United States in 1973. Such a move was more wrenching for the French with their historic concept of the nation in arms. It appeared that the French public supported the idea of national service but not the reality of it. In seeking to reform rather than abolish conscription, the major parties were acting

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in rhythm with French public opinion for most of the postwar period. Polls show that most French citizens felt compulsory military service was good for the nation and the man. In 1960, 72 percent agreed, and in 1973, 70 percent of the entire population still supported the idea. Such attitudes were strongly inﬂuenced by age and vulnerability. As a man reached draft age the popularity of the idea dropped to 51 percent. As a man got older and had his service behind him, he became more favorably inclined to ensuring the next generation did its duty. Two years after the tour of duty some 72 percent felt conscription was indispensable. Some 83 percent of citizens over the age of 49 favored continued conscription.41 The rule was “the more draft vulnerable, the less likely to support the system.” Those who had ﬁnished military service were much more supportive of continuing the system than those who had not done their duty. Younger, predraft boys had a higher opinion of the institution than draftage boys. When supporting the institution, there were various motives expressed. The most prominent one was the furthering of social integration, and the least important was combat preparation. A 1970 survey by the Institute Franc¸ais d’Opinion Publique (IFOP) found 54 percent favoring the retention of the system, but two-thirds of all students asked said they wanted to avoid service. In 1976, 72 percent found conscription useful or “indispensable.” Yet by 1980 almost 50 percent of those surveyed doubted the system’s effectiveness and felt it should be either ended or made allvolunteer. The idea of moving to an all-professional army now received support from 50 percent. In 1990, 63 percent of those who had ﬁnished their service felt France could not assure self-defense without the system. Yet 40 percent of those who had not done service felt it could survive easily.42 Translating such public opinion into politically useful information presented problems for all parties. The old dichotomy of the Left supporting conscription and the Right supporting an all-professional force no longer applied. A survey in May 1973 by the IFOP found that the most negative attitudes about continuing the system were found among those with leftist political opinion. Another poll in 1975 asked if military service helped a man’s maturation. Men from rural areas and from working-class areas were most in agreement. In one poll of 1980 the individuals supporting the system were found mainly among those with conservative views, retired, and over age 45. At the national level Pierre Messmer, a Gaullist and former minister of the army, argued that the nation no longer needed large battalions but small, professional forces. Jean-Pierre Cheve`nement, a socialist minister, wanted to keep the system but wished it were more equitable and the tour only six months. Some 43 percent of all RPR electors wished to keep the system as it was; 41 percent wanted reform only. Leftist electors now gave the greatest support to shifting to an all-professional force. In 1995 conservative presidential candidate Jacques Chirac, echoing

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his leftist colleagues, complained that the system was too unequal and the nation needed to move to a professional army.43 Chirac moved in March 1996 to create an all-professional force, but why did it take France so long, compared to Britain and the United States? Undoubtedly the symbolic value of conscription, especially for the Left, explains some of the durability. Polls showed from 1982 to 1990 a continued faith in conscription as indispensable for defense. Yet polls also showed increased support for an all-professional army.44 Eventually the reality of France’s strategic position had to affect the conscription symbol. In the late 1980s France had a strategic nuclear arm that made big battalions redundant. With the end of the Cold War in 1989– 1990, there seemed little need for the 400,000-man French army because the nation faced few threats, except from terrorists. Conscription itself remained beset with problems of surplus manpower and inequity of service. There was no scheme, not deferments nor alternate service, that could account for the 700,000 Frenchmen turning 18 each year.45 Granted all of this, the decision to turn to an all-professional force remained difﬁcult. Chirac made his intentions clear in the election campaign of 1995, but critics were numerous. Some charged that France was succumbing to Anglo-Saxon individualism by conceding this national duty. Others called it jumping on the American wagon. A few pointed to the high cost of an all-professional force.46 To assuage some of these critics Chirac offered a compromise. All French youth at 18 would now attend a rendezvous of one week (soon reduced to one day) to learn about patriotism and history. Then, they could volunteer for a national peace corps–type system of humanitarian duty. But the new president was adamant about the need for a lean and ﬂexible professional force for rapid deployment. In the Gulf War of 1991 the large French army could deploy only 15,000 troops because of constraints on the foreign use of conscripts. Britain, with an army half the size of France, was able to dispatch 30,000 troops. Chirac wanted an imitation of the British force that he called “the best in the world.” He cut the French army strength to 250,000 and began a termination of conscription.47 THE UNITED STATES In contrast to France, the American draft enjoyed bipartisan political support until the 1960s. The basis of this support was derived from several unique features of the American system. First, the decentralized nature of the draft allowed it to draw upon local elites throughout the country. Second, the leadership of the Selective Service System, as personiﬁed by General Lewis Hershey, proved skillful in defending the system against potential problems and coopting potential critics.48 When the new Selective Service System began operations in 1940, staff

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members from the World War I experience emphasized the importance of maintaining good public relations.49 The agency succeeded and enjoyed unprecedented public approval during World War II. Survey after survey found high public approval with the operations of the draft. Asked if the draft had been handled fairly in “your community,” the results were 83 percent yes in May 1941 and 79 percent yes in October 1942. As the draft began to bite deeper into manpower in 1943 some slight signs of disapproval appeared, especially among farmers, but overall the ratings continued to be favorable. From 1943 to May 1945 the approval level ran from 93 percent to 78 percent in June 1945. Approval came from male and female, from all regions of the country and all ages and races. Such ﬁgures led George Gallup to remark: “Few programs in the nation’s history have ever received such an overwhelmingly favorable vote.”50 This political success continued after the war, during the Cold War, the Korean War, and the early years of the Vietnam involvement. When asked in 1944 about a peacetime draft, some 69 percent of respondents said yes, and only 21 percent said no.51 All revisions and extensions of the draft law were passed by lopsided margins in Congress. For a nation that had historically opposed a large standing army and peacetime conscription, this was a remarkable development. Even the expansion for the Vietnam War failed to dent the draft’s popularity until almost 1969. In December 1965, 61 percent of junior and senior high school students felt the draft was fair. A national poll in October 1966 asked if all able-bodied 18-year-old males should be required to serve in the armed forces. Some 69 percent agreed and 24 percent disagreed. But as the war dragged on, draft popularity eroded. By 1969 only about 50 percent continued to support the draft. After President Nixon began pushing his all-volunteer force, public support dropped further.52 The draft had enjoyed a long run of favorable opinion with the American public and politicians, both Republican and Democrat, but there were political problems. Just creating the system in 1940 raised a number of political issues. Although the draft had been used in World War I, with the end of that war Congress rejected any continued compulsory military service.53 In 1940 the Military Training Camp Association again began to push for conscription. Led by Grenville Clark, and other prominent members of the eastern elite, this group wanted an immediate draft and early intervention to provide aid to England. At meetings with the military ofﬁcers, it became obvious that the civilians were far ahead of the army. The military establishment expected to present its draft bill only after a declaration of national mobilization. The civilian lobby was moving too fast for both the ofﬁcers and President Roosevelt. Public opinion seemed ahead of Roosevelt on conscription. In early June 1940 a poll reported that 65 percent of Americans expected a German attack if France and Britain fell. Some 64 percent favored one year of mil-

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itary service for all males at age 20. This was a jump of 14 percent in favor of the draft in just one month. But FDR thought the “time is not ripe yet.” His mail was running two to one against any draft. He encouraged the Clark group to continue their lobbying efforts but seemed to favor a universal service system, independent of military service.54 Roosevelt’s political antennae, one of the ﬁnest instruments in government, was quite active on the issue of the draft. To a leading Democratic Party editor in Illinois, the president wrote that he understood the political effect of pushing conscription. Such a measure might well contribute to the defeat of the national Democratic ticket in November elections. Still, the president emphasized that he had to prepare the nation for war. He emphasized the production of war material and the need for time to train men in the use of weapons. The mythical minuteman might appear in huge numbers if the nation were to be attacked, but in modern war such illtrained warriors armed with shotguns would be of little use. The president also wanted to be sure that any peacetime draft was directed not by the military but by someone sensitive to labor and civil rights.55 The draft law ﬁnally passed on 16 September 1940, without much help from Roosevelt. Even after the adoption of the law and the launching of the Selective Service System, he was concerned over political implications. Democratic Party men warned of the impact on voters if the lottery for the selection of draftees was launched just before the November elections. The president considered delaying the lottery ceremony from 28 October to late November, but he was dissuaded from such a move by White House advisers Harold Smith and James Rowe, Jr. The lottery date was well known, was part of an elaborate organization procedure for Selective Service, and was unlikely to be used politically by Wendell Willkie, the Republican candidate for president. The real disturbance, if there was one, would come not at the lottery but when local draft boards began sending out notices after 8 November. For the president to delay the lottery would be obvious political pandering.56 Despite political concern, the draft began on schedule, with an initial call-up for one year of training, much as the British had launched a sixmonth training draft. The British had then gone to war and transformed their training bill into a military service law. But by November 1941 the United States was still ofﬁcially at peace, and the 12 months of initial training for the ﬁrst draftees was ending. The military leadership and President Roosevelt warned that chaos would follow a discharge of the million men who had already been trained and assigned to units. On 27 May 1941 FDR had proclaimed an unlimited period of national emergency. The Japanese were overrunning Indo-China, and Germany was poised to invade Russia. Now General George Marshall, Chief of Staff of the army, urged that the draft bill be revised to permit use of draftees beyond the continental

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limits and that their tour be extended to six months beyond the end of the period of national emergency.57 The justiﬁcation for this revision of the draft law seemed obvious to Roosevelt. In his message to Congress he pointed to the confusion that would follow the discharge and then, if war occurred, the immediate recall of trained men. The international scene was more threatening now than it had been when the initial law was passed. Yet, surprisingly, political opposition to the revision was strong. For some it seemed as if the government was breaking a promise made to the young men of only one-year duty. Republican George H. Bender of Ohio and others pointed to the German engagement with Russia as a lessening of the threat to the United States. Japan was still “stymied by China.” Rep. Charles A. Halleck of Indiana agreed, and Dewey Short of Missouri said the “mighty war machine of the Soviets is sapping the strength of the Nazis.” For these Republicans the nation was now more secure than it had been.58 When the measure ﬁnally passed by the margin of 203 to 202 in the House, a myth was launched. Subsequent observers argued that this narrow margin was all that continued conscription in the United States, four months before Pearl Harbor. In fact, the vote had no effect on the existence of the draft, which would have continued as before even if the bill had been defeated. This measure merely ensured that the trained men already in uniform remained in and that they could be sent beyond the conﬁnes of the continental United States. Still, the ﬁnal vote showed a strong party effect, with Democrats in the House voting for the bill by a 3 to 1 margin and Republicans opposing it by 6 to 1.59 Except for this aberration, the draft enjoyed bipartisan support after the United States entered the war, with a few exceptions. A few state governors seemed bent on appointing enemies of organized labor to various positions, but this soon blew over. The appointment of minorities to positions also raised some concern, especially because of the segregation practiced by the armed forces in making draft calls. This issue continued to plague the system until the Korean War.60 When Harry Truman became president on 12 April 1945 he explained that the draft was needed to continue military actions in Asia. Congress passed the extension but inserted a provision that required that all inductees under the age of 19 be given six months’ training before going overseas. Neither Truman nor General Marshall liked this revision. Replacements were needed in both Europe and Asia. But Congress was now under pressure to end the draft.61 Norman Thomas, leader of American socialists, had wired President Roosevelt on 21 January 1945 supporting a worldwide move to end the draft because “no nation will endure the costs of general universal conscription except as it is tied up with militarism and imperialism.”62 Although mothers wrote Congress demanding their boys’ return

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and an end of inductions, troops abroad wanted the draft continued to obtain replacements.63 Truman signed Public Law 54, which extended the draft for one year, on 9 May 1945. But in August 1945 the Armed Service Committee of the House began hearings on demobilization. Several representatives urged Truman to cut in half all induction calls. By V-J Day leaders in both the House and Senate opposed continuing the draft; in particular they wanted an end to induction of men under age 20.64 In contrast, General Hershey urged an extension of the draft beyond 1946 as a means to “reassure the peoples of this country and the rest of the world that the United States government is determined to fulﬁll its obligations in securing the peace for which we fought.”65 Military leaders were divided over the need to continue conscription. In August the navy decided to rely exclusively on volunteers. The army had devised an elaborate plan to promote volunteer recruitment and the reenlistments of veterans. Congress passed a law on 6 October 1945 that authorized enlistment tours of 12, 18, 24, and 36 months for men as young as 17. Liberal reenlistment furloughs and cash bonuses were also offered.66 Soon the army cut its draft to cover only replacements. Projected strength was reduced to 2.5 million men and draft calls to 50,000 men a month, all below age 26.67 President Truman himself continued the draft with reluctance. He preferred to create a system of universal military training. This program would call young men for a short period of training, generally six months. The men would then return to civilian life, rather than being assigned to units. It resembled the plan of the Plattsburg movement of pre–World War I days—to improve the health, education, and citizenship of youth and incidentally create a reservoir of trained manpower. As for the existing draft system, Truman felt the atomic explosions at Hiroshima and Nagasaki had changed the defense equation and that Selective Service “is unimportant for long run military security.”68 But the draft had to continue temporarily. America needed occupation forces, and combat veterans wanted replacements. Some even rioted over the slowness of discharge. About 1.2 million men were needed for Europe and the same in Asia. Such ﬁgures could not be achieved without the draft.69 So Truman informed Congress in early September that the draft had to be continued.70 Despite the obvious need and testimony of military leaders, extension raised opposition in Congress, in the homes of future draftees, and also in the Ofﬁce of War Mobilization and Reconversion (OWMR). As in England, the wartime draft had drained off essential workers. A continuation now meant the loss of key personnel for reconversion. John Snyder, the head of the OWMR, wanted the War Department to limit inductions to young men just reaching age 18. But there were not enough of such men.

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The army needed a minimum of 50,000 a month, and only a total of 35,000 men reached 18 each month.71 As 1946 began, military manpower ﬁgures revealed that both the president and the War Department had seriously miscalculated the availability of men, both volunteers and draftees. The SSS had failed to meet its quota of 50,000 men a month, and the War Department now announced a slowing of demobilization. This action irritated mothers, congressmen, and troops awaiting discharge.72 As a temporary solution, the president ordered the induction of men 26 to 30, and the War Department lowered physical standards. Selective Service turned to prison parolees. Senator Edwin C. Johnson told General Hershey that “you are on notice that May 15 is the deadline” for ending the draft.73 Events, however, proved otherwise. On 21 January 1946 Truman announced his postwar military manpower program, calling for draft renewal. Obtaining such an extension in the face of tradition and public opposition was made less difﬁcult by several foreign events.74 On 15 March 1946 Winston Churchill announced the existence of an “Iron Curtain” and elaborated on the dangers of Russian expansion. Now draft renewal became part of the Cold War. Public support materialized for the plan to conscript young men during peace. The political danger of extending conscription was muted by a new public climate. When the war ended a sizable 30 percent of those polled did not think the United States could trust Russia. Some 47 percent did not think the atomic bomb made a large armed force unnecessary; 70 percent favored one year of military training for all young men. In March 1946 some 65 percent favored a continuation of the draft for one year.75 Soviet occupation of Poland and Eastern Europe had an effect on American opinion. The unfolding Cold War revealed itself in Soviet obduracy over German uniﬁcation and threats in the Middle East. On 27 May 1946 the United States suspended reparation payments in equipment from West Germany to Russia. In Greece the British continued to assist a right-wing government ﬁghting leftist guerrillas. A foreign ministers council meeting failed to reach agreement on European peace treaties. Generals MacArthur and Eisenhower declared they needed the draft.76 Senator Warren Austin, delegate to the United Nations, told the press that without new draft legislation the United States could not achieve its foreign policy objectives.77 By 25 June Congress relented and approved a bill providing for further draft extension to 31 March 1947. It exempted all 18-year-olds but made men 19 through 34 liable. Fathers were exempted, and the tour of duty was cut to 18 months. Yet SS was expected to furnish some 300,000 men before the expiration of the draft.78 The House vote was 259 to 110; there was only one negative vote in the Senate,79 but further extension seemed unlikely in the absence of war.

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Congress wanted an all-volunteer approach, as did the military. But this endeavor fell on its face, despite an elaborate advertisement campaign and pay raises.80 The goal for mid-1947 was an army of 1 million men fed by a volunteer enlistment rate of about 40,000 a month. Some volunteers appeared when the G.I. bill beneﬁts were about to expire, but on average the totals were short because of the booming economy. Eisenhower warned that the draft might have to be renewed or extended beyond March 1947. Secretary of War Robert Patterson, however, concluded that the draft was actually hurting the army’s ability to get volunteers. He recommended that the draft be allowed to expire as scheduled.81 On 3 March 1947, Truman made such a recommendation to Congress and the draft ended. The decision reﬂected Truman’s limited options. He could ﬁght Congress for draft renewal, despite the desire of the army to try a recruitment of volunteers, or he could accept the end of the draft and concentrate on pushing UMT. Truman always preferred UMT because it had a less dramatic impact on the nation.82 And the draft was a political headache. Its disruptive impact on domestic institutions was acceptable during war, but now it drew criticism from scientists, educators, and paciﬁsts. Finally, two politically important sectors of the Democratic coalition, organized labor and the black community, both opposed peacetime conscription.83 Of the groups opposing continuation of the draft, none was more vigorous than labor.84 Unions recalled with bitterness that the draft had been used during World War II to prevent workers from shifting to better-paying jobs and to crush strikes.85 In the postwar period Truman had several conﬂicts with unions seeking to maintain their wartime pay levels. The president in May 1946 asked Congress for more power to control unions. Secretary Patterson recommended raising the draft-age eligibility range beyond 30 years so strikers could be threatened.86 The House supported Truman in this idea, but the measure died in the Senate.87 After the 1946 elections created a Republican majority in Congress, the Taft-Hartley Act provided increased presidential power over unions, but without using the draft.88 African Americans also strongly resisted draft renewal during peace. The original draft law contained a nondiscriminatory clause, but the nation had conducted a Jim Crow draft for a Jim Crow armed force.89 Before the end of the war Roy Wilkins of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) told President Roosevelt that Negroes opposed a peacetime draft using the pattern of segregation. Any peacetime draft, Wilkins insisted, had to be color blind. The Fraternal Council of Negro Churches also supported this position.90 Even with racial draft calls, this minority had contributed loyally to the war effort but now drew the line.91 Blacks had approved the wartime draft system.92 In June 1945 a survey showed blacks were more favorable on the question of the fairness of the draft system than were whites. Whites rated

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the draft handled fairly in 66.7 percent of all cases; unfairly, in 19.2 percent. Blacks ranked the draft fair in 69.6 percent of responses and unfair in 14.7 percent.93 Truman was sympathetic to black interest. In December 1946 he created a Civil Rights Commission to study the problems of segregation. The report eventually called for an end to segregation in the armed forces. In his February 1948 address to Congress the president supported this move, and on 30 July 1948 he issued Executive Order 9981 to implement the concept.94 A peacetime draft also proved difﬁcult with a complacent public. The country was enjoying prosperity; employment had reached a high of 62,000,000. Armed force strength was down to 1,445,910, but we had the “bomb.” Some 1,100,000 males reached 18 each year, but not many responded to military recruiters. Opportunities were plentiful in the civilian economy. By 1 March 1948 the army was 129,000 below its authorized strength of 669,000.95 The Truman Doctrine of 1947 committed the United States to a worldwide role of peacekeeping. Still, federal spending on defense dropped from $44,731,000,000 in 1946 to $13,015,000,000 in 1948. The military strength for all services had dropped from 7,545,000 in 1946 to 1,460,000 in ﬁscal 1948.96 In February 1948 the Communist Party in Czechoslovakia, with support from the Soviet Union, completed a coup to gain power. Soviet puppets already controlled Poland and most of Eastern Europe. The Cold War was warming, and once again American preparedness and draft renewal became politically popular. The president moved reluctantly to renew the draft.97 But by early 1948 both the UMT plan and the all-volunteer plan were failing. Secretary of the Army Kenneth C. Royall explained that manpower levels were low. The army needed 30,000 volunteers a month and was getting only 12,000. The American stockpile of atomic weapons held only a dozen bombs of the World War II variety. UMT had little chance of passing Congress.98 On 15 March 1948 the Joint Chiefs of Staff recommended immediate reenactment of the draft. Two days later Truman called for a temporary renewal. Representative Leo Allen, chairman of the Rules Committee of the House, recommended instead that the army beef up volunteer recruiting by offering a bonus of $1,000 to $1,500. Truman thought this suggestion was “asinine.”99 Yet to win congressional support for draft renewal he had to again emphasize the communist menace. A Gallup poll on 24 March found 63 percent in favor of conscription. General Marshall offered his support during congressional hearings, and on 24 June 1948 Congress voted to renew the draft. The report of the House Armed Service Committee of 7 May 1948 stressed that renewal was “the necessary response of this government to speciﬁc, aggressive, and dangerous actions on the part of the Government of the Soviet Union.” Relying on volunteers had led to strength levels falling some 129,000 below authorized numbers.100 The new draft was just the old draft. Organizational components re-

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mained identical to those of 1940. There were changes made in eligibility requirements. All men ages 18 to 26 were required to register and were liable for a 21-month tour. Inductees had to be 19, but an 18-year-old could enlist for 1 year with a commitment to six years in the reserve. The president had power to make rules to protect vital manpower through deferments; local boards retained the ﬁnal say on classiﬁcation. Veterans who had served over one year after 16 September 1940 were not liable.101 With the new draft operating, volunteers ﬂocked to enlist. In the ﬁrst six months after draft renewal the army found 200,000 more volunteers than had been projected without the draft. By 30 January 1950 SS had registered over 10 million young men but drafted only 30,129. Some 368,000 men had enlisted for the army. The air force, navy, and marines met their needs with only volunteers. By 1950 half of all local draft boards operated only part-time. Congress began to cut appropriations for SS and questioned the need to renew its authority. Then came the Korean War.102 With American intervention in Korea in June 1950 the draft again enjoyed bipartisan support and high ratings in the polls, although the Republican opposition was always ready to exploit any disenchantment with the system.103 The war itself eventually led to disenchantment and hurt the Democrats in the 1952 election, but the draft seemed immune to criticism. Draft calls were cut from 523,000 a year in 1953 to 135,000 in 1956. An elaborate deferment system was erected to respond to the surplus in the draft-age cohort. As most eligible youth had some kind of deferment, the draft presented few problems.104 Yet in 1956 Democratic presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson decided to use the draft as a means of attacking the ever popular President Eisenhower. Stevenson, while speaking in Youngstown, Ohio, on 18 October 1956, denounced the draft as wasteful of young talent. The short-term service was costly to both the Department of Defense and to youth preparing for a career. He urged the development of an efﬁcient all-volunteer system. The attack attracted little public response, but the Republican administration replied with a fulsome defense of the draft. Ike pointed to his record of reducing the armed forces to only 2.8 million but insisted that any force above 1.5 million required a draft. He also worried about his opponent’s statement giving aid to the communist power, who had not diverted from “its ﬁxed determination to dominate the world.” Vice President Nixon also offered a stirring defense of the conscription system.105 Nixon continued to call the draft “indispensable” as he ran to succeed Ike in 1960. Although draft calls remained light and the nation was at peace, the issue arose partially because of the British decision to move to an all-professional force. General Hershey had responded to this move by insisting that “there will be need for a draft as far ahead as I can see.” Two Democratic candidates, Humbert Humphrey and Stuart Symington, demurred. Sensing discontent and needing votes, Humphrey announced his

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dissatisfaction with the present system and called for a full review. Symington went even further and called for a move to an all-volunteer force. John Kennedy, who led in the race for the Democratic nomination, did not think the issue worth a comment.106 With Kennedy’s election the draft issue again became moribund. The president made it even easier to escape service by issuing an executive order placing all married men, not just fathers, at the bottom of the call-up list. Since local boards were hardly making a dent in their list of eligibles, the impact of the draft on communities remained very light. Things began to change in 1964 after Lyndon Johnson replaced the assassinated Kennedy. Growing involvement in Vietnam meant higher draft calls. Republicans in Congress began calling in January for a study of the system with its myriad deferments and loopholes. President Johnson, hoping to anticipate potential critics, ordered his own review of the draft by the Department of Defense.107 When the Republicans met to nominate Barry Goldwater for the 1964 election, they began to sense potential votes in the issue. The platform reiterated the call for a reevaluation and went on to demand a shift to an all-volunteer force as soon as possible. Goldwater, who had been responsible for this platform language, continued to stress the issue. Although there was no polling evidence that the issue had votes in it, Goldwater called the draft outmoded and pointed to the way the Johnson administration was using it for social engineering. The secretary of defense had recently announced a plan to induct marginally qualiﬁed youth to give them training for civilian life. Johnson had little need to respond to this criticism, because Goldwater was already bleeding from many self-inﬂicted wounds, with maladroit statements on using atomic weapons and doing away with social security. The Republican carried only six states in the election.108 Few presidents in history have squandered their mandate as recklessly as Johnson did. Having carried over 60 percent of the popular vote and all but six states, he became more and more involved in the Vietnam War. By early 1968 his credibility was so low, and the war so untractable, that he announced his withdrawal from the next race. The protest and disenchantment with the war in Vietnam and the administration’s conduct of it had led to the loss of political credibility not merely for the president but for the institution of conscription. Protest against the war became protest against the draft system. The various deferments erected in response to interest group lobbying and in keeping with the notion of “selective” management of manpower were now seen as the height of discrimination. An image of the draft as an engine for sending minorities and underprivileged youth to die in the jungles of Southeast Asia became all powerful.109 From having been a nonpolitical issue, the draft now became a leading point of controversy. Liberals and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans, became united in opposition to the system. Liberal intellectuals such

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as John K. Galbraith joined conservative economists such as Milton Friedman. Ronald Reagan and Barry Goldwater agreed with Adlai Stevenson. In the 1968 election Humbert Humphrey, the Democratic nominee, and Richard Nixon, the Republican candidate, were old pros who sensed the importance of the issue for their campaigns.110 As early as March 1967 Nixon had been planning a resurrection of his political career. His staff was now quick to point out that attacking the draft would win him “a positive image, especially on the campus and with intellectuals generally.” Since these groups were normally in the Democratic tent, Nixon appreciated the signiﬁcance of such a stance. Despite his past statements in defense of the draft, he now reversed course. Under the tutelage of Martin Anderson, a young economist, Nixon began calling for an end to the discriminatory deferment system and for an eventual move to an all-volunteer force. While the draft had served the nation well in the past, it was an inappropriate instrument for dealing with limited war. When Nelson Rockefeller, his opponent for the Republican nomination, accused him of being a friend of the draft, Nixon reacted with the alacrity of the apostle Peter. He insisted that he wanted an all-volunteer force as soon as the war was over and, if elected, would move to reform the current system.111 Humphrey, who was running with the dubious shadow of LBJ over his shoulder, had earlier called for a massive reform of the system with an end to deferments. He responded to Nixon’s new position by denouncing it as ﬁscally irresponsible. According to Humphrey, the creation of an allvolunteer force would cost an additional $8 to $16 billion more each year. Whatever the cost, Humphrey was searching for a means of winning over the peace vote in the campaign. He ﬁnally offered to end the bombing of North Vietnam, which earned him a last-minute but inadequate surge at the polls. The campaign itself was noteworthy for nefarious actions that set a record even for an American election.112 In Richard Nixon the nation found a man whose very life breath was centered around the political. In short order he moved to defuse the political problem of the war, the draft, and the antiwar protesters. He immediately ordered a full study on how to end the draft and move to an all-volunteer military. In the meantime, he launched a reform of the system, which included a lottery system to determine who was called up. There was never any question about the motivation behind these moves. Politics was to the Nixon White House as gravity was to the solar system. Martin Anderson worked feverishly with various economists to justify the economics of an all-volunteer force, despite the disturbing poll that some 61 percent of youth favored a volunteer army, but 58 percent declined the option to volunteer. Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird strove to reduce draft calls. Nixon ordered an end to draftees going to Vietnam.113 The political campaign plan was working well. In preparing for the 1972

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election a ﬂow chart indicated that Nixon should reform the system in 1970, with “maximum publicity” in 1971, and then end the draft by proclamation just before the 1972 election. In August 1972 Nixon expressed doubt that he could achieve this scenario, but it “might be doable.” He felt such an announcement, especially if it came from him personally, would be “both credible and very, very effective.” It could have a “signiﬁcant effect” on the election. He did make an announcement, and it did have an effect. He won a landslide majority over George McGovern in November 1972. But a second-rate burglary at the Watergate headquarters of the Democratic National Committee came back to prevent Nixon from enjoying his triumph over the draft and at the polls.114

NOTES 1. See John W. Chambers II, To Raise an Army: The Draft Comes to Modern America (New York: Free Press, 1987). 2. Elizabeth Kier, Imagining War: French and British Military Doctrine between the Wars (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997), p. 69; John Sweetman, “Historical Perspective: From Waterloo to the Currah,” in John Sweetman, ed., Sword and Mace: Twentieth-Century Civil-Military Relations in Britain (London: Brassey, 1986), p. 12; R.J.Q. Adams & P. P. Poirier, The Conscription Controversy in Great Britain, 1900–1918 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1987), p. 17. 3. Adams & Poirier, Conscription, pp. 22, 47, 88–92; F. W. Perry, The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organisation in Two World Wars (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), p. 6; Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 91. 4. Peter Dennis, Decision by Default: Peacetime Conscription and British Defence 1919–39 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1972), pp. 76, 124–125. 5. L. V. Scott, Conscription and the Attlee Governments: The Politics and Policy of National Service 1945–1951 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), pp. 1, 3; Dennis, Decision, pp. 148, 195–196; George H. Gallup, ed., Gallup International Public Opinion Polls: Great Britain, 1937–1975, 2 vols. (New York: Random House, 1976) (hereafter cited as POGB), I: 1 January 1937, p. 1. 6. Dennis, Decision, pp. 149, 164; H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), p. 60. 7. Gallup, POGB, I: 3, 10, 12. 8. Dennis, Decision, p. 204. 9. Scott, Conscription, p. 2; Dennis, Decision, p. 198; Gallup, POGB, I: 17– 18. 10. R. H. Branch (?) to Bevin, 3 May 1940, Ernest Bevin Papers, Churchill College, Cambridge, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as Bevin, mss), II, 9/1; Bevin to Churchill, 13 May 1940, ibid.; Gallup, POGB, I: 1 December 1941, p. 50; see Secret minute by DeVilliers, 4 December 1942, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO), Lab6/196.

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11. Gallup, POGB, I: 80, 105, 107. 12. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 253; Gallup, POGB, I: 119. 13. Scott, Conscription, pp. 93–94, 135, 140–141, 243, 263, 269, 273, 275; Army Council Secretariat, extract from meeting of Def. Com., 16 October 1946, PRO/WO32/12242; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 224. 14. Scott, Conscription, pp. 11, 120, 133, 273; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 229–230. 15. Army Council Secretariat (ACS), extract from 20th meeting of Cabinet, 11 February 1947, PRO/WO32/12242; ibid., 6 December 1948; A. V. Alexander to E. Shinwell, 6 November 1947, ibid.; Brief for Min. of Defence, 21 May 1947, PRO, Lab6/583; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 233; Scott, Conscription, pp. 73, 218. 16. Quote in Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: p. 236; ACS, extract of Cabinet meeting, 6 December 1948, PRO/WO32/12242; ibid., 22 February 1949; ibid., 14 November 1949; John Lang to Harold Parker, 21 January 1949, ibid., Aidan Crawley to Liddell-Hart, 5 May 1949, B. H. Liddell-Hart Papers, States House, Medmenham, Marlow, Bucks., King’s College, London (hereafter cited as LHP), 1/200/12; Liddell-Hart to Crawley, 9 May 1949, ibid., 1/200/13; Scott, Conscription, p. 249. 17. Scott, Conscription, p. 260. 18. Gallup, POGB, I: 1 October 1952, p. 279; ibid., 1 May 1954, p. 326; C. Lloyd, “The Integration of National Service with the Country’s Economic Future,” Journal of the Royal United Service Institution 100 (1955): 187; Norman Dodds to Anthony Eden, 1 September 1955, PRO, DEFE (Papers of Defense Ministry) 13/ 53; Mins. of Meet Min. of Def. on NS, 9 September 1955, PRO, DEFE 7/979. 19. R. I. Raitt, “The George Knight Clowes Memorial Prize Essay, 1961,” Army Quarterly 83 (October 1961): 36–37. 20. G. Bonnardot, “De la Conscription a` l’arme´e de me´tier,” De´fense nationale (May 1992): 88; M. of Def. M. S. Wilson to H. H. Sellar, 12 October 1956, PRO, DEFE 7/808. 21. Gallup, POGB, I: 1 October 1955, p. 358; ibid., 1 October 1957, p. 431; ibid., 1 September 1955, p. 355; Bonnardot, “Conscription,” pp. 88–89; Leonard F. Behrens to Liddell-Hart, 2 November 1955, LHP, 1/55/36a. 22. First quote, A. J. N. to Sir Richard Powell, min. re future of NS, 30 No. 1956, PRO, DEFE 7/808; Meeting in Min. of Def., 4 October 1956, ibid.; Min. of Def. to H. H. Sellar, 12 October 1956, ibid. 23. Meeting in Min. of Def.: Walter Monckton, M of D, chair; Iain Macleod, MLNS; Viscount Hailsham, First Lord of Adm.; Antony Head, Sect. of State for War; Christopher Soames, Undersec. of State for Air, 4 October 1956, PRO, DEFE 7/808; Raitt, “George,” p. 37. 24. Gallup, POGB, I: 2 May 1962, p. 637; Economist, 2 March 1996, p. 45; Parliamentary Debates, 5th ser., vol. 648 (31 October 1961): 46. 25. Michel L. Martin, “Raison de conscience et raison d’e´tat: L’Objection au service militaire en France,” Annales de l’Universite´ de Toulouse 31 (1991): 20– 21; Michel L. Martin, Warriors to Managers: The French Military Establishment since 1945 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981), p. 137. 26. Several scholars have commented on this paradox, but see Kier, Imagining, pp. 68–69.

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27. Ibid., pp. 68–69, 87. 28. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 72–74, 79; Eugenia C. Kiesling, Arming against Hitler: France and the Limits of Military Planning (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1996), p. 25. 29. Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 21; Robert O. Paxton, Parades and Politics at Vichy: The French Ofﬁcer Corps under Marshal Petain (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966), p. 16; Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 75– 78; Kiesling, Arming, p. 25. 30. M. Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes to the Army’s Role in French Society,” British Journal of Sociology 15 (December 1964): 347; Kier, Imagining, p. 65. 31. Quote in Kier, Imagining, p. 62 (see also pp. 56 and 65); Robert A. Doughty, The Seeds of Disaster: The Development of French Army Doctrine, 1919– 1939 (Hamden, Conn.: Archon, 1985), pp. 17, 120. 32. Paxton, Parades, p. 19; Kier, Imagining, pp. 61, 66–67; Henry Dutailly, Les Proble`mes de l’arme´e de terre franc¸aise (1935–1939) (Paris: SHAT, 1980), p. 211; on French political instability see Anthony Adamthwaite, France and the Coming of the Second World War, 1936–1939 (London: Frank Cass, 1977), pp. 26, 28; Maurice Larkin, France since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936–1986 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), p. 36; Doughty, Seeds, p. 112. 33. Robert Gildea, France since 1945 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 76; Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes,” pp. 347–348. 34. Michel L. Martin, “Conscription and the Decline of the Mass Army in France, 1960–1975,” Armed Forces and Society 3(3) (1977): 380, 385; Martin, Warrior, pp. 139, 146, 159; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 21. 35. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 776, 778, 780; Larkin, France, pp. 255, 276; Martin, Warrior, p. 175n107; Clifford-Vaughan, “Changing Attitudes,” p. 348. 36. Pierre Dabezies, “French Political Parties and Defense Policy: Divergences and Consensus,” Armed Forces and Society 8(2) (1982): 243, 244, 250; Gerard Vaillant, “Le Service national en question,” De´fense National 33(5) (1977): 147– 148; Martin, “Conscription,” p. 375. 37. Bernard Tricot, “Dossier pour la reforme de recrutement,” De´fense nationale 21 (1965): 957; Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es, E´cole Militaire, Paris (hereafter cited as SIRPA), Actual-5, 19 December 1994, p. 1; London Times, clip, May 11, 1965, in LHP, 15/5/23; Vaillant, “Le Service,” p. 148. 38. George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup International Public Opinion Polls, France 1939, 1944–1975, 2 vols. (New York: Random House, 1976), I: 115, 376, 396, 411–412; Meeting of Chiefs of Staff under President Pleven, 3 June 1952, Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV), 6T296, EMAT, 1oBur; London Times, 27 May 1965, clip in LHP, 15/5/23; Note by Sec. d’e´tat a la guerre, 1er bur, on problems posed to army by goverment decisions of May and June 1954, 21 Jun 54, MACV, 6T296–2, EMAT, 1oBur/EG. 39. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 849; London Times, 27 May 1965, clip in LHP, 15/5/23; SIRPA, doss. SN, 1964, p. 5; Martin, “Conscription,” pp. 382, 385; Franc¸ois Cailleteau, “La Conscription: Les E´le´ments du proble`me,” De´fense nationale (January 1990): 16; Le Monde, 25 April 1973, p. 1; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 19. In 1988 only 2.5 percent of all draftees were in

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paramilitary or civilian jobs. See Charles Moskos & J. W. Chambers, The New Conscientious Objection (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 93. 40. Maurice Faivre, Les Nations arme´es de la guerre des peuples a` la guerre des e´toiles (Paris: FEDN, 1988), p. 178; SIRPA, actual, 17, 23 February 1995; Michel Labro, “Faut-il supprimer le service militaire?” L’Express, 5 May 1980, pp. 34–35. 41. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 852; Martin, “Conscription,” p. 393. 42. Feldman, “An Illusion of Power,” III: 850; Martin, Warrior, pp. 155–158, 175n117; Labro, “Faut-il supprimer,” pp. 34–35; Defense et Jeunes, January 1990, p. 1; Direction Controle du Service National, Le Service National en chiffres, 1991 (Paris: SIRPA, 1992), p. 23; Arme´es jeunesse 41 (January 1993): 72, 76, 78; Cailleteau, “La Conscription,” p. 15. 43. Labro, “Faut-il supprimer,” p. 35; Martin, Warrior, pp. 158–159; Martin, “Raison de conscience,” p. 19; Vaillant, “Le Service,” p. 147; London Times, 27 May 1965, clip, in LHP, 15/5/23; press release, 9 January 1995, Institut des Hautes E´tudes de De´fense Nationale (IHEDN), Paris, /2222/presse. 44. Summary of debates in National Assembly on duration of tour for draftee, Assemble´e nationale, de´bats, 1989–1990; Service National en chiffres, 1991, p. 23; Armes jeunesse, 1 January 1993, pp. 74–75. 45. Dabezies, “French,” p. 240; Le Monde, 26 April 1973, p. 7; Assemble´e nationale, de´bats, 1989–1990, synopsis, Economist, 2 March 1996, p. 48. 46. Washington Post, 8 February 1997; B. Boene & Michel L. Martin, “Introduction,” in B. Boene & Michel L. Martin, eds., Conscription et arme´e de me´tier (Paris: FEDN, 1991), p. 15; Cailleteau, “La Conscription,” p. 20; Economist, 2 March 1996, p. 45. 47. Washington Post, 8 February 1997, p. 16; Economist, 10 February 1996, p. 48; ibid., 2 March 1996, pp. 45, 48. 48. See George Q. Flynn, Lewis B. Heshey, Mr. Selective Service (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985). 49. John D. Langston for Col. O’Kelliher, 28 February 1941, Record Group (RG) 147, Box 69, National Archives, Washington, D.C. (hereafter cited as NA). 50. Surveys by Ofﬁce of War Information, 9 January 1942, VF 200x1, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Pa. (hereafter cited as LBH); “Public Reaction to the Draft . . .”, report by OWI, memo, no. 46, 9 January 1943, RG 147, Box 67, E. 15, NA; Gallup quote in unsigned memo on public opinion and draft, 1945, VF 100S11a, LBH; Gallup poll on fairness of draft, 1 January 1944 and 1 June 1945, VF 100S11a, LBH. 51. Fortune magazine poll, 1 January 1944, VF 357C3, LBH. 52. David R. Segal, “The All-Volunteer Force in a Multidisciplinary Perspective,” in Michael L. Martin & E. S. McCrate, eds., The Military, Militarism, and the Polity: Essays in Honor of Morris Janowitz (New York: Free Press, 1984), p. 177; George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion, 1935–1971, 3 vols. (New York: Random House, 1972), III: 2016–2017, 2032. 53. J. Garry Clifford & Samuel R. Spenser, Jr., The First Peacetime Draft (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1986), pp. 31, 37; see Chambers, To Raise. 54. Clifford &, Spenser, First, pp. 13, 26, 49. 55. Roosevelt to L. B. Sheley, 26 August. 1940, PSF, Box 103, War Dept., Franklin Roosevelt Papers, Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, N.Y. (hereafter cited as

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FDRP); Harold Smith conference with Roosevelt, 24 September 1940, H. Smith Papers, vol. 12, Pres., FDRP. 56. Harold D. Smith and James Rowe, Jr., memo for President, 14 October 1940, PSF, Box 103, War Dept., FDRP; James Rowe, Jr., to President, ibid. 57. George Q. Flynn, The Draft, 1940–1973 (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1993), pp. 49–50. 58. FDR message to Congress, 21 July 1941, OF, Box 844, ﬁle 245, FDRP; Memo on congressional debate over draft extension, 12 August 1941, ibid. 59. Ibid.; Roll call vote for draft extension, 21 July 1941, ibid. 60. See George Q. Flynn, “Selective Service and American Blacks during World War II,” Journal of Negro History 69 (Winter 1984): 14–25; DJ ﬁle memo, 16 September 1940, Box 1, OF 1413, FDRP; Telegrams from labor leaders to President, 30 September 1940, Box 7, misc. OF 1413, FDRP; Telegrams to Col. Hershey, 17 October 1940, ibid., Box 5; A. P. Ardourel to Frank C. Walker, 24 September 1943, ibid., Box 7. 61. Truman statement, 9 May 1945, Zimmerman ﬁles, Box 9, Harry S. Truman Library, Independence, Mo. (hereafter cited as HST); Marshall to Rep. Andrew J. May, 2 May 1945, item 5317, reel 360, George C. Marshall Papers, Marshall Research Center, Lexington, Va. (hereafter cited as GCMP); Stimson to Senator Brian McMahon, 15 May 1945, ibid. 62. Willard Waller, “A Sociologist Looks at Conscription,” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Sciences 241 (September 1945): 97; Norman Thomas to President, 21 January 1945, Box 4, OF 1413, FDRP. 63. Philip B. Fleming to Matthew J. Connelly, 18 August 1945, Connelly Papers, Box 1, Cabinet Minutes, HST. 64. James M. Gerhardt, The Draft and Public Policy (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1971), pp. 38–39; New York Times: 15 August 1945, p. 13; 27 August 1945, p. 12. 65. Quote in Hershey to President, 5 December 1946, Clifford Papers, HST; Hershey to Director of War Mobilization and Reconversion, 11 August 1945, White House ﬁle, LBH; New York Times, 27 August 1945, p. 1; see Flynn, L. B. Hershey, chap. 6. 66. Forrestal to President, 23 August 1945, ﬁle 245, Box 844, OF, HST; Rocco M. Paone, “The Last Volunteer Army, 1946–1948,” Military Review 49 (December 1969): 11–12; see Michael S. Sherry, Preparing for the Next War (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1977). 67. Stimson to Fred Vinson, 30 May 1945, item 5317, reel 360, GCMP; Stimson to President, 11 August 1945, ibid. 68. Quote in Notes of Cabinet Meeting, 17 August 1945, Connelly Papers, Box 1, HST; Truman to Governor Olin D. Johnston, 20 August 1945, Box 844, OF 245, ibid. 69. Paone, “Volunteer,” p. 9; Marshall to President, 16 August 1945, reel 360, item 5317, GCMP; Minutes of Cabinet Meeting, 17 August 1945, Connelly Papers, Box 1, HST. 70. Truman to Johnston, 20 August 1945, OF 245, Box 844, HST; Truman to Andrew J. May, 27 August 1945, Frank V. Keesling Papers, privately held, San Francisco, Calif.; Patterson to President, 5 October 1945, OF 419, Box 1258, HST. 71. OWMR Report on Demobilization, 2 November 1945, SS, reel 659, item

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6106, GCMP; John Snyder to Secretary of War, 10 November 1945, ibid.; Marshall to Snyder, 3 December 1945, ibid.; Patterson to Snyder, 3 December 1945, reel 360, item 5317, ibid. 72. New York Times: 1 January 1946, p. 1; 5 January 1946, p. 26; 10 January 1946, p. 22; 16 January 1946, p. 15; 18 January 1946, p. 6. 73. Quote from U.S. Congress, Senate, Military Affairs Committee, Hearings on Demobilization, 79th Cong., 1st and 2nd sess., 18 January 1946, p. 408; Hershey to Kenneth C. Royall, 25 January 1946, Op-War ﬁle, LBH; New York Times: 21 January 1946, p. 22; 29 January 1946, p. 8; 15 February 1946, p. 11; 1 April 1946, p. 14; 2 May 1946, p. 8; Selective Service Newsletter, 1 April 1946, p. 1; Hershey to Attorney General, 30 January 1946, legal ﬁle, LBH; Patterson report, 1 February 1946, Cabinet minutes, Connelly Papers, Box 1, HST; Gerhardt, Draft, p. 42. 74. Senate, Hearings on Demobilization, pp. 421–422; Gerhardt, Draft, pp. 42, 50; New York Times: 19 January 1946, p. 7; 22 January 1946, p. 16; Eisenhower to Hershey, 21 January 1946, OP-War ﬁle, LBH. 75. See Gallup, Gallup Poll, I: 523, 527, 529, 539, 546, 566–567. 76. New York Times: 30 May 1946, p. 4; 28 May 1946, p. 1; 1 June 1946, p. 12; 3 June 1946, p. 1; 15 June 1946, p. 6. 77. New York Times: 8 June 1946, p. 6; 11 June 1946, p. 5; 18 June 1946, p. 27; 24 June 1946, p. 33. 78. Hershey to President, 26 June 1946, OF 245, Box 844, HST. 79. New York Times: 16 May 1946, p. 20; 5 June 1946, p. 1; 26 June 1946, p. 1. 80. See Paone, “Volunteer,” pp. 10–12. 81. Ibid., p. 10ff. 82. The historiography is represented by John L. Gaddis, The United States and Origins of the Cold War, 1941–1947 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972); idem, Strategies of Containment (New York: Oxford, 1982); and Walter LaFeber, America, Russia and the Cold War, 1945–1980, 8th ed. (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1996) who is more critical. 83. Hershey to President, 25 March 1946, OF 245, Box 852, HST; President to Lemke, 27 March 1946, ibid.; Lemke to President, 28 March and 9 April 1946, ibid.; Truman to Lemke, 15 April 1946, ibid. 84. New York Times, 15 April 1946, p. 13. 85. Selective Service, Research & Statistics Memo, “Labor Turnover,” 18 April 1945, VF 320S18, LBH. 86. New York Times, 26 May 1946, p. 1; Patterson to President, 24 May 1946, OF 419-F, Box 1261, HST. 87. New York Times, 26 May 1946, pp. 1, 26. 88. Ibid.: 27 May 1946, p. 1; 28 May 1946, pp. 1, 3, 20; 29 May 1946, pp. 1– 2, 4; 30 May 1946, pp. 1, 3. 89. Selective Service System, Special Groups: Special Monograph No. 10, 2 vols. (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), I: 51–52. 90. Wilkins to President, 5 January 1945, UMT Advisory Commission ﬁle, Box 3, HST; Richard M. Dalﬁume, Desegregation of the United States Armed Forces (Columbus: University of Missouri Press., 1969), p. 103. 91. Through 1 November 1946, a total of 1,074,398 blacks had been drafted,

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and 88,475 had enlisted. Of the 11,896 conscientious objectors during the war, only 122 were blacks. Blacks made up 10.6 percent of all registrants and 10.7 percent of all inductions. 92. Altogether some 1,800 black civilians worked as volunteers in the system. See Flynn, “Selective Service,” pp. 14–25; Campbell Johnson, Report to State Director’s Conference, 21 March 1947, Box 34, ﬁle 120.2, RG 147–97, NA. 93. Gallup Poll of 1 June 1945, in VF 100S11a, LBH. 94. See William C. Berman, The Politics of Civil Rights in the Truman Administration (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1970); Morris MacGregor, Integration in the Armed Forces (Washington, D.C.: Ofﬁce of Chief of Military History, 1981); Dalﬁume, Desegregation, p. 155. 95. Edward A. Fitzpatrick, “The Volunteer and the Conscript in American Military History,” Current History 38 (April 1960): 212. 96. Stephen E. Ambrose, Rise to Globalism, 4th rev. ed. (New York: Penguin, 1985), pp. 96–99; U.S. Department of Commerce, Historical Statistics of the United States, 2 pts. (Washington, D.C.: Department of Commerce, 1975), II: 1116; U.S. Department of Defense, Selected Manpower Statistics, Fiscal Year 1989 (Washington, D.C.: Directorate for Information Operations and Reports, 1989), p. 58. 97. Clay Blair, The Forgotten War: America in Korea, 1950–1953 (New York: Times Books, 1987), pp. 4–29. 98. Gerhardt, Draft, p. 87; Blair, Forgotten War, pp. 9–10. 99. Gerhardt, Draft, pp. 87, 112; Presidential speech ﬁle, 17 March 1948, Clifford ﬁle, HST. 100. Flynn, Hershey, pp. 168–169; Gerhardt, Draft, p. 93; Selective Service System, Selective Service under the 1948 Act (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1951), pp. 7–8. 101. Harry A. Marmion, “Historical Background of Selective Service in the United States,” in Roger Little, ed., Selective Service and American Society (New York: Russell Sage, 1969), p. 42; Selective Service System, Selective Service under 1948 Act, p. 26. 102. Gary L. Wamsley, Selective Service and a Changing America (Columbus, Ohio: Merrill, 1969), p. 199; Selective Service System, Selective Service under 1948 Act, p. 90; Richard Gillam, “The Peacetime Draft: Voluntarism to Coercion,” in Martin Anderson, ed., The Military Draft: Selected Readings on Conscription (Stanford, Calif.: Hoover Institution, 1982), pp. 106, 108; Gerhardt, Draft, p. 126. 103. William M. Boyle to Matthew J. Connelly, 1 November 1950, OF 440, Box 288, HST. 104. Eisenhower press statement, 7 October 1956, Cent. ﬁle, OF, Box 664, Dwight David Eisenhower Papers, Eisenhower Library, Abilene, Kans. (hereafter cited as DDE). 105. Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1983), II: 348–349; Stevenson speech, 18 October 1956, in WHCF, Martin Anderson ﬁle, Box 11, Richard M. Nixon Presidential Project, Alexandria, Va. (hereafter cited as RMN); Eisenhower statement, 7 October 1956, Cent. ﬁle, OF, Box 664, DDE. 106. Quote in “The Draft—Campus to Chaos,” Newsweek, 4 April 1960, pp. 33–40; Flynn, Draft, p. 164. 107. Robert K. Grifﬁth, Jr., “About Face? The U.S. Army and the Draft,” Armed Forces and Society 12 (Fall 1985): 115; Bruce Chapman, “Selective Service and

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National Needs,” The Reporters, 16 June 1966, p. 15; “Can We Do Away with the Draft?” Business Week, 12 September 1964, p. 29. 108. Grifﬁth, “About Face,” p. 115; Chapman, “Selective Service,” p. 15; “Can We Do Away,” p. 29; Republican platform, 14 July 1964, in WHCF, Anderson, Box 11, RMN; Goldwater speech, in Chicago Tribune, 4 September 1964, in ibid. 109. For the class bias of service in Vietnam see the following debate: James Fallows, “What Did You Do in the Class War, Daddy?” Washington Monthly 7 (October 1975): 5–19; Arnold Barnett, Timothy Stanley, & Michael Shore, “America’s Vietnam Casualties: Victims of a Class War?” Operations Research 40 (September–October 1992): 856–866; Bill Abbott, “Names on the Wall,” Vietnam (June 1993): 34–43; “Vietnam: Who Served and Who Did Not?” Wilson Quarterly (Summer 1993): 127–129. 110. New York Times, 22 May 1967, p. 17; John Chamberlain in Human Events, in WHCF, Anderson, Box 41, AVAF, RMN; Newsletter by Council for a Volunteer Military, 2 June 1968, ibid. 111. Grifﬁth, “About Face,” pp. 119–120; W. H. Peterson to Raymond Price, Jr., 20 March 1967, WHCF, Anderson, Box 14, RMN; Nixon press conference, 1968, ibid.; Herb Klein to Anderson, 27 June 1968, ibid., Box 11. 112. Grifﬁth, “About Face,” p. 120. See Theodore White, The Making of the President, 1968 (New York: Atheneum, 1969); Lewis Chester, An American Melodrama: The Presidential Campaign of 1968 (London: Literary Guild, 1969). 113. Morris Janowitz, Military Conﬂict: Essays in the Institutional Analysis of War and Peace (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1975), p. 248; Nick Thimmesch, for Newsday, 6 February 1969, in WHCF, Anderson, Box 11, RMN. 114. “1970 campaign factbook on draft,” 30 April 1970, WHCF, Haldeman, Box 373, RMN; Unsigned chart, 16 March 1970, AVF ﬁle, WHCF, Anderson, Box 37, RMN; Quotes from Nixon memo for Haldeman, 17 August 1972, WHSF, Haldeman, Box 162, ibid.

Chapter 12

Evaluation and Conclusions In the end it worked. Despite the protest and inconsistencies, the criticism and waste, conscription served the three Western democracies well in a particular historical context. It proved effective in gathering ﬁghting men for the two great wars of the 20th century, and it even worked for more limited conﬂicts such as Korea and Vietnam. The democracies won the world wars for many reasons, but one reason not to be discounted was their ability to man the divisions, battalions, ships, and planes needed to defeat the enemy. Notwithstanding the protest against the draft, evasions of duty proved an inconsequential problem for all three nations, even during the most unpopular of colonial conﬂicts. Part of the reason for the success of conscription was its ability to cope and change with particular problems. These problems included the protection of students, trainees, key personnel, and vital workers. In England and the United States, and ﬁnally France, the system also gave regard to the recognition of conscientious objection. But most of all the system succeeded because of the enthusiasm and consensus generated by ﬁghting for survival in a condition of total war. Without pressure exerted within the community, the ofﬁcials of conscription could not have achieved the same level of success. Peer pressure rather than police ensured cooperation with the system. But this also meant that in the absence of total war, conscription had more problems. The system began to collapse at different times in the three nations, but the general climates contributing to decline were similar. After 1945 a new type of war faced France, Britain, and the United States. These more limited conﬂicts in colonial areas failed to require the type of total mobilization seen in 1914 and 1939. The stakes of the conﬂicts were also limited and

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failed to generate the type of patriotic consensus and sacriﬁce seen in the wake of Pearl Harbor. There was little sense of imminent peril to survival, despite the rhetoric of the Cold War and the communist menace. The nature of the ﬁghting also changed. Even in the Korean War, which required more traditional tactics, there were new limits to engagement. In the guerrilla conﬂicts of Algeria, Vietnam, and Malayasia there was less need of big battalions and huge draft calls. Conscription was designed to rally the entire nation to arms. In the post1945 world the Western nations fought limited wars with a limited commitment. Their economies remained largely civilian oriented. More important, their populations expanded well beyond military needs. The demographic trends in all three nations generated increasingly large cohorts of 18-year-old males at a time when defense policy required fewer and fewer such men. Draft calls were reduced as available manpower increased. The attempts to adjust the system to cope with this disparity led to a mangling of the original purpose of conscription. From the task of ﬁnding ﬁghting men, the system evolved into a scheme for “channeling” youth into colleges and special occupations. Youth could now serve as tennis instructors rather than in military assignments. Such a distortion, when combined with national disagreement on defense policy, led to calls for an end to conscription. No draftees fought in the allied armies of France, Britain, and the United States during the Gulf War of 1991. The conscript’s day was over. Events rather than protest had killed the beast. The problem of making conscription work varied in degrees of difﬁculty in the three democratic nations under review. The commitment to individual rights made things more complex. France had the advantage of being able to tie conscription to the revolution myth, to the emergence of its republic. The leve´e en masse was another symbol of its modern nationhood. But Britain and the United States had no such handy device. In these AngloSaxon countries conscription provoked protest. The opposition to the idea was always strong, if quiescent during national emergencies.

GREAT BRITAIN England prided itself on its professional army, but in the 20th century conﬂicts required compulsory military service. This move met resistance from the laboring classes and small farmers, who looked upon the draft as a direct threat to their freedom. In the past armies had often been used to crush strikes. The various dissenting religions also posed a barrier to conscription. The peace churches, including the Quakers, Friends, and others, opposed all war and viewed conscription as a sure path to such conﬂict. In addition, the draft threatened their freedom of conscience. These groups

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offered the most serious organized opposition to conscription in both world wars.1 There was also opposition based on democratic and military theory. During the 1930s, as Britain sought to respond to the German belligerence on the continent, the debate on conscription was renewed. A poll of January 1937 revealed that only 25 percent favored the idea.2 Perhaps the most important ﬁgure in opposition was Major B. H. Liddell-Hart, military writer and thinker. Liddell-Hart’s main motive was to promote a British army characterized by professionalism, high technical skills, mobility, and ﬂexibility. He viewed conscription as a road to the cumbersome mass infantry divisions of World War I. Realizing that such an argument would lack mass appeal, he instead focused on more philosophical issues, such as individual freedom. He called a move to conscription a “decisive step towards totalitarianism” and a violation of British tradition. For LiddellHart, the free volunteer provided a more superior type than the draftee. Rather than infecting the professional army with thousands of misﬁts and malcontents, one should let natural selection operate through volunteering. The volunteer was “more likely than the pressed man to have the moral quality which is required.”3 Among serving military ofﬁcers there was also some doubt about the value of conscription. Few looked with enthusiasm upon the diversion of many trained regular ofﬁcers and NCOs to training camps for draftees.4 Neither did the existing British reserve unit, the Territorial Army, think much of the idea. Lt. Col. J. K. Dunlop of the Territorials denounced the draft as alien to British tradition and too expensive. Why not simply provide better training for an expanded Territorial Army, he asked?5 The antidemocratic argument by Liddell-Hart and others was easily answered. Critics pointed out that compulsion was at the heart of democracy, rather than against it. Outside of an anarchist or two, no one seriously questioned the right of the state to compel for the greater good. The very idea of liberty made sense only within a system of state-imposed constraints. European states such as Switzerland, France, Belgium, and Sweden had no problem with maintaining both conscription and democracy. One of the French arguments for the system was its tendency to promote brotherhood and social integration among classes. As for British tradition, another tradition was experimentation and pragmatism.6 The religious objection was not so easily answered. In most cases opposition sprang not from a reasoned critique of conscription but from an inner voice that distrusted any militarism. In the spring of 1939 such groups as the National Peace Council, the No-conscription League, the Christian Paciﬁst Group, and others held meetings, gave speeches, and published pamphlets to defeat the idea of conscription. On 5 May 1939 about 2,000 marched in London to publicize their opposition. Labor union ofﬁcials joined in this distrust of the military.7

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When it could not answer criticism, the government offered accommodations. If the paciﬁst could satisfy a tribunal or his peers, he was offered noncombat service or civilian work or no service at all. While still disliking conscription and distrusting militarism, this group was disarmed through such options. To union ofﬁcials the government offered close participation in the rule drafting and execution of the system. Special workers received special deferments, because British conscription became total, for soldiers and civilian tasks. The feeling that everyone was in the same compulsory boat, together with the clear malevolence of the enemy, helped defuse opposition. By and large the hecklers who surrounded the labor marchers in London provided a better barometer of public opinion. Although in January 1937, 75 percent of the public polled had rejected conscription, by July only 18 percent did so. Following the same general path as American opinion, and responding to the mounting crisis in Europe, the British public moved closer to adopting conscription as a necessary precaution. With each action by the government requiring more compulsion, the public responded with more enthusiasm.8 Such sentiments were, of course, a function of the emergency. As soon as the war was over, the British public returned to its antidraft mentality. The British retained peacetime conscription until 1960, and throughout the 1950s it received constant criticism. Many men, especially professionals, complained of being inducted to do nothing. Novels and plays, such as Virgin Soldier, Chips with Everything, and Ginger You’re Barmy, appeared lampooning the idea of national service. But such criticism failed to be translated into an attempt to resist or evade the operation of conscription.9 The draft law provided the authority to punish resistance, but it was seldom needed. Minister Bevin, himself a former Labour leader, had little sympathy for coercion or for prosecuting workers even when they resisted a relocation order or went on strike.10 He generally preferred to exhaust the usual remedies of management-labor disputes. Although he ﬁnally did become more aggressive, a threat usually sufﬁced. Bevin issued an order that any apprentice who struck was to be called for a medical exam and, if ﬁt, sent to the army. But labor leaders succeeded in quelling disturbances before any government action.11 By January 1944 a total of 1.5 million men had gone out on strike, but only 5,000 had been charged with an offense and fewer than 2,000 convicted.12 A more common and less noticeable manner of resisting conscription was simply to fail to respond to the order to register and submit for examination. The National Service (Armed Forces) Act 1939 provided that persons guilty of such a failure were liable on summary conviction to a ﬁne of £5, if they proved no intent to evade or deceive. If a man knowingly evaded or gave false information, he was liable upon conviction to three months in jail or a ﬁne up to £50 or both. By 1941 the law had been changed to

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provide that any person who failed to submit himself for examination was subject to up to two years in jail and a ﬁne up to £100.13 To make enforcement more effective, and to create draftees rather than criminals, the legal system was innovated. Actions by local boards were not subject to judicial review. The courts could order a man registered and examined against his will. And ﬁnally, a violator remained liable to register and serve after his jail punishment. These provisions merely complemented the enormous peer pressure and surge of patriotism that were the ﬁrst means of effecting full compliance. And the British achieved a very high level of compliance. In an analysis done by the MLNS on failure to register or submit to medical exam from June 1939 to June 1953, the following ﬁgures emerged: Failure to register: Reports received

11,674

Medical exam cases 1,165 Otherwise cleared

10,384

Outstanding

125

Failure to submit to medical exam: Nonregistered cases

1,165

Other cases

16,149

Otherwise cleared

10,074

Outstanding

19514

Subsequent surveys found that from 10 April 1941 to 30 June 1955 only 3,491 men were prosecuted for failing to attend a medical exam. The majority of these men served less than one year as punishment.15 Evasion, resistance, and protest proved very ephemeral in the operation of the British system. Even during the Cold War, when the ministry operated a peacetime national service system, without the drama and peer pressure present during World War II, the British citizen responded to his call-up with a resignation surprising in a nation so unfamiliar with such a system. THE UNITED STATES The United States experienced a higher level of draft protest than either France or Great Britain. For American youth, compulsory military service represented an infringement of liberty unprecedented in their society. During the Civil War the ﬁrst national draft led to riots. Thirty-eight ofﬁcers in charge of conscription were assassinated and 60 others wounded.16 The

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motives that drove protest and evasion in America were similar to those in other countries: a general distrust of militarism by labor unions and paciﬁst religious groups, a fear of centralized government power, concerns over individual rights, and dislike of any regimentation. The appearance of conscription was guaranteed to generate resistance, no matter what the country.17 The government had little trouble answering charges that the draft violated the Constitution. In 1918 the Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of the draft. In 1941 the courts afﬁrmed the legality of conscription even in the absence of a declaration of war. The Third Circuit Court of Appeals held that the nation was “not precluded from preparing for battle . . . until such time as our preparations would be too late.” The court upheld the conviction of objectors for failure to register.18 Conscription in the United States also had certain unique characteristics that bore on the rate of cooperation and resistance.19 In America local civilians operated the draft, not the army as in France nor a strong centralized agency as in Britain. To a unique degree, American conscription relied upon community or peer pressure to enforce the law. This had advantages and disadvantages. The support or absence of a public consensus on a war or foreign policy was directly conveyed to the draft operation. A supporting consensus, however, remained consistently strong in the United States until the latter stages of the Vietnam conﬂict in the 1960s. Another unique feature of the American system that affected the degree of protest was its selective character. Although both the British and French systems eventually developed selective characteristics, such principles were built into the American system from the beginning. Because the draft had an elaborate mechanism of classiﬁcations leading to deferment, and appeals over classiﬁcations, the opportunities for legal draft evasion were manifold. Evaders could avoid service but remain within the letter of the law. Yet attempts to manipulate the system for such purposes appear rare until the 1960s. Evaders worked within the system; resisters fought against the system and refused to cooperate. Sometimes an evader turned into a resister, but the reverse was unlikely. A person who refused or failed to register was labeled a resister. In World War I the number of such men reached over 350,000, but many of these were merely evaders for technical reasons, such as no forwarding address and confusion over obligation. And 24 million men did register without trouble. Although the Provost Marshall General charged 337,440 men with “desertion” in 1919, only about 50 percent were ever prosecuted and far fewer convicted.20 In World War II the rate of cooperation with the draft improved considerably. While 171,000 draft evasion cases were prosecuted after the ﬁrst war, after World War II there were 348,217 cases. But the total number of inductees in the second war was triple those in the ﬁrst war, which meant a proportionate decline in noncooperation.21 From 1940

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to June 1947 about 11,879 men went to prison for violating the draft law. Again, the vast majority of the reported cases were technical or administrative. Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) spot check in urban centers disclosed 6,812 suspects, but all registered without further action.22 Even attempts at legal evasion declined. In World War II there were only 4 conscientious objectors for every 10,000 classiﬁed registrants.23 The trend line of appeals of initial classiﬁcation revealed a similar pattern of increased cooperation. One study created a formula based on the number of voluntary appeals during a time period divided by the number of 1-A (immediately available) classiﬁcations during the period, multiplied by 1,000 to achieve an “index of evasiveness.” Before Pearl Harbor the index was 26 appeals per 1,000 registrants. At the end of the war there were only 3 per 1,000.24 Public opinion polls showed the same trend of lessening of opposition to conscription.25 Following World War II President Harry Truman appointed an Amnesty Review Board to investigate cases of draft resistance. The board, under the chairmanship of Judge Owen Roberts, looked at 15,805 cases of draft violation. The cases were grouped into violations with willful intent to evade service and those based on religious convictions. The largest single group consisted of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Half of the cases considered concerned men with prior criminal records. There were only 1,200 men still in prison when the board began its work. Releases had occurred by men clearing their records and receiving presidential pardons after serving honorably in the armed forces. In January 1946 only 626 remained in prison. Altogether the board recommended 3,041 for pardon.26 At the end of World War II some 79 percent of those polled felt their local draft board had done a very fair job.27 The consensus had held up the system. By 1950 a new picture began to emerge. Like the French colonial wars, the Korean War and the Vietnam conﬂict were limited in objective and not resolvable along the clear lines of World War II.28 Signs of a strained consensus appeared in disapproval ratings for the president. Roosevelt’s disapproval rating in the polls dropped from 23 percent before Pearl Harbor to just 19 percent at the end of the war. But Truman experienced an increase in disapproval, from 44 percent before the North Korean invasion to 55 percent when he stepped down. President Johnson’s disapproval rating was only 8 percent in mid-1965 but had climbed to 48 percent by January of 1969.29 Similarly, antiwar sentiment among college students, which declined during World War II, increased with each year of limited wars.30 Disapproval of presidential policy did not automatically mean disapproval or resistance to the draft. The Selective Service System continued to operate effectively. From 1948 to July 1950 only 204 cases of delinquency were ﬁled by U.S. attorneys, although some 10,750,000 were registered. With the Korean War and increased calls after June 1950, cases of delin-

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quency rose. By mid-1952 some 20,072 cases were active. Most of these were men careless about declaring changes of address or late in reporting. Actual charges of draft violation totaled 4,490 in 1950, 3,680 in 1951, 5,610 in 1952, and 6,300 in 1953. The respective numbers convicted were 1,750, 1,560, 3,130, and 3,450. The induction totals for these same years were 220,000, 552,000, 438,000 and 472,000.31 During World War II there was 1 conviction for draft violation for every 2,220 men successfully inducted. During the Korean War the ﬁgure was 1 to every 10,399 inducted. While there were some 250,960 delinquents reported from June 1948 through March 1961, most of these were technical. Only about 2,500 convictions resulted under the law out of a total of 24,143,938 registered with SS by the end of March 1961. By the early 1960s draft protests had the character of a minor nuisance in the execution of the draft.32 This all changed in 1965 when President Johnson decided to use the draft to ﬁght the war in Vietnam. The 1960s was a decade of disillusionment, with the draft merely one institution among many coming in for criticism. Young rebels rejected the concentration of power in modern institutions. Radicalized by the Civil Rights movement, some youth began to attack the Cold War diplomacy of containment and especially the colonial war in Vietnam. Initially, the protests were largely symbolic. In May 1964 a dozen men burned their draft cards in New York City. As Johnson expanded the commitment to Vietnam, the demonstrations grew. By fall of 1967, burnings occurred in several big cities, and a thousand cards were dumped at the Justice Department. A mass antiwar protest at the Pentagon on 21 October 1967 featured draft protest and card burnings, but over 35 million Americans were registered without protest.33 At the University of Michigan in the fall of 1965, protesters used a sit-in to disrupt a local board. Soon, occupying buildings became the modus operandi of protesters. On a few occasions, draft records were destroyed by ﬁrebombs.34 The government found it difﬁcult to defuse the protest. Other than ending the draft, which was not possible if the Vietnam ﬁght was to be continued, the Johnson administration had few options. Unlike earlier antidraft movements, this protest came not from the lower working classes but from the upper-middle-class, college student population.35 Paciﬁsm inspired some. The War Resisters League and the Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors were active.36 The rate of applications for conscientious objector status did grow rapidly.37 During the 1960s this means of avoiding service became increasingly popular. In 1965 the Supreme Court broadened the deﬁnition of eligibility for such status to include belief that “occupies a place in the life of its possessor parallel to that ﬁlled by the orthodox belief in God.” The number of COs grew from 17,900 in 1964 to 61,000 in 1971.38 The Civil Rights movement inspired others. Martin Luther King and the Black Student Nonviolence Coordinating Committee sympathized with draft resisters.39

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Yet the main impetus for the antidraft and antiwar protest came from the general counterculture movement of the 1960s. The radical leaders rejected the technological bureaucracy of the modern state and sought an end to the exploitation of the Third World by industrial powers. These cultural radicals displayed a high sense of moral sensitivity to the individual rights and to the environment, both at risk in the Vietnam War.40 Protesting the draft was a tactical step to larger ends. Dagmar Wilson of the Women Strike for Peace was mainly upset with the “impact of the draft on the fabric of society.” Other student radicals argued not just against the draft but also against the foreign policy of containment. Interviews with resisters found that 88 percent justiﬁed their action primarily by reference to the war in Vietnam and only secondarily by the unfairness of the draft system.41 The Students for a Democratic Society viewed draft resistance “as a handle with which to organize and educate other students about the nature of capitalism and imperialism.”42 Self-preservation had little to do with the protest. The majority of resisters in the New England movement were not even in class 1-A. One tenth of the resisters in Boston were divinity students who had an exemption. It was war in Vietnam, not war itself, that provoked protests. Dr. Benjamin Spock, a leading protester, proclaimed that he was “not a paciﬁst.”43 Breaking the law by resisting the draft, however, never appealed to the majority of American youth. It was much easier simply to evade service by using one of the many loopholes. There was always the option of migration to Canada. Between 60,000 and 100,000 took this route, but it required means and planning.44 An easier method of evasion was to remain a student in good standing. Undergraduate deferments remained in place until 1970.45 Or one could marry and quickly become a father. The draft system’s own appeal apparatus offered opportunities for evasion. Months could be gained by using up all draft appeals and then moving to civil courts. As time passed the war might end, or marriage or some other escape might occur. At the end of the Korean War there were 47 appeals per 1,000 compared to 3 per 1,000 at the end of World War II. By mid-1969 there were 98 appeals per 1,000 1-A registrants, twice the Korean rate.46 Ending the war would have ended the protest, even if the draft continued. But when Richard Nixon became president, he reversed the order by ending ﬁrst the draft, then the war. Nixon reasoned that stopping inductions would defuse the protest and gain him both political credit and more time to negotiate an end to the war. He was right. In early 1969 there were 5,915 delinquency cases pending in just one state. San Francisco had over 100 attorneys advising evaders on how to beat their call. The morale of the system had reached a new low.47 Yet despite this problem and the turmoil of resistance and evasion, the draft system was still working rather well when Nixon made his decision. Some 250,000 men had not registered, but over half of these were not

256

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protest related. As in the past, most of the men convicted for draft violations were Jehovah’s Witnesses, Muslims, or others not active in the antiwar movement of the 1960s. In 1971 the FBI had a mere 3,000 warrants outstanding for draft violators. In the vast regions of the country, draft resistance hardly existed. From 1965 to 1973 there were 1,728,254 inductions through Selective Service. This was more than enough to meet the needs of the armed forces.48 The American military forces in Vietnam never experienced a shortfall of men because of the failure of Selective Service to deliver. The president decided to end the draft not because it was failing but because its political cost had become too high. His Vietnamization program meant a constant reduction in draft calls. He also instituted a lottery system to create an image of fairness for those selected. The president had also sponsored a number of covert operations that helped to discredit radical movements. Finally, in 1973, the Department of Defense announced it had made its last draft call. A new all-volunteer system now came into being.49 FRANCE For a variety of reasons France took longer to move from conscription to an all-volunteer force, not taking such a step until 1997. Theoretically, the individual French citizen had a different relationship with the state and with conscription than his counterpart in Britain and the United States. In France, military service was bound up with the very creation of the modern French state. The notion of a social contract, popular in Britain and America, by which the state had limited rights over the individual, who abrogated such rights only in exceptional circumstances, did not exist in France. The “Marseillaise” announced “To arms,” and in theory, French citizens were supposed to welcome the cry.50 The theory, however, began to fail in the 20th century. France began to experience organized protests over conscription. The roots of the anticonscription movement shared some common traits with the other industrialized democracies. Although paciﬁst religions had less strength in France than in Britain and the United States, the cost of World War I provided a powerful stimulant to such attitudes, especially among French intellectuals. A thousand Frenchmen a day lost their lives in this conﬂict. With 1.4 million dead, another 1 million made permanent invalids, and another 3.2 million wounded, it was no surprise when paciﬁsm began to grow in the 1920s and 1930s.51 Although the French state refused to recognize personal religious scruples or any conscientious objection as an excuse for not serving, such sentiments still gained ground.52 By 1921 over 5,000 young men had been deﬁned by the military authorities as insoumis, or rebels because of failure to report. The French draft code provided for draconian punishment for such of-

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fenses, but they still occurred.53 In 1935, after reinstitution of conscription in Germany, the French military called for a return to a two-year term of compulsory service. This idea met objections from the educated classes, young student teachers, and some trade union leaders.54 With the invasion of France and World War II, opposition to service was mooted. The rapid collapse of the French army, however, only conﬁrmed those with antimilitarist views. After the war it took several years before the French military could again regularize registration for the draft. The registration classes of 1946 through 1948 were ﬁlled with absentees, who had to be forcefully reminded of their obligations under the draft law of 1928.55 The motives for such resistance varied at different times. A vague antimilitarism again became a permanent feature of the French political scene. It expressed itself in debates over money for the army, over adopting a nuclear strategy of defense, and over use of the army in colonial wars.56 When France began the agonizing process of restoring its presence in Indo-China and Algeria, the military found itself in an increasingly unpopular position.57 Draftees were not sent to Indo-China, but the contingent did serve in the protracted ﬁghting in Algeria. Here their presence helped to politicize the affair, with intellectuals and youth at home being sensitized to the gruesomeness and hopelessness of the conﬂict. Draftee behavior during the attempted military rebellion served to avoid a coup.58 Once France had extricated itself from these colonial conﬂicts, antidraft sentiment began to base itself on the ideas of a large army and universal service. Complaints emerged repeatedly during the 1960s and 1970s over the character of compulsory service. To many youth, military service was a total waste of time, a divergence from professional development, and a gigantic bore. The French army was too large for its diminished role. Demographic trends had shifted with higher birthrates after World War II. This meant that more and more men had to be deferred or given nonmilitary assignments. It appeared as though conscription had become a social device to keep youth off the unemployment rolls. The inequity of some men being assigned to combat units while others had cushy jobs in Paris only fueled more discontent. By 1972 over 133,000 eligible men escaped all military service for a variety of reasons.59 The discontent emerged forcefully in 1973–1974. In 1973 students protested in the streets against the reforms introduced by Minister Michel Debre´, which reduced educational deferments.60 Then in 1974, 100 draftee-inductees signed a petition complaining about the system and sent the document to Valery Giscard d’Estaing and Franc¸ois Mitterrand, the two candidates in the presidential race. This “appel des cents” soon received thousands of additional signatures after being circulated. Draftees in several French towns, Draguignan and Karlsruhe in particular, marched in the streets.61 The motives behind this movement could not be called purely anticon-

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scription. Indeed, only a few of the protesters expressed such a view. Most of the young men were moved by the age-old complaints of grunts in any army. They disliked the severe discipline, the brutal behavior of NCOs, and the inability to express their views. Some denounced the authoritarian philosophy their instructors tried to proselytize. They wanted better living conditions in the barracks and higher pay. “The NCOs are hard and we return from maneuvers very tired,” wrote one signer. Although a few local socialist, labor, and communist groups supported the petitioners, most national leaders remained silent.62 What stood out as most remarkable about the demonstration was its tameness. In contrast with the strident antimilitarism of radicals in the past, and even rebellions in the ranks during World War I, this latest affair had the air of students griping about their grades. They were at pains to stress their willingness to do their service and their lack of antimilitarism. They were not, they insisted, conscientious objectors. It was perhaps this spirit that explained the generally moderate response by military authorities. Several petitioners were called into interviews, but many high ofﬁcers considered the affair much ado about nothing.63 Yet the affair did have some consequences. The army, despite its air of indifference, became aware that the conscription system could no longer just move along in its old ruts with appeals to tradition. Public sympathy toward the petitioners also made the military aware of the fragility of their manpower recruitment device. Of course, conscription had always been resented by those at risk. In the 19th century men indulged in selfmutilation to avoid service. But the system was now operating during peacetime and capturing a well-educated youth who resented the old barracks system and especially the absence of political rights. Over the next few years the army moved to reform the system. Rules of general discipline were liberalized; more political expression was permitted.64 Despite such protest the conscript system itself continued to work well. In the spring of 1973, with students protesting Debre´’s reforms, the services recorded a 100 percent response to the call for draft induction.65 Such a result was due to many factors, but one obvious reason was the severe system of penalties imposed by French law on draft evaders. The “Code du Service National,” which incorporated the old and new rules for conscription after World War II, deﬁned a young man who did not report after his call as “in rebellion.” If he failed to report to his unit after his registration, he was a deserter. In time of peace he could claim a delay in reporting of up to 15 days, but in time of war he had only 2 days. The law did recognize a distinction between true rebels, ve´ritables insoumis, and insoumis administratifs, with punishment adjusted accordingly.66 The system of punishment was administered by a code of military justice. Hearings were in secret before military ofﬁcers with no appeal, except to the Conseil d’e´tat. Anyone who did not fulﬁll his service obligation lost all

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public rights.67 Men found guilty of rebellion were liable to 1 to 3 years in jail and a ﬁne up to Fr100,000. And those who aided and abetted draft evasion also faced stiff penalties, up to 5 years in jail and a ﬁne. Similar punishments were incurred for any false statements in registration. Time spent in jail did not count toward the service obligation, which remained to be completed after release. Most draconian, any public ofﬁcial or employer of the state who participated in any demonstration or was himself a delinquent was subject to a double punishment and banned from all public employment for anywhere from 5 to 10 years.68 Such a legal system alone cannot explain why the French draftee offered so much less resistance to the system than the young American male. Mainly, of course, the American draftee faced imminent combat in Vietnam. The French draftee by the 1970s was exposed to no such danger, assuming he even received a military assignment. Increasingly, the French system of national service offered nonlethal, even economically advantageous positions.69 When Frenchmen in 1974 and 1975 were asked about their feelings toward a conscript army or an all-volunteer army, the results were fairly even. Some 44 percent chose national service, and 43 percent preferred a professional army. The demonstrations and riots of the late 1960s and early 1970s seemed to have little effect on this opinion.70 As with the United States and Britain, in France there were proportionately few actual cases of rebellion or evasion. From September 1966 to January 1967, only 233 soldiers were so deﬁned. In the period February to April 1971, only 47 were reported, and of this total, some 33 cases were administrative, not true evasion. From 1969 to 1978 the number of men claiming the new CO status grew from 150 to 1,208. During the same period the number of men accused of evasion climbed from 96 to 3,969. But after a peak in 1978 the number declined to 2,504 in 1979 and 1,877 in 1980. In the ensuing period, the trend was again up, with some 6,465 declared rebellious in 1991, but some 4,673 of these were cleared as administrative problems.71 When in 1992 France began to revise and phase out its entire system, it was not because of resistance or protest. The decision to end the system came from the top. President Jacques Chirac preferred a small, less expensive, all-professional force. By 1998 the state required only one day of national indoctrination from its youth.

NOTES 1. Margaret Levi, “The Institution of Conscription,” Social Science History 20 (Spring 1996): 154. 2. L. V. Scott, Conscription and the Attlee Governments: The Politics and Policy of National Service 1945–1951 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), p. 5. 3. First quote, clipping from The Friend, 31 March 1939, B. H. Liddell-Hart

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Papers, States House, Medmenham, Marlow, Bucks., King’s College, London (hereafter cited as LHP), 15/3/55; second quote, clip from The Listener, 27 April 1939, ibid. 4. See Chapter 6. 5. Peter Dennis, Decision by Default: Peacetime Conscription and British Defence 1919–39 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1972), p. 56. 6. Reprint, J. H. Huizinga, “Democracy and Compulsory Service,” 31 March 1939, in LHP, 15/3/55. 7. Martin Edmonds, Armed Services and Society (Leicester: University Press, 1988), p. 143; Memo by National Peace Council, 29 April 1939, LHP, 15/3/55; clip of Daily Express, 5 May 1939, LHP, 15/3/52; Scott, Conscription, p. 272. 8. Scott, Conscription, p. 5. 9. Edmonds, Armed Services, p. 142. 10. Nat. Service Co-ordinating Committee, mins. of 34th meet., 12 November 1942, Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter cited as PRO), Lab6/ 241. 11. H.M.D. Parker, Manpower: A Study of War-Time Policy and Administration (London: HMSO, 1957), pp. 465–467. 12. Alan Bullock, The Life and Times of Ernest Bevin: Vol. 2: Minister of Labour, 1940–1945 (London: Heinemann, 1967), p. 267. 13. National Service (Armed Forces) Act, 1939, 2 & 3 Geo. 6, chap. 81, p. 115; National Service Act, 1948, 11 & 12 Geo. 6, chap. 64, p. 7. In 1949 the ﬁne was £25 and the term up to two years. See Note on amendment passed by Lords, 1 January 1949, PRO/Lab6/298. 14. MLNS analysis of action on reports of failure to regist. or submit to medical, p. 1, PRO/Lab6/692. 15. Ibid. From 1 January 1949 to 16 November 1960, some 2,388 failed to register and 4,806 failed to take exam. 16. Gary L. Wamsley, Selective Service and a Changing America: A Study of Organizational-Environmental Relationships (Columbus, Ohio: Merrill, 1969), p. 28. 17. Michael Useem, Conscription, Protest, and Social Conﬂict: The Life and Death of a Draft Resistance Movement (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1973), pp. 8, 10–14. See also Stephen M. Kohn, Jailed for Peace: The History of American Draft Law Violators, 1658–1985 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1986); Staughton Lynd & Michael Ferber, The Resistance (Boston: Beacon, 1971); Zelle A. Larson, “An Unbroken Witness: Conscientious Objection to War, 1948–1953” (Ph.D. diss., University of Hawaii, 1975), p. 9. 18. New York Times: 3 June 1941, p. 15; 11 November 1941, p. 46; Lewis B. Hershey, Legal Aspects of Selective Service (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1969), pp. 6– 7. 19. See Chapter 6. 20. John W. Chambers II, To Raise an Army: The Draft Comes to Modern America (New York: Free Press, 1987), pp. 210–215; Mark Sullivan, “Submission to Autocracy,” in Keith L. Nelson, ed., The Impact of War on American Life: The Twentieth-Century Experience (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1971), p. 36; Victory Hicken, The American Fighting Man (New York: Macmillan, 1969),

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p. 37; Studies Prepared for the President’s Commission on an All-Volunteer Armed Force (T. Gates) (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1970), 2:1–22. 21. Lawrence S. Wittner, Rebels against War: The American Peace Movement, 1941–1960 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1969), p. 42n. 22. Richard H. Kohn, “The Social History of the American Soldier: A Review and Prospectus for Research,” American Historical Review 86 (June 1981): 558; Donald D. Stewart, “Local Board: A Study of the Place of Volunteer Participation in a Bureacratic Organization” (Ph.D. dissertion, Columbia University, 1950), p. 203; Walker S. Edwards, “The Administraton of Selective Service in the United States” (Master’s thesis, Stanford University, 1948), p. 57; M. J. Pescor, “A Study of Selective Service Law Violators,” American Journal of Psychiatry 105 (March 1949): 643. 23. In the Korean War there were 13 per 10,000 at the beginning and 5 per 10,000 at the end. During Vietnam, through 1969, there were about 8 per 10,000. See Robert B. Smith, “Disaffection, Delegitimation and Consequences: Aggregate Trends for World War II, Korea and Vietnam,” in Charles C. Moskos, Jr., ed., Public Opinion and the Military Establishment (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1971), pp. 233, 235. 24. In contrast, the rate increased during Korea from 1 per 1,000 in ﬁscal year 1950 to 47 per 1,000 at the end of the war. Vietnam showed even more trend to evasiveness, from 4 per 1,000 in 1965 to 102 by mid-1969. See ibid., p. 229. 25. Ibid., p. 221. 26. Report of President’s Amnesty Board, n.d., Box 844, OF 245, Harry S. Truman Papers, Truman Library, Independence, Mo. (hereafter cited as HST). 27. Smith, “Disaffection,” p. 235. This ﬁgure dropped to 60 percent for Korea in 1953 and 43 percent for Vietnam in June 1966. 28. James Burk, “Debating the Draft in America,” Armed Forces and Society 15 (Spring 1989): 431–433. 29. In presidential popularity, FDR’s jumped from 72 percent to 84 percent; Truman’s from 37 percent to 46 percent; Johnson’s from 76 to 88. But only FDR’s lasted. See Smith, “Disaffection,” p. 225. 30. Patti Peterson, “Student Organizations and the Antiwar Movement in America, 1900–1960,” American Studies 13 (Spring 1972): 142. 31. Selective Service Newsletter (hereafter cited as SS), January 1952, p. 2; ibid., June 1952, p. 3; Selective Service System, Selective Service under 1948 Act Extended (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), pp. 69, 86; Selective Service System, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1952 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1953), p. 37; Selective Service System, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1953 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1954), p. 27; Selective Service System, Annual Report of the Director of Selective Service, 1954 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1955), p. 30; U.S. Department of Commerce, Historical Statistics of the United States, 2 pts. (Washington, D.C.: Department of Commerce, 1975), II: 1143–1144. 32. SS, December 1969, p. 3; Selective Service, Research and Statistics Digest, 30 April 1961, Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Pa. (hereafter cited as LBH); Burk, “Debating,” p. 433. 33. Useem, Conscription, pp. 3–4, 54, 61–63; New York Times, 30 December 1967, p. 2; Library of Congress, Congressional Research Services, United States Draft Policy (Washington, D.C.: Library of Congress, July 1968), p. 13.

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34. Time, 20 May 1966, p. 72; Herbert M. Engel, D. F. Engel, & D. Engel, “Belling the Berrigans,” The Catholic World 213 (August 1971): 228; Charles E. Rice, “Conscientious Objection: A Conservative View,” Modern Age 13 (Winter 1968–1969): 67; Kohn, Jailed for Peace, p. 82; Steve Hamilton to President, telegram, 9 October 1967, WHCF, gen nd 9–4, ct. 151, Lyndon Johnson Papers, Lyndon B. Johnson Library, Austin, Tex. (hereafter cited as LBJ); Useem, Conscription, p. 267; Joseph E. Mulligan, “Reform or Resistance,” The Catholic World 212 (December 1970): 131; Gaetano Marino, “Protest and Procurement,” The Marine Corps Gazette 53 (1969): 42. 35. See Burk, “Debating,” pp. 431–448; Charles DeBenedetti, “On the Signiﬁcance of the Citizen Peace Activism: America, 1961–1975,” Peace and Change 9 (Summer 1983): 11. 36. DeBenedetti, “Signiﬁcance,” pp. 6, 9; Peterson, “Student Organizations,” p. 142; Kohn, Jailed for Peace, p. 75. See Charles DeBenedetti, An American Ordeal: The Antiwar Movement of the Vietnam Era (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1990), for a comprehensive treatment. 37. See George Q. Flynn, “Selective Service and the Conscientious Objector,” in Michael Noone, ed., Selective Conscientious Objection (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1989), pp. 39–55. 38. Kohn, Jailed for Peace, p. 126; Lawrence M. Baskir & William A. Strauss, Chance and Circumstance: The Draft, the War and the Vietnam Generaton (New York: Knopf, 1978), p. 40; quote in Walter S. Griggs, Jr., “The Selective Conscientious Objector: A Vietnam Legacy,” Journal of Church and State 21 (January 1979): 100; David S. Surrey, Choice of Conscience: Vietnam Era Military and Draft Resisters in Canada (New York: Praeger, 1982), p. 39. Useem, Conscription, p. 57, writes that resisters made “little headway” in obtaining such status. 39. Useem, Conscription, pp. 49–51, 55–56; Edward Hoagland, “The Draft Card Gesture,” Commentary 45 (1 February 1968): 77–79. 40. Irwin Unger, The Movement: A History of the New Left (New York: Harper & Row, 1974), pp. 91–92; Peterson, “Student Organizations,” pp. 131, 144; Useem, Conscription, pp. 6, 16; Allen J. Matusow, The Unraveling of America: A History of Liberalism in the 1960s (New York: Harper & Row, 1984), p. 324; DeBenedetti, “Signiﬁcance,” pp. 11, 13; Robert P. Friedman & Charles Leistner, Compulsory Service Systems (Columbia, Mo.: Artcraft Press, 1968), p. 463; John Lovell, “Military Service, Nationalism and the Global Community,” in Michael L. Martin & E. S. McCrate, eds., The Military, Militarism, and the Polity: Essays in Honor of Morris Janowitz (New York: Free Press, 1984), p. 69. 41. Joe P. Dunn, “UMT: A Historical Perspective,” Military Review 61 (January 1981): 18; Wilson quoted in Friedman and Leistner, Compulsory, p. 466; second quote in Useem, Conscription, p. 36, also p. 183; Harriet E. Gross, “Micro and Macro Level Implications for a Sociology of Virtue: The Case of Draft Protesters to the Vietnam War,” Sociological Quarterly 18 (Summer 1977): 328. 42. Jerome Johnston & Jerald G. Bachman, Young Men Look at Military Service: A Preliminary Report (Ann Arbor, Mich.: Institute for Social Research, 1970), p. 5; Draft Riots on College Campuses, School and Society (13 November 1965): 420; Useem, Conscription, pp. 53, 165–166, 173–174; quote in Friedman & Leistner, Compulsory, p. 464. 43. Quote from Gross, “Micro,” p. 321; Useem, Conscription, p. 177; Allan

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Brotsky, “Trial of a Conscientious Objector,” in Ann F. Ginger, ed., The Relevant Lawyers (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1972), p. 102; Spock quote in Rice, “Conscientious Objection,” p. 69, and see also p. 71; DeBenedetti, “Signiﬁcance,” p. 11. 44. Saul V. Levine, “Draft Dodgers: Coping with Stress, Adapting to Exile,” American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 42 (April 1972): 432; Elinor Langer, “Vietnam: Growing War and Campus Protests Threaten Student Deferments,” Science (17 December. 1965), pp. 1567–1569. 45. Useem, Conscription, p. 64; James Fallows, “What Did You Do in the Class War, Daddy?” Washington Monthly 7 (October 1975): 7, 11. Only two members of Fallows’ Harvard class were drafted. 46. Smith, “Disaffection,” pp. 229, 233, 235. 47. The Atlanta Constitution, 20 June 1968; S. Bruce Scidmore to President, 24 June 1968, WHCF, fg 282, ct. 304, LBJ; Report of Subcommittee, State Dirs. Conf., 9 May 1969, LBH. 48. Nancy Zaroulis & G. Sullivan, Who Spoke Up? American Protest against the War in Vietnam, 1963–1975 (New York: Doubleday, 1984), p. 311; Lawrence M. Baskir & William A. Strauss, Reconciliation after Vietnam (Notre Dame, Ind.: Notre Dame University Press, 1977), pp. viii, 15; John Dean to Jon Huntsman, 26 March 1971, Dean ﬁle, Box 26, W.H.S.F., Richard M. Nixon Presidential Project, Alexandria, Va. (hereafter cited as RMN). For a critique of the draft and prosecution, see Baskir & Strauss, Chance. Friendlier are George E. Reedy, Who Will Do Our Fighting for Us? (New York: World Publishing Co., 1969), p. 115, and Richard M. Nixon, No More Vietnams (New York: Arbor House, 1985). See also Burk, “Debating,” p. 443, and Gross, “Micro,” p. 323; Anderson for Ehrlichman, 13 July 1970, Anderson ﬁle, Box 37, WHCF, RMN; Curtis W. Tarr, By the Numbers: The Reform of the Selective Service System, 1970–1972 (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University Press, 1981), p. 51; Robert G. Dixon to John Dean, 25 September 1970, WHSF, Dean ﬁle, Box 16, RMN; Jack C. Lane, “Ideology and the American Military Experience,” in Garry D. Ryan & T. K. Nenninger, eds., Soldiers and Civilians: The U.S. Army and the Amerian People (Washington, D.C.: National Archives, 1987), p. 15. For induction statistics see George Q. Flynn, ed., “History of Selective Service,” 1998, mss. at Selective Service Headquarters, Arlington, Va. 49. Melvin Small, Johnson, Nixon, and the Doves (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1988), p. 219; New York Times, 20 September 1969, p. 1; ibid., 30 November 1969, p. 1; Wall Street Journal, 28 January 1971; Saul V. Levine, “Draft Dodgers: Coping with Stress, Adapting to Exile,” American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 42 (April 1972): 438; DeBenedetti, American Ordeal, p. 397; Joan M. Jensen, “The Army and Domestic Surveillance,” in Ryan & Nenninger, Soldiers and Civilians, p. 172. 50. Maurice Faivre, Les Nations arme´es de la guerre des peuples a` la guerre des e´toiles (Paris: FEDN, 1988), pp. 124n, 125n. 51. Eugen J. Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930’s (New York: Norton, 1994), p. 11; Anthony Adamthwaite, France and the Coming of the Second World War, 1936–1939 (London: Frank Cass, 1977), p. 8. 52. See Chapter 10. 53. Min. de la Guerre: Compte rendu sur Le Recrutement de l’arme´e, pendant 1921, Military Archives, Chaˆteau Vincennes (hereafter cited as MACV) 9N169,

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doss. 9; Min of Guerre to CGs, re enrollment of 1st demi-cont. 1926, 22 February 1926, MACV, 7n2329, doss. 2. 54. Weber, Hollow, p. 23. 55. Sec. d’e´tat de Mil. Guerre to Prefets, 24 May 1948, MACV, SCdR, 24t1EMAT; Min. of War instruction relative to call of 3rd cnt. of class 1946, MACV, SCdR, 24t1EMAT. 56. Faivre, Les Nations, p. 177; Henry Dutailly, Les proble`mes de l’arme´e de terre franc¸aise (1935–1939) (Paris: SHAT, 1980), p. 273; Michel L. Martin, Warriors to Managers: The French Military Establishment since 1945 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981), p. 160. 57. See Chapter 5. 58. Faivre, Les Nations, p. 177; George A. Kelly, Lost Soldiers: The French Army and Empire in Crisis, 1947–1962 (Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press, 1965), p. 299. 59. Elliot Feldman, “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France,” 3 vols. (Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972), III: 865; G. Bonnardot, “De la Conscription a l’arme´e de me´tier,” De´fense nationale (May 1992): 89; “Les jeunes sont-ils contre l’arme´e?” P.M., 31 March 1973, pp. 39–40; Le Monde Hebdomadaire, 11 July 1974, p. 19; ibid., 25 April 1973, p. 1; Maurice Faivre, “Service militaire, effectifs et programmation,” De´fense nationale (May 1989): p. 171; “Comment s’en tirer au mieux avec le service militaire,” P.M., 14 April 1973, p. 4. 60. See Chapter 7. 61. Martin, Warrior, p. 176n120; Le Monde Hebdomadaire, 11 July 1974, p. 8. 62. Le Monde Hebdomadaire, 11 July 1974, p. 8; Martin, Warriors, pp. 160– 161. 63. Le Monde Hebdomadaire, 11 July 1974, p. 8; ibid., 3 June 1975, p. 7. 64. Martin, Warrior, pp. 158, 162; Faivre, Les Nations, p. 178; Le Monde Hebdomadaire, 6 March 1975, p. 7. 65. Martin, Warriors, p. 158. 66. La Re´publique Franc¸ais, Journal ofﬁcial, Code du service national (Paris: Journal ofﬁcial, 1989), pp. 40, 89; E´tat-Major de L’Arme´e de Terre, Le Service national (e´dition me´thodique) (Paris: Ministe`re des Arme´es: BO des Arme´es, 1968), 26 February 1968, p. 93; Min. d’E´tat de la De´f. Nationale a Directs Regionaux du Recrut., 9 July 1970, MACV, SCdR, 24t62 EMAT. 67. Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es, E´cole Militaire, Paris (hereafter cited as SIRPA), Actual-6, 2 November 1992, p. 1; JO, Code 1989, pp. 7, 18. 68. JO, Code 1989, pp. 18–19, 38, 40–42. 69. See Chapter 7. 70. Martin, Warriors, p. 163; Jean-Marc Lech, “L’E´volution de l’opinion des franc¸ais sur la de´fense a` travers les sondages de 1972 a` 1976,” De´fense nationale 33(8–9) (1977): 54. 71. See stats. report, 22 February 1967, MACV, SCdR, 24t62 EMAT; Charles Moskos & J. W. Chambers, The New Conscientious Objection (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), pp. 88–89; SIRPA, Actual-6, 2 November 1992.

Selected Bibliography MANUSCRIPT COLLECTIONS Britain: Public Record Ofﬁce, Kew; Liddell-Hart Military Archives, King’s College, London; Churchill Archives Center, Ernest Bevin Papers, Cambridge; Trinity College Library, Cambridge; Records Management Unit, Department of Employment, London; Department of Western Manuscripts, Bodleian Library, Oxford. France: Archive de l’Arme´e de Terre, Chaˆteau de Vincennes, Paris; Bibliothe`que Nationale, Paris; Direction Centrale du Service National, Compie`gne; Service d’Information et de Relations Publiques des Arme´es (SIRPA), Paris; and L’Institut des Hautes E´tudes de De´fense National, Paris. The United States: Lewis B. Hershey Papers, Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Pa., Record Groups 107, 147, 220, 330, National Archives, Washington, D.C.; Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library, Hyde Park, N.Y.; Harry S. Truman Presidential Library, Independence, Mo.; Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library, Austin, Tex.; Richard M. Nixon Presidential Paper Project, Alexandria, Va.; Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, Abilene, Kans.; John F. Kennedy Presidential Library, Boston, Mass.; General George C. Marshall Papers, Marshall Research Library, Lexington, Va. GENERAL STUDIES: BOOKS Edited Ambrose, Stephen, & James A. Barber, eds. The Military and American Society. New York: Free Press, 1972.

266

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Anderson, Martin, ed. The Military Draft: Selected Readings on Conscription. Stanford, Calif.: Hoover Institution, 1982. Azema, Jean-Pierre, & F. Bedarida, eds. La France des annee´s noires. Vols. I–II. Paris: Seuil, 1993. Berger, Jason, ed. The Military Draft. New York: Wilson, 1981. Blatt, Joel, ed. The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments. Providence, R.I.: Berghahn, 1998. Boene, Bernard, & Michel L. Martin, eds. Conscription et arme´e de me´tier. Paris: FEDN, 1991. Carmichael, Leonard, & Leonard C. Mead, eds. The Selection of Military Manpower: A Symposium. Washington, D.C.: NAS and NRC, 1951. David, Dominique, ed. La Politique de de´fense de la France. Paris: FEDN, 1989. Dreisziger, N. F., ed. Mobilization for Total War: The Canadian, American and British Experience, 1914–1918. Waterloo, Ontario: Laurier University, 1981. Karsten, Peter, ed. The Military in America: From the Colonial Era to the Present. New York: Free Press, 1980. Little, Roger W., ed. Selective Service and American Society. New York: Russell Sage, 1969. Little, Roger W., ed. A Survey of Military Institutions. Chicago: Inter-University Seminar on Armed Forces and Society, 1969. Martin, Michael L., & E. S. McCrate, eds. The Military, Militarism, and the Polity: Essays in Honor of Morris Janowitz. New York: Free Press, 1984. Nelson, Keith L., ed. and comp. The Impact of War on American Life: The Twentieth-Century Experience. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1971. O’Sullivan, John, & Alan M. Meckler, eds. The Draft and Its Enemies: A Documentary History. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1974. Pedroncini, Guy, ed. Histoire militaire de la France. 3 vols. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1992. Ryan, Garry D., & T. K. Nenninger, eds. Soldiers and Civilians: The U.S. Army and the American People. Washington, D.C.: National Archives, 1987. Tax, Sol, ed. The Draft: A Handbook of Facts and Alternatives. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967. Willenz, June A., ed. Dialogue on the Draft. Washington, D.C.: American Veterans Committee, 1967.

Authored Ballard, Jack S. The Shock of Peace: Military and Economic Demobilization after World War II. Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1983. Baynes, J.C.M. The Soldier in Modern Society. London: Eyre Methuen, 1972. Bernstein, Richard. Fragile Glory: A Portrait of France and the French. New York: Knopf, 1990. Bezbakh, Pierre. Histoire de la France contemporaine. Paris: Bordas, 1990. Blum, Albert A. Drafted or Deferred: Practices Past and Present. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1967. Bozon, Michel. Les Conscrits: Arts et traditions populaires. Paris: Berger-Levrault, 1981.

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Bradford, Zeb B., Jr., & F. J. Brown. The United States Army in Transition. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1973. Canby, Steven L. Military Manpower Procurement. Lexington, Mass.: D. C. Heath, 1971. Chambers, John W., II. To Raise an Army: The Draft Comes to Modern America. New York: Free Press, 1987. Clarke, Peter. Hope and Glory: Britain, 1900–1990. London: Penguin, 1997. Clifford, J. Garry, & Samuel R. Spenser, Jr. The First Peacetime Draft. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1986. Cress, Lawrence D. Citizens in Arms: The Army and the Militia in American Society to the War of 1812. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1982. Dennis, Peter. Decision by Default: Peacetime Conscription and British Defence 1919–39. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1972. Documentation franc¸aise. De Valmy au Vercors: Histoire de la conscription. Paris: SHAT (D 952), 1982. Flynn, George Q. The Draft, 1940–1973. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1993. Flynn, George Q. The Mess in Washington: Manpower Mobilization in World War II. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1979. Gerhardt, James M. The Draft and Public Policy. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1971. Gildea, Robert. France since 1945. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996. Granatstein, J. L., & J. M. Hitsman. Broken Promises: A History of Conscription in Canada. New York: Oxford University Press, 1977. Grifﬁth, Robert K., Jr. Men Wanted for the U.S. Army: America’s Experience with an All-Volunteer Army between the World Wars. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1982. Hauser, William L. America’s Army in Crisis: A Study in Civil-Military Relations. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973. Hays, Samuel H. Defense Manpower: The Management of Military Conscription. Washington, D.C.: ICAF, 1968. Hicken, Victory. The American Fighting Man. New York: Macmillan, 1969. Horne, Alistair. A Savage War of Peace: Algeria, 1954–1962. New York: Viking, 1977. Hynes, Samuel. The Soldiers’ Tale: Bearing Witness to Modern War. New York: Penguin, 1997. Karsten, Peter. Soldiers and Society: The Effects of Military Service and War on American Life. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1978. Keegan, John. World Armies. London: Macmillan, 1979. Kennett, Lee. G.I.: The American Soldier in World War II. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1987. Klassen, Albert D., Jr. Military Service in American Life since World War II: An Overview. NORC Report 117. Chicago: NORC University of Chicago, 1966. Kreidberg, Marvin A., & M. G. Henry. History of Military Mobilization in the United States Army, 1775–1945. Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1955. Krumeich, Gerd. Rearmament and Domestic Policy in France before World War I. Wiesbaden, West Germany: Steiner, 1980.

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Larkin, Maurice. France since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936– 1986. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988. Leach, Jack F. Conscription in the United States: Historical Background. Rutland, Vt.: C. E. Tuttle, 1952. Lebovics, Herman. True France: The Wars over Cultural Identity, 1900–1945. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1992. Lehning, James R. Peasant and French: Cultural Contact in Rural France during the Nineteenth Century. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Martin, Michel L. Warriors to Managers: The French Military Establishment since 1945. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981. Marwick, Arthur. The Homefront: The British and the Second World War. London: Thames & Hudson, 1976. Marwick, Arthur. War and Social Change in the Twentieth Century: A Comparative Study of Britain, France, Germany, Russia and the United States. London: Macmillan, 1974. May, Ernest R. Strange Victory: Hitler’s Conquest of France. New York: Hill and Wang, 2000. Messmer, Pierre, & Jean-Pierre Chevenement. Le Service militaire. Paris: Balland, 1977. Millett, John D. The Organization and Role of the Army Service Forces. Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1954. Palmer, Robert R., B. I. Wiley, & W. R. Keast. The Procurement and Training of Ground Combat Troops. Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1948. Paoli, Col. L’Arme´e franc¸aise de 1919 a 1939 tome 1 a 4 (1918–1935). Vincennes: SHAT 61242, 1971–1976. Paxton, Robert O. Parades and Politics at Vichy: The French Ofﬁcer Corps under Marshal Petain. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1966. Paxton, Robert O. Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940–1944. New York: Columbia University Press, 1972. Perry, F. W. The Commonwealth Armies: Manpower and Organisation in Two World Wars. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988. Scott, L. V. Conscription and the Attlee Governments: The Politics and Policy of National Service 1945–1951. New York: Oxford University Press, 1993. Shapiro, Andrew O., & John M. Striker. Mastering the Draft: A Comprehensive Guide for Solving Draft Problems. Boston: Little, Brown, 1970. Wall, Irwin M. The United States and the Making of Postwar France, 1945–1954. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Weber, Eugen J. The Hollow Years: France in the 1930’s. New York: Norton, 1994. Weber, Eugen J. Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of Rural France, 1870–1914. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1976. Willis, F. Roy. The French Paradox. Stanford, Calif.: Hoover Institution, 1982. Wright, Gordon. France in Modern Times. Chicago: Rand McNally, 1960. Yarmolinsky, Adam. The Military Establishment: Its Impact on American Society. New York: Harper & Row, 1971.

BIBLIOGRAPHIES Anderson, Martin. Conscription: A Select and Annotated Bibliography. Stanford, Calif.: Hoover Institution, 1976.

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Theory and Strategy Edited Andrews, William G., & Stanley Hoffmann, eds. The Impact of the Fifth Republic on France. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1981. Ashkenazy, Daniella, ed. The Military in the Service of Society and Democracy. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1994. Clarkson, Jesse D., & T. C. Cochran, eds. War as a Social Institution: The Historian’s Perspective. New York: Columbia University Press, 1941. Gillis, John R, ed. Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1994. Howard, Michael, ed. Soldiers and Governments: Nine Studies in Civil-Military Relations. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1959. Howard, Michael, ed. The Theory and Practice of War: Essays Presented to Captain B. H. Liddell-Hart. London: Cassell, 1965. Huntington, Samuel P., ed. Changing Patterns of Military Politics. New York: Free Press, 1962. Sweetman, John, ed. Sword and Mace: Twentieth-Century Civil-Military Relations in Britain. London: Brassey, 1986. Waldinger, Rene´e, Philip Dawson, & Isser Woloch, eds. The French Revolution and the Meaning of Citizenship. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1993. Wolfe, J. N., & John Erickson, eds. Armed Services and Society. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1988.

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Authored Abrahamsson, Bengt. Military Professionalism and Political Power. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1972. Andreski, Stanislav. Military Organization and Society. 2nd ed. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1954. Aron, Jean-Paul, P. Dumont, & E. Ladurie. “Anthropologie du conscrit franc¸ais.” Civilisations et socie´te´s. Paris: La Haye Mouton, 1972. Bartov, Omer. “Martyrs’ Vengeance: Memory, Trauma, and Fear of War in France, 1918–1940.” Historical Reﬂections 22(1) (1996): 47–76. Baylis, John. Ambiguity and Deterrence: British Nuclear Strategy, 1945–1964. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996. Blackwell, Michael. Clinging to Grandeur: British Attitudes and Foreign Policy in the Aftermath of the Second World War. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1994. Bond, Brian. British Military Policy between the Two World Wars. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980. Bourges, Y. “Defense nationale et service militaire.” De´fense nationale (October 1980): 15–24. Campbell, Donald T., and T. H. McCormack. “Military Experience and Attitudes toward Authority.” American Journal of Sociology 62 (March 1957): 482– 490. Carmoy, Guy de. The Foreign Policies of France, 1944–1968. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970. Challener, Richard D. The French Theory of the Nation in Arms, 1866–1939. New York: Columbia University Press, 1955. Clifford-Vaughan, M. “Changing Attitudes to the Army’s Role in French Society.” British Journal of Sociology 15 (December 1964): 338–348. Cohen, Eliot A. Citizens & Soldiers: The Dilemmas of Military Service. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1985. Coreau, Lt. Col. J. “Incorporation et besoins de la mobilisation.” Forces arme´es franc¸aises 14 (September 1973): 14–21. Doughty, Robert A. The Seeds of Disaster: The Development of French Army Doctrine, 1919–1939. Hamden, Conn.: Archon, 1985. Feldman, Elliot. “An Illusion of Power: Military Conscription as a Dilemma of Liberal Democracy in G.B., the U.S., and France.” 3 vols. Ph.D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1972. Fredrickson, George M. “From Exceptionalism to Variability: Recent Developments in Cross-National Comparative History.” Journal of American History 82 (September 1995): 587–604. Girardet, Raoul. La Crise militaire franc¸aise, 1945–1962. Paris: A. Colin, 1964. Girardet, Raoul. Proble`mes contemporains de de´fense nationale. Paris: Dalloz, 1974. Gordon, Philip H. A Certain Idea of France: French Security Policy and the Gaullist Legacy. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993. Handel, Michael. “Numbers Do Count: The Question of Quality versus Quantity.” Journal of Strategic Studies 4 (September 1981): 245–260. Holmes, Richard. Acts of War: The Behavior of Men in Battle. New York: Free Press, 1985.

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Janowitz, Morris. Military Conﬂict: Essays in the Institutional Analysis of War and Peace. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1975. Janowitz, Morris. The Professional Soldier: A Social and Political Portrait. New York: Free Press, 1960. Kier, Elizabeth. Imagining War: French and British Military Doctrine between the Wars. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997. Kiesling, Eugenia C. Arming against Hitler: France and the Limits of Military Planning. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1996. Kohli, Atul, Peter Evans, Peter J. Katzenstein, Adam Przeworski, S. H. Rudolph, James C. Scott, and Theda Skocpol. “The Role of Theory in Comparative Politics: A Symposium.” World Politics 48 (October 1995): 1–49. Levi, Margaret. “The Institution of Conscription.” Social Science History 20 (Spring 1996): 133–167. Luttwak, Edward N. The Pentagon and the Art of War. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1985. Mesnard, Andre. “National Security and France.” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 241 (September 1945): 160–166. Millis, Walter. Arms and Men: A Study of American Military History. New York: Putnam, 1956. Planchais, Jean. Une historie politique de l’arme´e, 1940–1957, De de Gaulle a` de Gaulle. Paris: E´ditions du Seuil, 1967. Posen, Barry R. The Sources of Military Doctrine: France, Britain, and Germany between the World Wars. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1984. Segal, David R. Recruiting for Uncle Sam: Citizenship and Military Manpower Policy. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1989. Stuckey, John D., & J. H. Pistorius. “Mobilization for the Vietnam War: A Political and Military Catastrophe.” Parameters 15 (Spring 1985): 26–38. U.S. President’s Advisory Commission on University Train. A Program for National Security, Report. Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1947. van Doorn, Jacques. The Soldier and Social Change. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1975. Waller, Willard. “A Sociologist Looks at Conscription.” Annals of American Academy of Political and Social Science 241 (September 1945): 95–101. Waltz, Kenneth. Foreign Policy and Democratic Politics: The American and British Experience. Boston: Little, Brown, 1967. Woloch, Isser. “Napoleonic Conscription: State Power and Civil Society.” Past & Present (Great Britain) 111 (1986): 101–129. Young, A. P. “National Security and Great Britain.” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 241 (September 1945): 144–150.

OPERATIONS Arnaud de Foı¨ard, Paul. “Le ‘Serpent de Mer’ du service militaire.” De´fense nationale (January 1990): 31–52. Baudoin, Remy, Michel Stack, & S. Vignemont. Arme´e-nation: Le Rendez-vous manque´. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1975. Brown, John Sloan. Draftee Division: The 88th Infantry Division in World War II. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1987.

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Index Aaron, Raymond, 202 Absenteeism, 165, 257 Absolute deferment, 194–195, 199 Admiralty, British, 197 Advisers, 92, 103, 124, 161 Africa, 68 African Americans, 103, 142. See also Black Americans; Negroes Age, 189, 226; distribution, 67, 144, 220; and liability, 38, 50, 53, 54, 86– 87, 90, 93, 96, 119; and rejection, 141, 151, 153; of reservation, 89, 91, 92, 164 Agnostics, 193 Agrarian economy, 37, 38, 176–177 Agriculture: and COs, 196, 206; deferments for, 133, 166, 168–169; production in, 176–177, 179 Agriculture, Ministry of, 166, 169 Agriculture, Secretary of, 171 “Aide technique,” 97, 99 Air, Undersecretary of State for, 221 Air Councils, British, 197 Air defense, 45–46, 50, 217 Air force, 45, 121, 197; American, 59, 235; French, 153. See also Royal Air Force Alcohol, 143

Alexander, Albert, 66 Algeria, 68, 178; French in, 68, 151, 223, 248, 257 Algerian war, 201–204, 224, 257 Aliens, 6 All-professional army, 1, 20, 225–226, 235, 259 All-volunteer force, 140, 225, 228; adoption of, 68, 120, 175, 179, 220– 221, 237, 256; effectiveness of, 179, 221, 224, 227, 234; as political issue, 133, 235–237 Allen, Leo, 234 Allies, 51, 54–55, 57–58, 68, 248 Allocation board, 89–91 Alternate assignments: for COs, 96, 191–194, 196, 201, 203, 204; and delinquents, 94; forms of, 120, 135; surplus and, 223–225, 227 Ambulance units, 199 American Association of Junior Colleges, 128 American Association of Universities, 130 American Chemical Society, 129 American Federation of Labor, 37, 131 American Management Association, 171

286

INDEX

American Revolution, 10 American system, 86, 89, 97, 99, 145, 153 Amery, Leopold, 14 Amnesty, 16, 201. See also Evaders, draft Amnesty Review Board, 253 Anabaptists, 15, 200 Anderson, Martin, 237 Andre´, General Louis, 20–21 Anglicans, 193 Anglo-French alliance, 216 Anglo-Saxon traditions, 3, 29, 176, 200, 202, 227, 248 Anschluss, 46 Anticolonialism, 224 Anticonscription movement, 77, 202, 256–257 Antimilitarism, 190, 252, 257–258 Antistrike actions, 216 Antiwar: character of, 254, 256; critics, 78, 192, 253; response to, 237; sources of, 192, 253. See also Protest Appeal boards and tribunals, 100, 163, 170, 172, 207; and COs, 191, 195, 197–199, 204, 207; work of, 38, 87, 92, 96, 100, 104, 200 Appeals, 164; and evasion, 77, 89, 252, 255; Korean War, 255; for medical reasons, 89, 146; types of, 92, 103, 124, 163, 172; World War II, 253 Appeasement, 46 “Appel des cents,” 257 Apprentice, 140, 218, 250; deferments of, 131, 151, 168–169, 178 Aptitude tests, 90, 98, 151 Arabia, 66 Armament production, 163 Armed forces, 2, 37, 132; needs of, 113, 132, 151; qualiﬁcations for, 142, 144, 149, 150, 153; and religion, 189–190 Armed forces, American, 145, 228; racism and, 64, 230, 233; strength and manpower of, 57, 60, 101–102, 104, 129–130, 173, 175, 231–232,

234–235, 256; students and, 128, 130; workers and, 171, 174 Armed forces, British, 68, 87, 122, 220; and COs, 196–197; deferments and assignments, 48, 86, 89–91, 126, 167, 169, 221; draft of miners, 166– 167, 169; draftees in, 50, 88, 90, 217–218; mobilization of, 66, 113, 167, 199; strength and manpower, 44, 48–49, 50, 67, 85, 89–90, 162, 164–165, 167–168, 185, 219 Armed forces, French, 55, 67, 94, 149, 179, 224 Armed forces, German, 55 Armed Forces Examination Stations, 101, 105, 146 Armed Forces Qualiﬁcation Test (AFQT), 148 Armistice, 56, 59, 165 Armor units, 98, 216 Army, 59, 90, 104, 128, 150, 235 Army council, British, 67 Army doctrine, French, 51 Army of the United States, 36 Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP), 128–129 Army staff, American, 57 Army War College, 58 Army, American, 38, 57, 101, 103, 174; and draft, 58, 130, 174, 193, 228, 231; needs and expansion of, 36, 59, 103, 110, 173, 232–234; and volunteers, 233–234 Army, British, 13, 47, 48, 50, 88; manpower problems of, 90, 150, 197, 250; mission of, 43, 44, 46–47; performance of, 153, 227, 249; service in, 90, 123, 196; strength and needs, 13, 43, 45, 48–50, 90, 162, 169 Army, French, 18, 56, 144, 151, 178, 257; character of, 19, 27, 56, 68; and politics, 19–20, 27, 68, 222; reform of, 17, 20, 21, 52, 54, 257– 258; role of, 19–20, 51, 118, 221, 257; strength and needs, 16, 21, 28– 29, 52–55, 223, 227, 257; wars of, 27, 29–30, 68, 221, 223, 227

INDEX Army, German, 29, 144 Arsenal of democracy, 58 Art students, 18, 124–126 Artillery, 29, 52, 98, 225 Artisans, French, 178 Asia, 49, 65, 230–231 Asquith, Henry, 216 Assignment: British approach, 89–90; French approach, 96–99, 116, 119, 204–205 Assize of Arms of 1181, 25 Atlantic Pact, 219 Atomic energy, deferment for, 169 Atomic weapons, 129, 231–232, 234, 236 Atrocities, 202 Attlee, Clement, 65–66, 168, 218–219 Austin, Warren, 232 Austria, 46, 56 Auxiliary Gendarmes, 97 Auxiliary services, 19, 48 B17 bombers, 173 Baby boom, 178, 223. See also Demographic trends Baccalaure´at, 116, 118–119, 134–135, 206 Backhouse, Admiral Roger, 47 Baden-Powell, Robert, 216 Baker, Newton, 36–38 Bakers, French, 180 Baldwin government, 216 Balkans, 45 Ballot Act of 1757, 12 Banking, 164, 205 Barbers, 99 Barker, Pat, 157 Baruch, Bernard, 35 Basic training, French, 93 Bastille Day, 48 Battle fatigue, 157 Belgium, 52, 249 Bender, George H., 230 Bergson, Henri, 28 Berlin, 218–219, 221 Bernanos, Georges, 1 Berry, Sidney, 194 Besse, France, 178

287

Beveridge, Sir William, 49, 90, 164– 165 Bevin, Ernest, 49; controls labor, 163– 166, 250; evaluation of, 163, 167, 218; foreign policy of, 66, 218; and mobilization, 66, 163, 167, 218–219 “Bevin boys,” 166–167 Bicknell, R. L., 127 Bill of Rights of 1688, 12 Biological sciences, 130 Birth rate, 118, 257. See also Demographic trends Bishop of Chichester, 14 Bishop of Grenoble, 205 Black Americans, 233, 244. See also African Americans; Negroes Black community, 154, 233 Blanket deferment, 86, 92, 128–129, 166, 173, 175 Blanket reservations, 164 Blitzkrieg, 57, 59 Bloc deferments, 102 Bloc reservation, 91 Blockades, 197 Blum, Leon, 55 Board of Education, 92 Board of Trade, 66 Boeing, 173 Boer War, 13–14, 215 Bombers, German, 165 Bon absent, 94 Bonapartism, 116 Boston, 255 Bounties, 38 Bourbons, 16 Bourgeoisie values, 224 Boy Scout movement, 216 Bregancon decree, 205 Brethren, Church of, 189, 190 British empire, 13, 66 British government, 45, 172 British Medical Association, 86 British society, 124, 194 Brown, Ernest, 162–164 Brown University, 130 Building trade, 168 Bureau de Recrutement, 97–98, 117, 177

288

INDEX

Bureau du Service National, 93, 97 Burke, Edward R., 59 Bush, Vannevar, 129 Business, 21, 29, 35, 104, 171–172, 175, 178, 180, 225 Byrnes, James, 173 Cabinet, British, 169 Cadre, French, 53, 119 Cadre-conscript force, 39, 54, 56–57 Call-ups, 101, 165; in Britain, 26, 36, 87, 89–90, 113, 122–125, 162, 167, 169, 221; in France, 60, 97–99, 116– 117; in the United States, 60, 100, 102, 229, 235 Cambridge, 121, 127 Canada, 255 Capitalism, 176, 255 Cardiovascular defects, 153 Carpenters, 180 Cash bonuses, 231 Casualties, World War I, 6 Casualties, American, in World War I, 39 Casualties, British, 48; in World War I, 39 Casualty rates, and African Americans, 154 Catholic Church, 200, 202 Census, British, 62, 94 Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors, 254 Central registers, 88 Certiﬁcat d’aptitude professionnelle (CAP), 119 Certiﬁcat d’etudes primaires, 116 Chamber of Deputies, 27, 53, 55, 202 Chamberlain, Neville, 49, 216; and COs, 194; on draft, 47, 165, 216– 217; foreign policy of, 46–47, 86, 216–217; and military, 44, 46–48, 217 Chambers, John W., II, 35 Chambers of Commerce, 35 Chambers of Trade and Commerce, 87 Chamonix, 118 Chancellor of the Exchequer, 45–46, 66

Channel ports, 46–47 Channeling, 175, 248 Chantiers de la Jeuˆnesse, 117 Chaplain service, 189 Chartres, 93 Chasseloup-Laubat, Justin, 17 Chauveau, Guy-Michel, 149 Chemical industries, 164 Chemists, British, 120, 122–124, 129 Chevenement, Jean-Pierre, 120, 226 Chief of the Imperial General Staff, 220 Chiefs of staff, 44–45, 47, 93 China, 230 Chips with Everything, 250 Chirac, Jacques: ends draft, 180, 226, 259; on professional force, 227 Christian Democrats, French, 201 Christian paciﬁst groups, 196, 249 Church membership, 190–191 Church of England, 193 Churches, 189, 192 Churchill, Winston, 163; and army, 49– 50; and COs, 194; supports draft, 48, 217, 219–220 Circuit Court of Appeals, 252 Citizen soldier, 5, 10, 20, 27–29, 39, 54, 56–57, 65, 116, 179 Citizens’ Military Training Camps, 12, 35, 99 Civic religion, 200 Civil defense, 48 Civil Rights Commission, 234 Civil rights movement, 229, 254 Civil War, 6, 37, 38, 99, 185, 251 Civilian conservation program, 57 Clark, Grenville, 59, 104, 228, 229 Class bias, 16–17, 20, 38, 102, 221– 222, 225, 245 Class of 1948, French, 94 Class of 1970, French, 94 Classiﬁcations, 89, 101, 103; and appeals, 26, 77, 89, 96; procedure of, 79, 87, 89, 101, 105, 127–128, 195, 235; and resistance, 252 Clausewitz, Karl von, 15, 28 Clergy, 18, 35, 193. See also Religion Clericalism, 19

INDEX Coal miners, 166–167, 169, 196 Code of military justice, 206 Codes, legal, 26, 93, 204 Cold War, 65, 104, 129, 131, 174, 193, 199, 218, 223, 227–228, 232, 234, 248, 251 Colleges, 114–115, 124, 218, 235, 237, 248; and deferments, 105, 125, 127–128, 130–132; and military, 128, 130, 140, 253–254 Colonial armies, 53, 65–66, 224, 247 Colonies, French, 68, 117–118 Colonies, problems of, 3, 10, 53, 65, 78, 125, 167, 223, 247, 257 Colons, 68 Combat, 194, 197, 226, 231, 257; and army needs, 49; and COs, 190 Command structure, French, 54 Commanders: British, 85; French, 177 Commerce, Department of, 174 Committee of Defense of Conscientious Objection, 201 Committee of Public Safety, 200 Committee on Imperial Defense, 43 Common law, 25 Commune, French, 93, 97 Communism/Communists, 2, 65, 68, 201, 234–235, 258 Commutation, 11 Comparative history, 2, 6 Compulsory military service, 25; and Britain, 13–14, 86, 90, 161, 215– 218, 220; and France, 15, 117, 206, 226, 257; and the United States, 36, 57, 128, 228, 251 Computers, 98, 206 Conant, James, 130 Confederacy, 10–11 Conﬁscation of property, 16 Congress, U.S., 129, 133, 153, 230, 233; debates draft laws, 26, 38, 59, 72, 77–78, 103–104, 113, 129, 132, 228, 230–235; on deferments, 38, 129, 132, 148, 207; labor controls and, 104, 171–173; military spending and, 148; war and, 36, 58, 130, 234

289

Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO), 170, 172 Connally, Tom, 172 Conscientious objection: in Britain, 88– 89, 196; classiﬁcaton as, 26, 189– 193, 195, 200–201, 204–205, 254; and draft resistance, 248; in France, 200–201, 256, 258; rate during Korean War, 192; statistics on, 253; in the United States, 38, 244. See also Conscientious objectors Conscientious objectors (COs), 191– 192, 208; application for, 190–192, 194–195, 204–205, 207, 209; in Britain, 193–200; camps, 191, 207; in France, 201–206, 259; in the United States, 190–193, 198, 199– 200, 203, 207, 254, 261 Conscription Act of 1862, 10 Conscription Act of 1917, 190 Conscription law of 1928, 93 Conscription laws, 66, 92, 113, 201 Conscripts, 2, 50–52, 68, 146, 224, 227 Conseil d’e´tat, 258 “Conseil de re´vision,” 95–96, 119, 145–147 “Conseil supe´rieur de la de´fense nationale,” 176 Constitution, American, 4, 252 Constitution, French, 19 Constitution of the First Republic, 1793, 15 Continental Army, 3, 47 Continental Congress, 10 Contingent, French, 18, 23, 53, 97, 178; and COs, 204; size and service, 119, 148, 224–225, 257 Control of Engagement Orders, 199 Convention, French, 200–201 Conviction rate, 99, 102, 192, 254 Cooks, 99, 125, 217 Cooper, Alfred Duff, 46 Corp commander, American, 60 Corporatism, 161 Counterculture movement, 255 County War Agricultural Committee, 166

290

INDEX

Courts, 192, 197, 224, 251–252 Courts martial, 190, 197–198 Cox, Derek, 195 Crimean War, 13 Cripps, Stafford, 66 Cromwell, Oliver, 12 Crowder, Enoch H., 11, 37 Cuba, 221 Cyprus, 66, 67 Czechoslovakia, 46–47, 56, 66, 86, 129, 217, 234 Daladier, Edouard, 56 Dalton, Hugh, 66 Dampier, William, 121 Da´ru´, Pierre, 16 Dawkins, Sir Clinton, 14 Death rates, 51, 142–143 Debre´, Miche´l, 119, 257; reforms, 258 Defence Requirements Committee, British, 45 Defense, Department of, 149, 153, 174, 235–236, 256 Defense, French Ministry of, 93, 97– 98, 116, 119–120, 203, 148, 154 Defense, Secretary of, 236 De´fense national, 120 Defense White Paper of 1946, 125 Deferments, 101, 173, 175; growth of, 119, 151, 224; occupational, 171– 172, 250; procedure, 26–27, 91, 101– 104, 126–127, 235; for students, 127, 189 Deferments, American system, 100, 102, 127; criticism of, 78, 236–237, 252; military and, 38, 60, 131, 175, 235; Nixon and, 132, 140; reform of, 58, 105, 129–130, 237; and students, 105, 129, 131–132, 190; workers and, 170, 173 Deferments, British system: controls over, 66, 87, 91–92, 123, 125–126, 167–170, 220–221; procedure for, 49, 87–92, 124–125, 163; special occupations and, 49, 92, 163–164, 166, 169; and students, 121–128, 137, 168, 193 Deferments, French system, 20, 120,

168, 227; debate over, 116, 118, 222–223; and economy, 38, 178; and education, 27, 117, 119–120, 129, 134–135; military and, 37, 116– 117; procedure for, 15, 18, 37, 93– 95, 97, 116–117, 120, 127; totals of, 119–120, 135, 178, 224–225, 257 Delinquency, 96, 192, 202, 253–255, 259. See also Bon absent Demobilization, 50, 66, 148, 199, 231– 232 Democratic National Committee, 238 Democratic Party, 228–229, 230, 233, 235–236 Demographic trends, 5, 25, 248; American, 130, 175; British, 220; French, 28, 51, 55, 93, 118, 179, 224, 257 Dennys, C. G., 198 Dentistry, 103, 117, 124–125, 134, 197 Dependency, 101, 103, 131, 172, 175 Desertions, 13, 202, 204, 252, 258 D’Estaing, Valery Giscard, 257 DeVilliers, H. M., 50 Dien Bien Phu, 223 Dior, Christian, 151 Direction Centrale du Service National (DSN), 93 Director of Selective Service, 59, 100, 102–103, 172, 191 Dirigistes, 176 Disarmament conference, 45, 57 Disponibles, 53 District Manpower Boards, 89, 91, 106 Divinity students, 38, 255 Dodd, Alvin E., 171 Draftees: American, 74, 100–101, 259; British, 67, 147; French, 51, 55, 67, 98, 118, 153, 180, 257–259. See also Conscripts Dreyfus, Alfred, 20, 27 Duboin, Jacques, 54 Dunlop, J. K., 249 Dutch ports, 47 Dykstra, Clarence, 99, 170–171

INDEX Earl Roberts of Kandahar, 14 East Germany, 66, 129 Eastern Europe, 45, 218, 232, 234 E´coles normales d’ instituer, 117 E´coles primaires, 116, 119 Economy, 119, 175, 177, 179, 185, 248; American, 35, 38, 65, 170– 175, 233, 237; British, 48, 66, 68, 86–87, 125, 162, 167–169, 177, 218; French, 18, 53–54, 118, 135, 161, 176–179; mobilization of, 26, 161–162, 176, 179 Education, 5, 14, 101, 189, 204, 220; America and, 114, 128; Britain and, 124, 126; France and, 18, 94, 114– 119, 120, 134–135, 154, 206, 257; deferments and, 18, 113–114, 120, 132–133, 151, 257; military service and, 7, 34, 76, 99, 231, 233 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 148, 232–233, 235 Election campaigns, 52, 100, 219, 227, 229, 233, 235–238 Elite classes, 37; in Britain, 86, 121, 124, 215–216; in France, 114–115, 120, 216, 225; in the United States, 35, 100, 127, 227–228 Emergency Powers Bill, 165 Empire, British, 43–44, 46, 66–67 Empire, French, 16 Employees, 170, 178 Employers, 88, 167–168, 215; and appeals, 163; and deferments, 89, 91, 101, 170 Employment exchange, 86–87, 165, 196 Engels, Frederick, 5, 7 Engineering, 126, 130, 163; and mobilization, 37, 153, 175, 177, 180; special treatment for, 88, 90, 97, 113, 120–121, 130, 177; student deferments, 120–121, 123–124, 126, 128–130, 168 Enlistments, 36, 60, 76, 113, 166, 233; American, 11, 73, 105, 132, 140, 231, 235, 244; British, 90, 217; sources of, 74 Enrollment Act of 1863, 11

291

Equality of service. See Equity Equity, 26, 35, 178 ESPACE, 97, 146, 151 Essential workers, 101, 167, 174, 231 Eugenics, 14 European colonies, 68 Evaders, draft, 16, 84, 247, 250, 252, 258–259; in Britain, 251; in France, 259; in the United States, 247, 252, 255, 261. See also Protest EVASIFX, 147 Executive Order 9981, 234 Exemptions, 17, 26, 189–190, 255; American, 38, 232; British, 67, 87– 89, 193–194; French 14, 18–19, 27, 93, 95–96, 119–120, 177, 201, 222, 255 Expeditionary forces, 44–45, 47, 58, 217 Fabian socialists, 13 Faivre, Maurice, 2 Far East, 45, 218 Farms, 196, 228; British, 167, 169, 196; deferments for, 166, 169, 173– 175; French, 176–178; labor of, 26, 38, 171, 173–174, 177 Fathers, 103–104, 171, 173, 232, 236 Federal Bureau of Investigation, 207, 253 Fellowship of Reconciliation, 194 Females, 93, 189. See also Women Finance, 17, 44, 46, 56 Fines, 16, 250–251, 259–260 Fire ﬁghters, 205, 225 First Lord of the Admiralty, 220 Fitness, 96, 99, 141, 164 Flandin, Pierre, 55 Foreign exchange rate, British, 66 Foreign ministers council, 232 Foreign Ofﬁce, French. See Quai d’Orsay Foreign policy, 35, 44, 218, 231–232 Foreign Secretary, British, 66 Forestry, 135, 176, 191, 203, 205 IV-F, 147 Fourth Republic, 117 Franco-Prussian war, 222

292

INDEX

Fraternal Council of Negro Churches, 233 Fredrickson, George, 2 French, Paul Comly, 190 French North Africa, 68 French paciﬁsm, 211 French Revolution, 5, 9, 15, 19, 26, 200, 221 Frick, Henry, 35 Friedman, Milton, 175, 237 Friends, Society of, 190, 248 Friends Service Committee, 194 Fuel and Power, Minister of, 169 Galbraith, John K., 175, 237 Gallup poll, 149, 217, 228, 233–234. See also Public opinion Gamelin, General Maurice, 55–56 Gardner, Augustus P., 35 Garrison, Lindley M., 36 Gaulle, Charles de, 54–55, 68, 202– 203, 223 Geddes, Auckland, 85, 162 General Service Corps, British, 90 General staff: British, 47; French, 28, 52–53 Genocide, 201 Geography, 25–26, 57, 141, 151 Geophysics, 129 Germany, 15, 28, 36, 50, 65, 68, 148, 153, 164, 201, 203, 257; aggression by, 28, 44–46, 54, 56–57, 177, 217, 223, 228–229; army, 5, 13, 19, 46– 47, 57, 59; France and, 18, 26, 51– 52, 55, 117; mobilization of, 45, 54– 56, 230 G.I. bill, 233 Ginger You’re Barmy, 250 Goldwater, Barry, 236, 237 Gort, General John S., 47 Governors, American, 58, 172, 230 Graduate students, 119–120, 126, 128, 130–132, 137 Grande e´coles, 114, 117, 120, 135 “Grande Muette, la,” 19 Great Society, 153 Greece, 66, 126, 232 Green, William, 131

Greene, Graham, 120 Grigg, General P. J., 49, 199 Gross national product, French, 54, 177 “Groupe permanent lutte illitrisme,” 154 Guardsmen, British, 48 Guerrilla wars, 68, 248 Guillaumat, General Marie Louis, 20 Gulf War of 1991, 180, 227, 248

Halleck, Charles A., 230 Hamiltonianism, 6, 99 Hammis, S. H., 123 Handicapped, 167 Harrington, Fred, 132 Harvard University, 130, 132 Hay, James, 36 Health, 18, 99, 130, 189, 192; and military, 97, 141, 171, 180, 231; national comparison of, 144; standards of, 141, 151 Health, Ministry of, British, 89 Henderson, Gerald, 195 Hershey, Col. Lewis B., 105, 149, 227, 232; on COs, 191–192; and deferments, 64, 104, 128; and draft bill, 59, 231, 235, 253; on draft of workers, 59, 172, 174; on induction standards, 142, 149, 153; relations with military, 60, 99, 173 High school students, 130–131, 228 Hilton, Stanley, 198 Hitler, Adolf, 45–47, 56, 86, 216–217 Holland, 47 Home Secretary, 165 Homosexuality, 151 Hore-Belisha, Leslie, 46–47 Hospitals, 96, 146, 153, 190, 192, 196, 205 House Armed Service Committee, 231, 234 House of Commons, 12, 67, 194, 217, 219 House of Representatives, U.S., 231– 234 Howe, Harold, 132

INDEX Humanities, and student deferments, 130 Humphrey, Hubert, 235, 237 Hygienics, 14

Ideology, 5, 54, 221 Illinois, 11 Illiteracy, 142, 154, 180, 225 Immigrants, 11, 99, 118 Imperialism, 215, 219, 230, 255 Impoˆt du sang, 17 Imprisonment, 102, 197, 199 Independence movements, 68 India, 13, 45 Indiana, 11 Indiana University, 130 Indo-China, 67–68, 178, 223, 229, 257 Inductions, 155, 197; examination for, 60, 146, 149; French and, 19, 93, 135, 148, 257–258; for Korean War, 105; procedure, 77, 82, 145, 164, 230, 235; rate of, 20, 49–50, 102–103, 105, 231; standards of, 60, 104, 146, 148–151, 230, 232; statistics on, 77, 252, 254; for Vietnam War, 193, 255–256; in World War II, 104, 192, 244 Industry: American, 35, 37, 131, 171, 173–175; British, 44, 50, 66, 85–86, 90–92, 121–123, 162, 164–165, 168– 169, 196; deferments and, 50, 131, 169; French, 29, 37, 176–177, 179, 206; and war, 161, 215; workers and, 29, 37, 124, 174 Infantry, 98, 225 Interior, Minister of, French, 55, 97, 205 Insoumis, 16, 256 Institute Franc¸ais d’Opinion Publique (IFOP), 226; survey, 226 Insurrections, communist-led, 66 Intellectuals, 99, 201–202, 256–257 Intelligence standard, 130, 147, 149– 150 International affairs, 38, 219 Internment camps, French, 202

293

Invalids, French, 256 Isolationism, 26, 38, 57–58, 64 Jail terms, 87, 167; and COs, 199, 201, 204, 207; and evaders, 250– 251, 259 Japan, 50, 129, 229–230 Jaure`s, Jean, 20–21, 27–29, 56, 222– 224 Jeffersonian ideology, 6, 99 Jehovah’s Witnesses, 195, 198, 200, 207–208, 253, 256 Jim Crow, 233 Jobs corps, 154, 179 Johnson, Edwin, 232 Johnson, Hugh, 58 Johnson, Lyndon, 77, 132; approval rating, 253, 261; and draft reform, 78, 99, 132, 236; expands calls, 131, 175, 236, 254; Vietnam and, 79, 236 Joint Army Navy Selective Service Committee (JANSSC), 57–58, 190 Joint Chiefs of Staff, 234 Joint Recruiting Boards (JRB), 92, 121– 122, 123, 124, 127 Judicial Commission, 203, 205 Judicial review, 195, 251 Just war, theory of, 200 Justice, Department of, 102, 191, 207, 254 Kennedy, John, 142, 236 Kenya, 66, 67 Kew Record Ofﬁce, 88 King, Martin Luther, 192, 254 Kipling, Rudyard, 14 Kitchner, Horatio Herbert, 216 Korean War, 66–67, 105, 126, 169, 174, 219, 235, 253; American service in, 131, 174; British and, 67, 146, 148, 165; COs and, 192, 261; and draft, 105, 148–150, 169, 228, 247–248, 255, 261; French and, 67, 117, 224; intervention in, 130, 174, 235; protest and, 77, 131, 235, 254; racism and, 64, 230

294

INDEX

Korean armistice, 175, 219 Kramer, Col. H. C., 58 L’Arme´e nouvelle, 20, 222 Labor, American, 38, 104, 215, 229– 230; controls and utilization, 42, 161, 169–172, 179; deferment of, 130–131; opposition of, 13, 37, 170, 172, 233, 252; and war, 161, 169 Labor, British, 125, 194, 216, 218– 219; Korean War and, 168; mobilization of, 161, 165, 172; opposition of, 162–165, 218, 249–250; regulation of, 167; shortages of, 125, 168; strikes and, 250 Labor, Department of, 174 Labor, French, 29, 179, 258 Labour, Ministry of (MLNS), 48–50, 85–87, 121, 127, 162–163, 167, 198, 199, 221; and COs, 195–200; deferments by, 91–92, 123, 164, 169; operates draft, 49, 88–90, 126–127, 164–169, 251; students and, 122– 127 Labour Party, 65–67, 87; on draft, 6, 125, 168, 215–216, 218–220 Laird, Melvin, 237 Lamiraud, Georges, 117 Landry, A. D., 124 Latin, 126 Laws, American, 26, 104, 113, 250; of 1940, 100–103; of 1948, 148 Laws, British, 26, 87, 89, 113; and COs, 195–196; of 1939, 194; of 1941, 250 Laws, French, 17, 26, 113, 120, 178; and COs, 201–205; and evaders, 258; law of 1818, 16; law of 1905, 19; law of 1913, 29; law of 1928, 53, 55, 116, 257; law of 1938, 57; law of 1959, 119; laws of 1871– 1872, 17–19, 27; reform of, 17, 222. See also Codes, legal Lawyers, 92, 97, 99 League for Recognition of Conscientious Objection, 201 League of Human Rights, 201

Lecoin, Louis, 201 Leeds prison, 199 Left, French, 26; and army, 27, 29, 52, 55, 222–224, 226; and COs, 201, 204–205; reforms and, 21, 27. See also Socialists Legislators, French, 203 Length of service, French, 26–28 Leotard, Franc¸ois, 154 Leve´e en masse, 26, 56, 221, 248 Levy of 1793, 15 Levy of 1799, 15 Lewis, John L., 170 Liability: in Britain, 26, 87, 113; in France, 118–119; in the United States, 88, 100, 105, 232, 235 Liberal Party, 215 Liberalism, 205, 216, 236 “Liberte,” 201 Liddell-Hart, B. H., 46, 66, 216, 249 Life expectancy, 142–143 Limited wars, 247–248 Lincoln, Abraham, 10 Linguists, French, 97 Literacy training, 154, 159 Local boards, 105, 149, 195; deferments by, 128, 130, 132; membership of, 64, 78, 86, 105, 127; operations of, 38, 59, 100–101, 104, 146–147, 150, 170–171, 235, 251; standards of, 60, 103; workers and, 170–174 Local boards, American, 236; and COs, 190–192; and deferments, 101, 129; and draft protest, 254; membership of, 38, 101; procedures, 60, 99–104, 145–146; public opinion and, 78–79, 103, 253; strikes and, 172–173 Local boards, British: character of, 87– 88; and deferments, 89; deferments and delays by, 128, 170 Local boards, French, 16 Local tribunal, British, 193–197, 199– 200 Locarno Treaty 46, 56 “Loi Debre´,” 225 “Loi Jourdan,” 3, 15

INDEX “Loi sur l’organisation de la nation,” 55 Lottery: in American system, 38, 78, 100, 103, 132, 220, 229, 237, 256; in British system, 166–167, 221; in French system, 16, 18 Louis XVIII, 16 Low countries, 45 Lyautely, Louis Hubert, 20, 116–117 Lycees colleges, 115, 117 MacArthur, Douglas, 58, 232 MacDonald, Malcolm, 67 Machiavelli, Niccolo`, 10 Machine guns, 30, 197 Machinists, 37, 131, 177 Maghrib, 68 Maginot Line, 46 Malaysia, 66–67, 219, 248 Male age cohort, 26, 224 Male population, 48, 50, 53, 168; college enrollment of, 114, 128, 131; in World War I, 39, 51, 201. See also Demographic trends Managerial class, 87 Manpower: American, 37, 103–104, 129, 131, 170, 174, 231, 234; British, 48–50, 85–86, 90–92, 162–164; French, 28, 54, 57, 179, 225, 227, 258; management of, 37, 76, 99, 102, 171; surplus of, 235, 248 Manufacturing, British, 66 Marines, 235 Marital status, 15, 38, 101, 103, 236 Marshall, George C., 59–60, 129, 173, 229–230, 234 Marshall Plan, and French economy, 177 Martin, Lt. Gen. H. G., 50 Master’s license, French, 120 Mauroy, Pierre, 179 Mayor, French, 93, 95 McGovern, George, 238 McNamara, Robert, 153 McNutt, Paul, 104, 172 Mechanics, 99, 131, 177 Medical advisory committees, 144 Medical board, British, 89, 146

295

Medical categories, 89 Medical defects, 147 Medical examination, 26, 91, 96, 144– 145, 250–251 Medical proﬁle, French. See SIGYCOP Medical specialist, 96, 146 Medical standards, 141 Medical students, 124–126 Medicine, 117, 128–129, 134, 141 Mendes-France, Pierre, 224 Mennonites, 190 Mental aptitude exams, 96, 144–145 Mental illness, 149–151 Mental screening, 149–151 Messmer, Pierre, 201, 226 Metallurgy, 123 Methodists, 193 Metropolitan Life Insurance Company, 142 Mexico, 10, 36 Michigan, 11 Michigan, University of, 130, 254 Middle East, 232 Milice, 14 Militarism, 2, 6, 230, 249–250 Military, American, 60, 100, 103–104, 148, 153, 171, 193, 233–234 Military, British, 45, 47–49, 57, 65, 85, 147, 168, 180, 217, 219, 221, 249; and COs, 197–199; and schools, 122, 124 Military, French, 51, 56, 68, 97, 117, 144, 179–180, 200, 217, 225; callups and assignments, 57, 96–99, 153, 257; deferments and, 116, 118; education and, 115–116, 154, 180; politics and, 20, 27, 180, 223–224; reforms of, 53, 119, 180, 222; tour length, 52–53, 257 Military budget, 43, 178 Military doctrine, 51, 54 Military justice, code of, 201–202, 258 Military manpower, 13, 29, 37, 164, 223–224, 232 Military ofﬁcers, 203, 228, 249, 258 Military participation rate (MPR), 13, 22, 131–132 Military pay, 147, 225, 258

296

INDEX

Military planning, 26, 54, 99 Military recruiting, 173, 216, 234 Military service: in Britain, 27, 50, 121, 124, 162, 198, 217, 218; in France, 3, 15, 17, 27, 53, 55, 93, 119, 145, 177–180, 221, 224–226, 256–257; in the United States, 4, 10, 26, 132, 229 Military Service (Hardship) Committee, 92 Military strategy, 13, 28–29, 51, 161 Military technology, 39, 122 Military training, 20, 26, 35, 55, 99, 113, 121, 154, 177, 194, 215–217, 225, 229, 232 Military Training Act, British 87, 121, 216–217 Military Training Camp Association, 35, 59, 228 Militia, 5, 9–10, 12–14, 19, 36, 53, 215 Militia Acts, 4, 10, 52, 194 Millerand, Alexandre, 21 Miners, 166–169, 178 Minister of Labour and National Service. See Labour, Ministry of Ministerial exemptions, 38, 189–190, 208 Ministe`re des Arme´es, 120 Minorities, American, 230, 236. See also African Americans; Black Americans; Negroes Minuteman, 27, 35, 37, 229 Mitterrand, Franc¸ois, 206, 257 Moberly, Walter, 122 Mobilization, 44, 50, 56, 99, 149, 161– 162, 247 Mobilization, American, 21, 35–36, 57, 105, 128, 217, 228; and Cold War, 174–175; and Korean War, 174; and Vietnam War, 175; and World War I, 170; and World War II, 59 Mobilization, British, 121–122, 162– 163; efﬁciency of, 44, 48, 50 Mobilization, French, 52–53, 56, 204; problems of, 29, 57, 223; theory of, 26, 29, 51, 53; and World War I,

17, 29, 52; and World War II, 57, 177 Mollet, Pierre, 224 Monarchy, French, 19, 27 Montgomery, Bernard Law, 66 Morale, 13, 28, 54, 215–216 Morgan, J. P., 35 Morgenthau, Henry, 59 Morocco, 68, 116 Mortality rate, 118, 142–143 Moynihan, Daniel Patrick, 153 Munich Accord, 46–47, 56, 162, 216 Munitions of War Act, 162 Muslims, 256 Nagasaki, 231 Napoleon, 13, 15–16, 27–28, 176, 221 Napoleon III, 17, 27 Napoleonic wars, 12–15 Nation in arms, theory of, 3, 14, 51, 53, 179, 225 National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, 130 National Assembly, 5, 93, 201, 205 National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), 233 National Association of State Universities, 127 National Council Against Conscription, 193 National Defense Act, 35–36, 57 National Guard, 12, 36, 38, 59, 100, 130 National Peace Council, 194, 249 National Register of Births, 88, 217 National Registration Act, 162 National Securities Act, 174 National Security League, 35 National Security Resources Board (NSRB), 174 National service, 25, 90, 120, 163, 206; debate over, 14, 169, 173, 219– 220 National service, British: debate and criticism of, 217, 219–220, 250; labor and, 137, 162–163, 168, 220 National service, French, 94, 118, 120,

INDEX 222, 225; options in, 97–98, 180, 259; protest and reform of, 135, 179, 205–206, 259 National Service (Armed Force) Act, 86–87, 121, 163, 250 National Service (No. 2) Act, 87, 90 National Service (Release of COs) Act, 199 National Service Acts, 1947–1949, 66– 67, 125 National Service Appeal, 86 National Service law, 67, 168, 172– 173 National Service League, 14, 216 National service men, 67, 89, 148, 199, 219, 221 National Socialist Party, 45 National Training Act, British, 86 Nationalism, 21, 35, 195 Navy, American, 59, 128, 231, 235 Navy, British, 43–44, 88, 197. See also Royal Navy Nazis, 177, 230 Negroes, 233. See also African Americans; Black Americans Nelson, Gaylord, 149 Neurological problems, 150, 153 Neutrality, American, 35 Neutrality laws, 58 New Army, British, 216 New England, 141, 255 New Orleans, battle of, 10 New York City, 11, 102, 254 1968 presidential election campaign, 237 Nixon, Richard M.: and draft reforms, 132–133, 140, 228, 235, 237–238, 256; politics of, 175, 237–238, 256; promotes all-volunteer force, 133, 237; protest and, 255–256 No-conscription League, 249 Noncombat assignments, 15, 204, 250; and COs, 38, 190–192, 194–199 Noncommissioned ofﬁcers (NCOs), 56, 99, 118, 258 North Africa, 49, 68 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 66, 218, 221

297

North Korea, 130, 192, 219, 253 North Vietnam, 237 Northern Ireland, 48 Nuclear weapons, 179, 219, 223–224, 227, 257 Nye, Gerald, 58 Oakes, James, 11–12, 37 Occupational deferments, 89, 126–127, 130–131, 170–171; American, 133, 173; British, 86, 92, 162; French, 57 Ofﬁce of Production Management, 171 Ofﬁce of Scientiﬁc Research and Development, 129 Ofﬁce of War Mobilization and Reconversion (OWMR), 173, 231 Ofﬁcers, 52; American, 58, 100, 129; British, 13, 50, 86, 89, 121–122, 124; French, 19–20, 51, 56, 116, 222–224, 258 Ohio, 11 Oil embargo, 178 1-A classiﬁcation, 75, 77, 128, 132, 255 I-O classiﬁcation, 190, 191, 193 I-A-O classiﬁcation, 190 Operation Overlord, 173 Ordonance of Louvois, 14 Oriel College, 122, 124 Oxbridge, 114 Oxford, 121–124, 127 “Pacem in Terris,” 202 Paciﬁsts, 233, 250, 254–255; American, 190, 192, 252; British, 44, 193– 194, 196–197; French, 200–202, 256; movement, 37, 43, 58, 189– 193 Palestine, 66, 67, 219 Palmer, Col. John M., 39 Parachute units, 201 Paramedical personnel, 201 Paris, 17, 94, 151, 177, 222, 257 Parlement, French, 53, 179. See also National Assembly Parliament, 12, 14, 86–87, 195 Parsons, Charles L., 129 Pasco, Lionel, 178

298

INDEX

Patriotic consensus, and colonial wars, 248 Patriotism, 28, 129, 162, 195, 221, 224, 227 Patterson, Robert, 128–129, 233 Peace churches, 190, 193, 198, 200, 248, 294. See also Paciﬁsts Peace corps, French, 227 Peace treaties, 50, 57, 148, 224 Pearl Harbor, 49, 104, 145, 146, 148, 153, 230, 248, 253 Peasants, French, 114, 222 Pen, John Marie Le, 154 Penalties, 102, 258 Pension, 17, 150 Pensions and National Insurance, Ministry of, 88 Pentagon, 254 Petain, Phillipe, 55, 223 Pharmacy, 117 Phipps, Sir Eric C., 46 Physical examination, 38, 53, 67, 101, 141–142, 146–147, 174 Physical standards, 146–148; American, 60, 105, 142, 148–149; British, 89, 146–148, 153; French, 16, 95– 96, 145–147, 153. See also Inductions Physicians, 95, 103, 146, 148, 150; American, 101, 142, 145–146; British, 67, 86, 89, 92, 145–147; French, 205 Physics, 113, 123, 129 Pigott, Brigadier A.J.K., 49 Pilots, 97, 124 Pioneer battalions, 150, 153 Plattsburg Training Camp Association, 99, 231, 215 Pleven, Rene´, 224 Poincare´, Raymond, 21, 29 Poland, 47, 56, 59, 65, 86, 217, 232, 234 Police, 101, 135, 194 Politics, 25–26, 85, 114, 148, 204, 215, 233; American, 57, 227; and army, 19–20, 50–52, 54, 56, 98, 221–223; British, and army, 48; on draft law, 26, 66, 217–218; French,

28–29, 116, 180, 200, 224; and opposition, 28, 54; and reform, 17–19, 55, 221, 225–226; on reform, 35, 58, 78, 129, 148, 150, 228–230 Polls: American, 228, 235, 237, 253; British, 218–221, 249–250; French, 202, 225–227. See also Public opinion Pompidou, Georges, 205 Pompiers, 120 Population, 151, 248; American, 175; French, 28, 118, 145, 176, 221. See also Demographic trends Posse comitatus, 25 Pownall, General Henry, 47 Prefect, French, 95–96 Preparedness, 35–36, 252 President, American, 36, 38, 100, 253; COs and, 190–191, 207; and deferments, 27, 38, 130 President, French, 221 Press: British, 92, 163; French, 154, 201 Prime Minister: British, 48, 50, 90; French, 203 Prison sentence: for COs, 192, 194, 198–199, 201–203, 207; for evaders, 86, 202, 253, 260 Prisoners of war, French, 144 Professional armies, 4, 10, 13, 18–19, 27–28, 30, 53, 56, 222–223, 226– 227, 248–249, 259 Professions: British, 92, 164; French, 120 Progressive elites, 6, 12, 35, 99, 170 Project 100,000, 153 Prosecutions, 78, 84, 192, 251–252 Protective Mobilization Plan, 59 Protest, 248, 254–255; American, 77, 251–252; British, 13, 251; French, 17, 205, 256–259; Vietnam and, 236, 254–255. See also Antimilitarism Protestantism, 58, 200–201 Provost Marshall General, 252 Prussia, 5, 13, 17, 27, 222 Psychiatry, 149–151 Psychology, 96–97, 146, 149–150

INDEX Public: American, 131, 228; British, 66, 124, 167, 221, 250 Public health, 6, 127, 205 Public Law 54, 231 Public opinion, 173, 228, 253; American, 78–79, 103, 127, 173, 228, 230– 232, 234, 250, 252; British, 47, 86, 194, 216–220, 250; French, 224– 226, 259. See also Polls Public relations, 217, 228 Public schools, 114, 166, 190 PULHEEMS tests, 147–148, 150 Pusey, Nathan M., 132 Quai d’Orsay, 56 Quakers, 189–190, 193, 248 Race, 5, 150, 193; and draft calls, 60, 103, 230; rejection rate and, 142; World War I and, 38 Radar, 129 Radicals, 37, 67, 132, 202, 256, 258 Raphael, D. Daniel, 123 Rassemblement pour la Re´publique (RPR-Gaullist), 224, 226 Reagan, Ronald, 237 Rebellion, French, punishment of, 259 Rebels, 201–202, 256, 258–259 Reclassiﬁcation, 132 Reconstruction, 52, 125, 231 Recruiting, 27, 38, 54, 147, 234; American, 234; British, 13, 44, 47– 48, 61, 89, 124, 167, 219–221; French, 16, 28, 55, 145, 151, 154, 223 Recruitment law of 1913, 21 Recruitment law of 1889, 27 Reenlistment, 231 Reformed Church of France, 201 Reforms, 119; American, 77; French, 18–20, 27, 52–53, 55–56, 202, 224– 225, 257 Regional ofﬁces, 89, 95, 117, 147 Regionalism, 193 Registration, 26, 59, 88–89, 172, 254– 255; American, 38, 59, 100–105, 175, 192–193, 235, 244, 252–253; British, 49–50, 86–89, 92, 121, 126,

299

164–167, 194, 196, 250–251; French, 93–97, 116, 148, 154, 203, 257–259 Regular Army, 36, 38–39, 59, 153, 216, 220, 249 Rehabilitation, 144, 148, 153–154 Rejectees: in Britain, 13, 88, 153; causes of, 89, 141, 151, 153; comparison of, 146, 151–152; in France, 144, 146, 149, 151, 153, 204; rates of, 101, 141–142, 149, 151–152, 178; in the United States, 102, 142, 146, 148, 153 Religion, 189, 201; in Britain, 193; and COs, 190–192, 200, 203–204, 249, 256; in France, 200, 202; in the United States, 190, 253. See also Clergy Republicans: American, 77, 228, 230, 233, 235–236; French, 18–20, 54, 57, 222 Reserve Ofﬁcer Training Corps, 12 Reserve ofﬁcers, 58–60 Reservists, 29, 36, 74; American, 58, 100, 105, 130, 132, 174–175, 235; British, 67, 121, 127, 168, 199, 217, 249; French, 17–18, 29, 53, 55, 57, 118, 177, 223 Resisters: American, 250, 252–256, 262; British, 248–251; French, 257, 259. See also Protest Revolution, French, 14–15, 18, 20, 176, 215, 248 Rhineland, 45, 54, 56 Right, French, 20, 27, 222–224 Rights of Man, 3, 15, 25 Riots, 6, 11, 231, 251, 259 Roberts, Owen, 253 Robinson, Robert, 122 Rockefeller, Nelson, 237 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 47, 58–59, 103, 233; and deferments, 128–129, 153, 173; and draft, 58, 102, 129, 170–171, 217, 228–230; and manpower, 60, 104, 170–172; promotes defense, 58, 153, 229; public opinion and, 228, 253, 261 Roosevelt, Theodore, 12, 35, 37

300

INDEX

Root, Elihu, 12, 35 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 3 Rowe, James, Jr., 229 Royal Air Force (RAF), 49, 221 Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC), 100, 197 Royal Army Pay Corps (RAPC), 197 Royal Artillery, 198 Royal Navy, 4, 13, 49 Royalists, 222 Royall, Kenneth C., 234 Rural areas, 35, 116, 141, 226. See also Agriculture Russia, 19, 57, 65–66, 129, 229–230, 232 Ryan Aeronautical Company, 172 Saint-Laurent, Yves, 151 Schedule of Reserved Occupations (SRO), 86–87, 91–92, 121, 164, 167, 170 Scholars, British, 121 Schools, 101, 121, 144, 150; British, 92, 122, 124–126; French, 4, 116– 119, 206 Science, 26, 130, 175; advisory boards for, 88, 130; British, 86, 88; deferment of, 92, 121–122, 124–126, 129–130, 169; protest by, 233; war work of, 97, 113, 119, 129 Science Advisory Committee, 130 Scotland, 50, 195 Scott, General Hugh, 36 Scottish Trade Union, 163 Secondary education, French, 116, 119 Segregation, 103, 230, 233–234 Selection process: American, 60, 100, 105; French, 16, 93, 95–96, 98, 118, 145–147, 149, 154, 178, 225 Selective conscientious objection, 192 Selective Service College Qualiﬁcation Test (SSCQT), 132; results of, 131 Selective Service System (SSS), 82, 99, 142, 172, 174, 191; and COs, 190, 193; and Korean War, 174; operation of, 79, 99, 102–104, 128–130, 153, 171–172, 175, 229, 232, 253; and politics, 37–38, 58–60, 100,

104, 227, 231–232; popularity of, 227; and Vietnam, 78, 131, 256; and World War I, 38 Self-mutilation, 202, 258 Seminarians, French, 18, 189–190, 193 Senate, French, 27, 201, 203 Senate, U.S., 51, 149, 231–233 “Service a´ la carte,” 97, 120 “Service de cooperation,” 99 Service Nationale, 118, 149 Service options, French, 98, 120 Seymour, Charles, 127 Shee, George F., 216 Shipbuilding, 88 Short, Dewey, 230 SIGYCOP system, 96, 147, 151 Skilled labor, 37, 91, 131, 165, 171; American, 38; British, 90, 120, 168 Small Business, House Committee on, 173 Small businesses, 178, 248 Smith, Harold, 229 Snyder, John D., 231 Social aides, 180, 205 Social sciences, 130 Social Security, 236 Socialists, American, 37, 230 Socialists, French, 5, 27, 55, 120; on army, 20, 28, 222, 224; on conscription, 6, 224–225, 258; and COs, 202; on COs, 201, 206 Society: American, 35, 99, 103, 175, 193; British, 48, 150, 193; French, 20, 51–52 Society of Friends, 193 Soldiers, 161, 191; British, 50, 86, 92; French, 28, 52, 54, 56–57, 116, 259 South, American, 103, 141, 153 South Africa, 215 South Korea, 72, 130, 174, 192 Southeast Asia, 236 Soviet Union, 65–67, 168, 218–219, 230, 232, 234 Spanish-American War, 12 Specialized manpower, 26, 86, 89, 113, 122, 164 Spock, Benjamin, 255 Sports, 144, 205–206

INDEX

301

St. Cyr, military academy of, 46 State adjutants general, 58 State boards, 6, 58, 100–101, 190–191 Stevenson, Adlai, 235, 237 Stimson, Henry, 12, 35, 39, 60, 100, 104, 172, 174 Stock market crash, 43, 45 Strachey, John, 67 Strategy: American, 59; French, 51–52, 57, 223 Strikes: American, 172, 233, 250; British, 165, 167, 250 Students, 26, 75, 128, 196, 247 Students, American, 127, 132; deferment of, 78, 105, 127–132, 139– 140, 175; on draft, 132, 228; evasion and protest by, 132, 175, 255 Students, British, deferment of, 92, 121– 126, 168–169 Students, French, 134–135; and COs, 201, 204; deferment of, 18, 116– 120, 125, 178, 225; military and, 114, 124, 226, 257; protest by, 257– 258 Students for a Democratic Society, 255 Student Nonviolence Coordinating Committee, 228, 254 Substitutes, 11, 15–17, 27, 38, 92 Sudetenland, 46 Suez, 3, 66, 68, 220 Summerskill, Edith, 147 Superior War Council, 55 Supreme Court, 25, 192, 252, 254 Surgeon General of the Army, 148 Sursis. See Exemptions Sweden, 249 Switzerland, 25, 249 Symington, Stuart, 174, 235

Term of duty, 18–19, 97, 199. See also Tour length Territorial Field Army, 47, 217, 249 Terrorists, 227 Tests battery, 150–151; American, 146, 153; French, 93, 97, 145, 150 Thiers, Louis Adolphe, 17–18, 27, 222 Third Republic, 17 Thomas, Norman, 230 Total war, 57, 161, 247 Totalitarianism, 249 Toulouse, 153 Tour length, 29, 52–54, 219–220, 225, 232; American, 230; British, 67, 87, 126, 219; French, 16–19, 21, 27, 37, 52–53, 119, 176, 178, 203, 222– 225 Tractors, 176, 178 Trade union, 163, 165, 175, 201 Trade Union Congress, 87, 163 Trade Union Council, 218 Tradesmen, British, 89, 165, 162, 168 Training, 121, 153, 189; military, 20, 28, 54, 88, 90, 99, 102, 249; workers, 165, 175, 247 Treason, 20 Treaty of Versailles, 44–46, 52, 54 Tribunals, British, 194–197, 198–199, 250 Trochu, General Louis Jules, 20 Trois jours, 96 Truman, Harry, 174; on deferments, 130–131; and draft, 129, 230–235; and Korean War, 130, 174; popularity of, 253, 261; segregation and, 234 Tunisia, 68 Twaddle, Harry L., 128

Taft-Hartley Act, 233 Tanks, 54, 189, 225 Teachers: British, 126; French, 18, 37, 97, 115–116, 133, 180, 204 Technical and Scientiﬁc Register, 125 Technical college, French, 119 Technicians, 26; American, 130; British, 92 Technology, 51, 121–122, 129, 255

Unconditional exemption, 195–196 Unemployment, 163, 171, 175; in Britain, 163–164, 196; in France, 154, 178–180, 223, 257; in the United States, 171 Unemployment Insurance Committee, 164 Unﬁt men, 95–96, 148 Union army, 11

302

INDEX

Union draft, 11 Union pour la De´mocratie Franc¸aise (UDF), 224 Unions, 161, 170, 250; American, 172, 233; British, 162–163, 168, 215, 217–218; French, 201, 257. See also Labor United Nations, 219, 232 Universal Military Training (UMT), 14, 129, 231, 233–234; American, 35, 229, 231; British, 168; French, 205–206, 225, 257 Universal Military Training and Service Act, 1951, 82 Universities, 35, 119, 128, 132; American, 114–115, 128, 132; British, 86, 92, 114, 121–122, 124–127; French, 114, 118–120, 180 University Joint Recruiting Board, 126 University of London, 121 Upton, Emory, 39 Urban areas, 38, 206, 253 Urban-industrial elite, 35, 38 U.S. attorneys, 105, 253 U.S. v. Seeger, 192 USSR, 167. See also Russia Utilization, 98, 120, 165, 179 Val-de-Grave hospital, 151 V-E Day, 167 Vende´e, 15 Venereal disease, 148 Veran, Emile, 201 Vers l’arme´e de me´tier, 54 Veterans, 102, 127, 235; American, 130, 174, 231; British, 67, 125–126; French, 93 Veterinary students, 125 Vettier, Jean-Marc, 205 Vichy, 68, 117, 223 Victory, J. F., 130 Vietnam War, 3, 105, 132–133, 248, 259; African Americans and, 154; COs and, 192–193, 209, 261; deferments and, 79, 132; effect on draft, 74, 78–79, 84, 149, 175, 228, 236, 247, 261; Johnson and, 79, 131, 236; Nixon and, 224, 237, 255; pol-

itics and protest of, 77–78, 236–237, 252–256 Vietnamization, 256 Vigilantism, 102 Violators of draft, 77, 86, 102, 251, 253, 256. See also Delinquency; Evaders, draft Virgin Soldier, 250 V-J Day, 231 Volunteering: in Civil War, 10–11; efﬁciency of, 35–36; on local boards, 86, 101, 104; promotion of, 249; shortage of, 231–235; in World War I, 35–38 Volunteers, 18, 76; American, 10, 12, 35–36, 38–39, 59, 65, 100, 102, 104, 129, 132, 171, 221, 231–234, 237; British, 13–14, 47–48, 50, 85– 86, 88, 122, 162, 164, 166–167, 216–217, 221; French, 52, 94, 97, 118, 179, 223 Wadsworth, James W., 59 Wales, 50, 86, 195 War, 195, 200 War, Department of, 103, 172; and demobilization, 231–232; and draft, 36–37, 58–60, 100, 129, 174, 232 War, Minister of: British, 52; French, 55 War, secretary of state for, 198, 221, 233 War Cabinet, British, 49, 163 War economy, 113, 161 War industry, 163–164, 166; American, 173–174; British, 48–50, 162, 165, 167; French, 57 War Manpower Commission (WMC), 60, 104, 172–173 War of 1812, 10 War of 1870, 17, 26–27 War Ofﬁce, British (WO), 47, 121, 123, 124, 145, 197–199, 219; and COs, 197–198; and deferments, 121, 123, 127, 164 War on Poverty, 175 War production, 161–162, 175; American, 171; British, 162; French, 177

INDEX War Resisters League, 254 War workers, 49, 171, 173, 199 Washington, George, 10 Watergate burglary, 238 Waterloo, 27 Weapon systems, 27, 113, 148 Weber, Eugen, 39 Weigley, Russell, 1 Welfare ofﬁcers, 101 Wellington, Duke of, 14 Wells, Herman, 130 West Germany, 232 Weygand, Maurice, 116 White House, 77 White Papers on Defense, 66, 219–221 Whites, 233 Wickard, Claude, 171 Wilkins, Roy, 233 Willkie, Wendell, 229 Wilson, Dagmar, 255 Wilson, Raymond, 190, 193 Wilson, Woodrow, 35–38 Wine consumption, 143 Wisconsin, 132 Women, 26, 37, 78, 194; British, enrollment of, 48–50, 86, 89–90, 163; control of, 161, 165; French, 15, 29 Women Strike for Peace, 255 Wood, Leonard, 35 Work camps, 193 Workers, 149, 171, 254; American, 170–175, 233 Workers, British, 65, 87, 162, 167, 215–216; control of, 163–168, 250; shortages of, 66, 90 Workers, French, 116, 176–178, 226 Workers of the World, 37 World War I, 12, 13, 14, 19, 25, 54,

303

57–59, 86, 94, 100, 120, 124, 165, 176, 201, 215, 228, 231, 249; battles and casualties in, 29, 39; and COs, 193–194; economy and, 113, 170–171; inductions in, 38, 128, 144; lessons of, 26, 39, 85, 157; politics and, 102, 258; tactics and strategy, 30, 39, 44, 51 World War I, America, 34, 36, 39, 99; army in, 38; draft in, 38, 252 World War II, Britain, 5, 12, 198; cost of, 39; economy and, 85; mobilization for, 162, 216 World War II, France, 30, 39, 222; army and, 29, 51, 54; economy and, 176–177, 256; losses in 143, 201; mobilization for, 17, 29, 51–52 World War II, 60, 65, 68, 88, 96, 100, 103–104, 105, 123–126, 145, 146, 150, 155, 169, 174, 176, 178, 192, 199, 223, 233–234, 251, 253, 257– 258; American troops in, 57–58; British in, 167–168, 194, 196, 198; COs and, 197, 207; deferments in, 91; demobilization and recovery, 218; draft in, 87, 113, 153, 228, 247, 253; draft resistance in, 252– 254; economy and, 174; French in, 56, 68, 94, 144, 176–177, 201, 224, 257; induction standards for, 101, 128, 142, 145–151, 153; politics of, 218; science in, 129 Wriston, Henry M., 130 Yale University, 127, 132 Youngstown, Ohio, 235 Youth: American, 251, 255; French, 20, 117, 119, 145, 202–203

About the Author GEORGE Q. FLYNN taught at Seattle University, Indiana University, the University of Miami, and Texas Tech University. He is the author of several books dealing with recent American political history. His most recent work is The Draft, 1940–1973 (1993). He resides in New Orleans, Louisiana.

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