Bandages and Baguettes, The Care and Feeding of the Great War Soldier

[SCEtoAUX]

That is a nice presentation, Thumb Dog.

I know what you mean about trying to maintain all of the intricate details of an old paper model when cutting them out. Some of those very thin and tiny parts are a pain to cut but they do tend to lend a more pleasant result if included. I have tried quite a few times to cut some small limb or hair and have given up only to regret the blasé look of the final result because of the lack of those small details.

Those details might not register prominently in the mind for the overall look, but the subconscious does seem to note them, lending greatly to the overall esthetics of the model.

Edging them is quite an undertaking too.

[Thumb Dog]

Hi All,

This week I'll present two and a half dioramas.

Being wounded in the Great War was the beginning of a frightening and dangerous journey. If you were incapacitated on the battlefield and your comrades couldn’t reach you, your chances of survival were slim. Death might come from shellfire, exposure, dehydration or gas, to name but a few. If you were lucky enough to be removed from the field, your chances weren’t much better. Your mud-filled wound would quickly turn septic, and you would die from the battlefield scourge of infection. Before the introduction of effective antibiotics, it was infection that caused the greatest loss of life and limb in wartime. In order to prevent its onset, you needed to be taken to a battlefield aid station as quickly as possible.

As mentioned before, organized nursing and extended battlefield care were introduced during the Crimean War. Sixty years later, the lessons of that distant conflict were put to the test in the War to End All Wars. One of the lessons learned was to provide immediate care to the wounded soldier, and thus the aid station was born. The first priority was to transport the wounded out of range of the fighting. Secondly, such treatment facilities should be located in a shelter of some kind, but if none were available, the wounded could be strewn about in the open air. Trained staff and equipment were always in short supply, but the doctors and nurses did their best to staunch the bleeding and relieve the pain. If a soldier survived his treatment at the aid station, he would be shipped off to a makeshift hospital that could be set up anywhere from a civic gymnasium to the ballroom of a nearby châteaux. This all seems fairly primitive by modern standards, but the process saved tens of thousands of men so that they might either return to the battlefield or, luckily, to their wives and sweethearts back home.

Below are photographs of two dioramas of French aid stations. The first is from Pellerin, titled, “Une Ambulance Sur le Front.” It shows a busy scene of doctors and nurses rendering care to the wounded Poilus. The model includes a nicely drawn, three-dimensional ambulance and a pair of tents. I copied and added a second of the smaller tents for visual balance. This Pellerin sheet includes both fronts and backs for many of the figures, and I used some of each to create a more active setting. Note again the inclusion of a Zouave soldier, here seen carrying some war trophies on his back.

The second diorama is titled, “Une Ambulance aux Avant-Postes,” or, “An Outpost Aid Station.” The publisher is not clearly marked on the sheet except to say it was published at 3, Rue de Rocroy, Paris. The three-dimensional stable resembles a Christmas crèche more than an operating room. Once more, there is a lot of activity in this small scene. A few Zouaves are seen again, but we also see some brown-uniformed British soldiers receiving aid from the French medical staff. Six brave nurses are seen carrying out their duties. If the dioramas in this thread are to be believed, the most important job a nurse could perform would be to find and carry clean water to the doctors and patients.

The subtitle of this thread reads, “The Care and Feeding of the Great War Soldier.” While I’ve shown a fair amount of care, I’ve only included one feeding model, “The Rolling Bakery Ovens on the Front,” the second diorama in this series. There is another Pellerin food-related model that I didn’t get a chance to build, but I’d like to include its sheet here. Below find, “Cuisines Roulantes: Halt-Déjeuner,” or, “Rolling Kitchens: Lunch Stop.” It shows French soldiers enjoying a hot meal, which appears to be either stew or a hearty soup. The horse is even joining in, munching on a mouthful of fodder. The relaxed Poilu are well behind the lines, as none of them is wearing his helmet. In fact, the only helmeted figure is the captured German soldier seen fielding some easy questions before being offered something to eat. I think this is the only German prisoner to appear in any of the dioramas so far.

Some bread has found its way into the encampment, but only a single bottle of wine can be seen. Not that there wasn't plenty of wine to be had, but it’s presumably kept out of sight for the sake of youngsters who might be playing with the soldier set.

So there you have it, two and a half Great War dioramas. Next week, we’ll visit an aerodrome.

Score and fold,

Thumb Dog

[MichaelS]

Another great post sir. Of course nothing can reproduce the stench and all the moaning of the wounded. I am of course excited about next weeks visit to an aerodrome but we absolutely must remember the side of the war you have depicted here.

[Padraig]

Some of the best education of the Great War I have found is right here. Thank you Thumb Dog. Keep it going, Sir!

[Thumb Dog]

Hi All,

And hi, MichaelS and Padraig, thanks for your encouraging words.


Even though the Wright brothers were the inventors of the first successful heavier-than-air flying machine, it wasn’t the Wrights who brought flying to the world, it was the French. Through a burst of experimentation and innovation, the French were preeminent in the earliest years of aeroplane development, and their mastery of flight put them in position to be a dominant force in the coming air war.

Today’s diorama is another offering from Pellerin, titled, “La 5me Arme: Parc d’Aviation,” or, “5th Weapon: Aviation Park.” It shows an early, wing-warping monoplane being readied for flight at a French airfield somewhere near the front. The pilots are seen in their distinctive uniforms as they talk strategy with their commanding officers. The wood and metal hangars are well maintained, as is the orderly and well-equipped airfield. All in all, the scene depicts a quiet morning at a French aerodrome.

But of course, the quiet was not to last. The airplane at the center of the diorama carries the very latest development in the brutal air war, namely, a machine gun that fires through the propeller’s arc. In the opening days of the Great War, opposing pilots would wave to each other as they passed in the air. Later, they would exchange pot-shots with hand guns. Ultimately, light machine guns were fitted to their aircraft, but always in an awkward position making them difficult to aim. The perfect place for the gun was directly in the pilot’s line of sight, firing its bullets through the spinning propeller. This of course presented a problem.

The French solution was to fit a steel wedge to the backside of each propeller blade so that any bullet that might strike it would be deflected. Developed by Morane-Saulnier, this innovation was first fielded by the great French aviator Roland Garros. The deflector plates were fitted to his MS Type L parasol monoplane and it was in this aircraft that he earned his inaugural air victory. Garros will be forever known as the first pilot to down an enemy aircraft while shooting through his propeller arc.

Named Le Vengeur, (The Avenger), the airplane depicted in the diorama was a real aircraft and was the first MS N Type to fly on the western front. Piloted by Sergent Eugène Gilbert, it too was fitted with bullet deflector plates. One of the first French aces, Gilbert’s flying career was typical of the early-war aviators. Pre-war, he had been a record-setting pilot and a competitor in international air races. Like so many bold pilots, he did not survive the war, being killed one hundred years ago on May 17, 1918 while testing a new Morane-Saulnier aircraft.

The paper model differs from the prototype in that it has a rear cockpit for an observer, something the lightweight N Type could never support. Interestingly, the original Pellerin sheet includes quite a bit of written information about the diorama. I cannot read the text from my scan, but it clearly mentions Gilbert and presumably some of his and his airplane’s exploits. This is a rare inclusion for a Pellerin model of the time.

The paper monoplane was an interesting build, as it is a hybrid, three-dimensional model. The fuselage is flat while all the other components represent a 3-D form. To give it strength and stability, most of the parts are made with three and four-ply 110lb. cardstock. The rigging is a bit heavy handed, but just as a modeler of a century ago would have done, I used the material I had on hand. Even though it is an unusual design, the old model still presents well. Deflector plates were not included.

The diorama’s colorful hangars proudly display the names of the squadron’s aircraft above their doors. If this was ever the practice in the Aéronautique Militaire, it didn’t last long. Throughout the war, loss rates for pilots and aircraft were high and it would have been a full-time job just to keep up with repainting the names on the hangars, not to mention the deleterious effect on morale.

While I employed my usual techniques in the diorama’s construction, I also enlarged the backdrop by about 30 percent. This helped to widen and deepen the base of the diorama enough to include all the model’s figures and materiel. This model is a departure from the usual Pellerin offering, as it includes a complex model as its centerpiece, something I would have liked to have seen more often.

Next week I’ll conclude this thread of Great War dioramas with the most intricate model of this series.

Score and fold,

Thumb Dog

[Vermin_King]

Very nicely done. In building it, is there really a reason that one side of the wings is separated into two pieces?

[Thumb Dog]

Hi All,

And hi, VK, and thanks.

As you know, sometimes the parts of these old models just don't seem to make any sense. That was true with the wing of Le Vengeur. Below find one of my altered scans that shows how I mirrored the single wing and applied it over the split-wing. I built a single-piece wing by gluing the two long wings onto a two-ply 110 lb. cardstock core, resulting in a stiff, four-ply wing. While still wet, I formed the airfoil with my fingers and left it to dry. Then I cut a slot through the already laminated fuselage and slid the wing through the slot.

I also mirrored the fuselage, too. The scan below shows the mirrored fuselage on the right side of the page with its lettering reversed and placed on the drawing. The angle of the lettering isn't quite right, but it is on the far side of the plane, so I can live with it.

Also note the numerous mirrored wheels, struts and props scattered around the drawing. I feel I get a better result when gluing mirrored parts rather than the sheet's hand-drawn, printed parts.

That's how I solved the problem of the split-wing, and once the problem is solved, I stop pondering what the designer meant in the first place. Sometimes is just doesn't make sense.

Score and fold,

Thumb Dog

[Vermin_King]

Makes sense ... how you did it.

[AnnMcmillin]

Wow, thank you! This series is amazing!

Now, if I could find this sort of dioramas/scenes of the American Civil War era...

Ann

[Thumb Dog]

Hi All,

And hi, VK and AnnMcmillin.

Ann, with your interest in the American Civil War, you may have found these already, but here if you haven't seen them, these may interest you. I found these soldiers at:

https://www.civilwaracademy.com/civil-war-uniform

Not any action poses to speak of, but well drawn and apparently accurate.

I brightened up the images before I sent them, the originals are available at the link above.

Score and fold,

Thumb Dog