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| "They've seen our backs - let's show them our faces!" - Errol Flynn in "Rocky Mountain" (1950) |
What
is it about last stands that pull so strongly on our emotions? From the 300
Spartans at the Thermopylae pass to the 13-day siege at the Alamo to Custer at
the Little Bighorn to Operation Red Wings in Afghanistan, we experience a
visceral thrill in the sagas of a handful of defiant heroes who bravely
confront overwhelming odds. Motion pictures have, of course, fed the popular
imagination.
One
of the best is a little-seen gem, produced for the A&E network in 2001,
titled “The Lost Battalion,” based on a true account of an American division
that found itself cut off and surrounded by German forces during the Battle of
the Argonne Forest in the First World War.
In
early October 1918, nine companies of the United States Army 77th
Infantry Division, nicknamed “Statue of Liberty,” ventured from the trenches
into the wild woodland of northeastern France. Led by Charles W. Whittlesey (pictured below), a
34-year-old major unkindly referred to by his commanders as a “New York lawyer,”
the division was supposed to be part of a three-pronged offensive through
German lines. The battalion was told another American force was on its right
flank and a French force on its left, neither of which proved to be true.
After
a week of repelling devastating attacks and enduring tragic “friendly” artillery
fire, what remained of the division was finally relieved by reinforcements. Of
the roughly 550 men Major Whittlesey led into the Argonne Forest, 194 marched
out (197 had been killed, 150 were missing or taken prisoner). Although,
onscreen, Whittlesey finds the losses “unacceptable,” historically, the
battalion’s stance allowed American forces to break through the entire German
line and sent the enemy into retreat. Just over a month later, Germany signed
an armistice, veritably ending the Great War.
The
2001 film “The Lost Battalion” was directed by Russell Mulcahy, a highly
stylistic filmmaker known for his flashy camerawork, unique lighting, fast
cuts, and breakneck tracking shots. The Australian-born Mulcahy was one of the
most prolific music video directors of the 1980s, including The Buggles’ “Video
Killed the Radio Star” (the first music video aired on MTV), several videos for
Duran Duran, and 20 music videos for Elton John, all in all creating the visual
sensibilities he brought to his breakthrough motion picture, “Highlander”
(1986), starring Christopher Lambert and Sean Connery.
In
1998, director Steven Spielberg’s “Saving Private Ryan” not only inspired a
resurgence of interest in war movies, but the film’s use of desaturated colors,
handheld cameras and hyper-staccato photography had a profound, everlasting
influence on how filmmakers depicted combat, Russell Mulcahy included. As a
movie made for network television, “The Lost Battalion” could not, of course,
indulge in explicit representations of bloodshed and carnage, but Mulcahy’s
battle scenes still pack a jarring wallop.
Rick
Schroeder, who matured into a formidable actor with acclaimed performances in
the 1989 miniseries “Lonesome Dove” and in the late ‘90s TV series “NYPD Blue,”
paints a sincerely honest and emotionally stirring portrait of Major Whitllesey.
Once Major-General Robert Alexander (a pompous presence as characterized by
actor Michael Brandon) arrives with reinforcements, proclaiming “promotions and
commendations for everybody,” a weary, battered Whittlesey sizes up what’s left
of his division and tells the officer, “You’ll never know what they’ve been
through, or what they can and can’t do. They’re better than you, General.
They’re better than me. They always are.”
Major
Charles Whittlesey and Major George McMurtry, along with a Captain Nelson M.
Holderman, were awarded the Medal of Honor. In 1919, Major-General Robert Alexander,
Whittlesey, McMurtry, and a number of soldiers from the 77th
Infantry Division portrayed themselves in a silent film, also called “The Lost
Battalion.”
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| Major McMurtry, Major Whittlesey, and Captain William Cullen play themselves in the 1919 silent film "The Lost Battalion." |
On
July 2, 1919, Major-General Alexander hosted a reception in New York City for
survivors of the 77th. “The entertainment, given in the ballroom of
the Ritz-Carlton,” The New York Times reported, “included the first showing of
the screen reproduction of ‘The Lost Battalion.’
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| According to The New York Times, the 1919 picture "seemed to please the many notables who were present, with the thrills and smiles and tears of a retold story." |
The
similarly titled, and similarly themed, 1929 British silent picture “Lost
Patrol” was a fictional account of a small, haggard British patrol in the
Mesopotamia desert during World War I, unsure of their mission or whereabouts,
which desperately fends off attacks by Arab snipers, only to be picked off one
by one.
In
1934, director John Ford and executive producer Merian C. Cooper (producer and
director of 1933’s “King Kong”) remade “The Lost Patrol,” starring Victor
McLaglen and Boris Karloff. Plot elements from “The Lost Patrol” were rehashed
in countless movies. The script was the basis for the 1936 Soviet film “The
Thirteen,” set in the wasteland of a central Asian desert during the Basmachi
Revolt of Muslims against Russian Imperial and Soviet rule. “The Thirteen”
itself was adapted into “Sahara,” a 1943 World War II adventure, starring
Humphrey Bogart as a haggard tank commander separated from his unit in a
retreat from German forces (pictured below).
The
story was transplanted to the Pacific Theater that same year, 1943 (as the war
was still being fought on two hemispheres), in “Bataan,” In the early months of
1942, American forces and Filipino allies retreated from Manila to the
mountainous Bataan Peninsula for a futile last stand against the Japanese
invasion. Starving and suffering from malaria, the surviving defenders
surrendered and were forced on the infamous Bataan Death March.
Executive
producer Dore Schary called “Bataan” a remake of 1934’s “The Lost Patrol,” and
MGM paid $6500 for the right to use footage from John Ford’s film. Robert Taylor
starred in a cast that included Robert Walker (best known as the glib
psychopath in Hitchcock’s “Strangers on a Train”), in his first featured role,
and Desi Arnaz, as a Mexican-American National Guardsman. Although American
forces were still segregated, the rear guard includes an African-American
demolitions expert, played by Kenneth Spencer, an acclaimed singer and opera
bass-baritone. His presence in the movie stirred theaters in the South to
refuse showing it.
In
a 2006 review, critic Dennis Schwartz lauded “Bataan” as “an exciting
flag-waving Alamo-esque suicide mission World War II film.” Which brings us to
the 1977 film “Cross of Iron.” In this instance, instead of 260 Texians
besieged by the Mexican army 1800-strong, a dwindling platoon of German
soldiers on the Eastern Front of World War II is purposely abandoned by its
battalion in a retreat from overpowering Soviet forces.
James
Coburn, at age 49 (pictured above), may at first seem an unlikely casting choice for Sergeant
Steiner, the sardonic platoon leader who hates all officers and affirms, “I
believe God is a sadist but doesn’t even know it,” but the graying actor wears
the role like a glove. Confronted
by the new battalion commander, Captain Stransky, a rich (and homophobic)
Prussian aristocrat eager to attain the military decoration of the Iron Cross
at any cost, Steiner dismisses the martinet with a curt, “A man is generally
what he feels himself to be.”
Austrian-born
Maximillian Schell (pictured above), who won a Best Actor Oscar for his breakout Hollywood role
as German defense attorney Hans Rolfe in 1961’s “Judgment at Nuremberg,” is exquisitely effete as the
cowardly Prussian snob who betrays Steiner for not backing his deceitful bid
for the titular German medal.
James
Mason, as the world-weary German regimental commander, Colonel Brandt, and
David Warner, as the colonel’s chain-smoking, wine-soaked adjutant, Captain
Kiesel, play off each other sympathetically in an affectionate father-son
relationship (pictured below). “What will we do when we lose the war?” Brandt sighs, to which Kiesel
wryly replies, “Prepare for the next one.”
“Cross
of Iron” was the only war movie directed by Sam Peckinpah, a filmmaker
obviously known for westerns, among them “Ride the High Country,” “Major
Dundee,” “The Wild Bunch,” and “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid.” Although the
tired and alcohol-ravaged auteur had two pictures left in him, namely the
negligible “Convoy” and “The Osterman Weekend,” many have viewed “Cross of
Iron” as his most personal film.
Writer
Andrew Stimpson pointed out that Peckinpah’s movie is “about the fighting man,
the universal soldier.” According to Stimpson, these soldiers aren’t “the
clean-cut, handsome actors sporting serious expressions and fake thousand-yard
stares that marred ‘Saving Private Ryan’…Steiner’s platoon is a motley
collection of killers and survivors, combatants in a brutal campaign ingrained
with the filth and trauma of years of fighting.” Noteworthy among the muddied
and bloodied veterans is the unwashed, lice-infested Corporal Kruger, portrayed
by Klaus Lowitsch (best known to American filmgoers as General Valdimirov in
1982’s “Firefox,” starring Clint Eastwood).
In
the words of Andrew Stimpson, Sgt. Steiner’s “priorities are the men with whom
he exists and bleeds on a daily basis.” When it’s made clear how much leeway
the German brass has allowed Steiner, the sympathetic Col. Brandt is visibly
shaken when the sergeant brazenly declares, “Do you know how much I hate this
uniform and all it stands for?” Nonetheless, Brandt’s aide, Kiesel, who calls
Steiner “a myth,” insists, “Men like him are our last hope, and in that sense,
he is a truly dangerous man.”
“As
a war film,” Stimpson noted nearly 35 years after its release, “’Cross of Iron’
is authentic, violent, visceral and exciting. As an anti-war statement, it is
moving, politically astute and increasingly relevant as we find ourselves in an
era of ongoing conflict.”
At the time, "Cross of Iron's" competition in theaters was "A Bridge Too Far," director Richard Attenborough's all-star World War II extravaganza (featuring James Caan, Michael Caine, Sean Connery, Elliott Gould, Gene Hackman, Anthony Hopkins, Ryan O'Neal, Robert Redford, and Maximillian Schell) depicting the Allies' failed Operation Market Garden.
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| Sean Connery, Dirk Bogarde, Edward Fox, Ryan O'Neal, and Gene Hackman portray officers in "A Bridge Too Far." |
According
to German actor Vadim Glowna (Private Kern), Sam Peckinpah was drinking four
bottles of vodka or brandy every day of filming following three or four hours
of nightly sleep. He encouraged improvisation on the set and rewrote the script
as shooting progressed. Filmed in Yugoslavia, “Cross of Iron” was financed by
Wolf Hartwig, a onetime adult movie producer (and self-proclaimed former Panzer
tank commander). Apparently, the Yugoslavian crew, still sore over memories of
the Second World War, hated the Teutonic Hartwig and did whatever they could do
to sabotage the production.
“Throughout
all of his films,” Andrew Stimpson observed, Sam Peckinpah “explored his belief
that men revel in conflict, and…he expressed that only through violence can a
man truly protect what he holds to be valuable.”
Where “Cross of Iron” comes up short, particularly when held up beside 2001’s “The Lost Battalion,” is the often-philosophical dialogue, lofty observations rarely encountered in the everyday conversation of entrenched foot soldiers. Upon releasing a captured Russian boy-soldier, Steiner tirelessly orates, “It’s all an accident of hands – mine, others – all without mind, one extreme to another, and neither works, nor will ever. And we stand in the middle, in no man’s land, you and I.” Come on, who really speaks like that?
Where “Cross of Iron” comes up short, particularly when held up beside 2001’s “The Lost Battalion,” is the often-philosophical dialogue, lofty observations rarely encountered in the everyday conversation of entrenched foot soldiers. Upon releasing a captured Russian boy-soldier, Steiner tirelessly orates, “It’s all an accident of hands – mine, others – all without mind, one extreme to another, and neither works, nor will ever. And we stand in the middle, in no man’s land, you and I.” Come on, who really speaks like that?
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| Other doddering actors in "Breakthrough" include Robert Mitchum, Rod Steiger, and Curt Jurgens. |
Bringing
this account back full circle to the true story of Major Charles W.
Whittlesey, the decorated hero of the Lost Battalion served as a pallbearer for
the burial of the first Unknown Soldier at Arlington Cemetery in November 1921.
A few days later, he booked passage on a ship from New York to Havana. On
November 26, the first night out of New York, after dining with the captain,
Whittlesey, purportedly in good spirits, said he was retiring for the evening.
He was never seen again.
Before
departing New York, Whittlesey prepared a will, leaving his property to his
mother. In his stateroom on the ship, he had left a note for the captain with
instructions for the disposition of his baggage.
In
his memorial address at the services for Major Charles W. Whittlesey, Colonel
A.K. Averill said, “While at first we were stunned and could hardly credit the
news, yet the more I think this case over the more firmly I am convinced that
his death was in reality a battle casualty and that he met his end as much in
the line of duty as if he had fallen by a German bullet…The scars of conflict
or the wounds of battle are not always of the flesh.”
“His
last answer to the call of duty was on November 11, 1921, when,
with the other Medal of Honor men of the regiment…he attended the final
ceremonies at Arlington for the Unknown Soldier. I think we can all see him standing
there with these memories of the suffering and the pain of war surging through
his mind. We know he suffered until at last that great heart broke.”
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| Survivors of the fabled Lost Battalion gather for a reunion on September 24, 1939. |
























1 comment:
Having seen both "A Bridge Too Far" and "Cross of Iron" in theaters when they came out, I'm sorry to say that I remember next to nothing about either of them. Except I remember being vaguely disappointed in both.
Not that I expected the outcomes of the movies to be different (though that would have been a surprise), just that there was a general sadness about both pictures. I guess sadness was the intent.
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