Tag: World War I

Brutal Views

A wooden cross rises from churned earth, the inscription stark against weathered wood. A familiar image of a striking handmade monument to the son of a president who fell from the sky over France.

This photograph, captured by a U.S. Signal Corps photographer known only by the initials P.E.L., embodies the US vision of the first World War carefully curated by military officials. While this image evokes sacrifice, honor, and patriotism, the ones that follow emphasize air power and the ground fight.

The Signal Corps photographers worked with clear directives. Their images showcased military capacity and impact: a German observation balloon in flames over Verdun, captured enemy aircraft, and troops dug into the battlefield. These photos celebrated American military achievements while maintaining a safe emotional distance from war’s realities. They framed the conflict as a grand, heroic endeavor of machines and strategy, and no bodies.

Soldier photography told different stories.

World War I marked a pivotal shift in war photography. The conflict erupted during the democratization of the camera, when Kodak’s marketing promise—You press the button, we do the rest—had placed photography in ordinary hands. For the first time, soldiers carried their own cameras to the front. They documented their experiences without oversight, censorship, or propaganda objectives.

The images captured by troops and printed later at studios like Renfro & Jensen in Belmont, Arkansas reveal a more intimate perspective—the human cost of conflict. German officers’ quarters reduced to rubble by American artillery. The harsh conditions of a foxhole or a machine gun post.

These images weren’t composed for newspaper spreads or government reports. They were personal souvenirs, visual evidence of experiences too enormous to capture in words alone. They were captured on a new-fangled camera and carried home as silent witness.

Belmont, Arkansas transformed virtually overnight in 1917 from a quiet rural community into a bustling military training center. Soldiers flooded the region, bringing with them not just their uniforms and rifles, but their cameras. The town experienced a true boomtown effect as businesses sprang up to serve the influx of military personnel. Among these enterprises, the Renfro & Jensen photography studio established itself as a crucial link between soldiers’ experiences and their communication home.

Then, as demobilization began in 1918, returning soldiers sought ways to share or quietly remember what they had witnessed. Renfro & Jensen became unwitting archivists. They must have developed and printed thousands of soldier photographs—images far more frank and direct than anything appearing in newspapers or government publications. The studio workers were likely among the first civilians to confront warfare through this new technology. Each day, they processed images showing destruction, military achievements, and occasionally, the graphic aftermath of combat. Their commercial service inadvertently preserved a crucial alternative visual history of the conflict.

Two European-produced photographic postcards further document the war. These images, printed on distinctive European paper stock, emerged from a continent already numbed by years of destruction.

Another sixteen images — the most harrowing in the collection — can’t be shown here. The ethical boundaries of war photography persist today. What images should be shielded from casual viewing, and which realities deserve documentation regardless of their power to disturb?

Major institutional collections house millions of WWI photographs. The National Archives holds the largest repository of World War I material in the United States, with over 110,000 photographs digitized from two primary series: the American Unofficial Collection of World War I Photographs and the Photographs of American Military Activities. The Library of Congress maintains extensive collections, including the American National Red Cross Collection with over 18,000 digitized negatives showing wartime activities.

Beyond these institutional repositories exists a vibrant world of private collectors who often hold the most provocative and unfiltered images. These private collections sometimes reveal perspectives absent from official archives. Photographer Carl De Keyzer discovered approximately 10,000 archival glass plate and celluloid negatives from WWI scattered across Europe, many in private hands. From these, he selected 100 to reproduce in stunning detail, revealing aspects of the conflict previously unseen in such clarity. Some of the most compelling battlefield imagery exists in small personal collections—albums like this one that have been kept by families of veterans, passed down through generations, their contents rarely exhibited publicly.

The grave of Lieutenant Quentin Roosevelt is quite enough for many. It symbolizes loss while sparing us its visceral reality. But the full photographic record of the conflict includes truly heinous realities—corpses tangled in barbed wire, faces distorted by gas, bodies rendered unrecognizable by artillery.

While official photographers were tasked to frame narratives that supported war efforts, some soldier photographers refused to turn a blind eye. They captured what they witnessed, creating very personal views that continues to challenge our understanding of history. Their lenses documented what words alone could never convey—the irredeemable human cost of modern warfare.

Coblenz Continued

When I connected with European researchers writing a book on the married Swedish/German photographers, Lindstedt and Zimmermann, we discovered that last week’s trove of real photo postcards is quite rare. Even better, we found more.

New Discoveries from a Lost Archive

Last week’s essay examined the American occupation of Coblenz, a unique period of military history, through the photographic lens of Lindstedt & Zimmermann. The Lindstedt & Zimmermann studio was destroyed during Allied bombing in World War II, decimating their archive and rendering the surviving examples of their work as uncommon historical artifacts.

The exchange with the research team prompted another search through our postcard collection resulting in the discovery of 25 additional images. Most can be attributed to Lindstedt & Zimmermann based on stylistic elements, materials and subject matter. Some bear the mark of other photographers including Paul Stein, another Coblenz studio. Ten photographs document the catastrophic flood of the Rhine in January 1920 – images that likely haven’t been seen in a century.

The Great Flood of January 1920

The January 1920 flood represented one of the most significant natural disasters to impact the American occupation forces during their tenure in Germany. The handwritten note on one postcard reveals both the severity of the flood and its impact on the American presence. This mixed German-English description captures the cross-cultural nature of the occupation.

“Der Rhein hat über its banks geflowed und Uncle Sam’s autos gdamaged. The river is the highest in over a hundred years, almost beyond my memory!”

The photographs show numerous small boats navigating the water and automobiles partially submerged in floodwaters, with bridges and buildings visible in the background. These images provide rare documentation of a significant environmental event that temporarily disrupted occupation activities and required adaptation by both American forces and local residents.

Harlem Hellfighters

This very rare view shows what appears to be members of an African American regimental band with their instruments at Romagne, France. Black men served in segregated units during World War I, with regiments such as the 369th Infantry (the “Harlem Hellfighters”) earning recognition for their service. Their regimental bands played an important cultural role, introducing European audiences to American jazz and ragtime music. These musical ambassadors created cultural connections that transcended the military context of their presence. The inclusion of this photograph adds an important dimension to our understanding of the American military presence in post-war Europe, highlighting the contributions of African American servicemen whose stories have been marginalized in historical accounts.

YMCA Women

The expanded collection also includes two formal portraits of women in YMCA uniform, complete with the organization’s distinctive triangular insignia on hat and lapel. Sometimes called Y girls, female YMCA workers provided essential services for American soldiers stationed far from home. They operated canteens, organized recreational activities, offered educational programs, and provided a connection to American civilian life that helped maintain morale during the occupation period.

The YMCA was among the few organizations that deployed American women to work directly with troops overseas during this era. These women volunteers typically came from educated, middle or upper-class backgrounds and represented an early example of American women engaging in international service work. Their presence added a civilian dimension to the occupation and helped create environments where American soldiers could productively spend their off-duty hours.

Military Pageantry and Daily Operations

One striking photograph shows the 76th Field Artillery Regiment arranged in a “living insignia” formation, with soldiers positioned to create the unit’s distinctive diagonal striped insignia, surrounded by artillery pieces. This type of military display was meant to demonstrate American capacity while building unit cohesion and pride, and perhaps avert a little boredom.

In contrast to these ceremonial arrangements, other photographs document the practical transportation and logistical elements that supported daily operations. An image of a young driver with his heavy-duty truck along what appears to be the Rhine riverbank represents the essential supply operations that maintained the American presence. The vehicle’s utilitarian design with solid rubber tires, wooden spoke wheels, and large cargo bed illustrates the practical equipment used to transport supplies, equipment, and personnel throughout the occupation zone.

French Military Presence

The next image shows a group portrait of four French soldiers in their distinctive uniforms. Easily identified by their characteristic “Adrian” helmets with the prominent crest ridge along the top and the horizon blue (bleu horizon) uniform that became emblematic of French forces during World War I, these men represent the broader Allied presence in post-war Germany.

France maintained the largest occupation zone in the Rhineland, reflecting their particular security concerns regarding Germany. French forces occupied territories including Mainz, while American forces centered on Coblenz and British forces on Cologne. Later, French forces took over the Coblenz occupation.

The portrait format was typical of military mementos during this era, allowing soldiers to document their service and send images to family members. The survival of any images at all is due to this distribution by soldiers to their home countries.

Beyond Coblenz

Not all images in the collection were taken in Coblenz itself. One photograph shows American personnel in a touring car filled with passengers in what may be the French Riviera, identifiable by its distinctive palm trees and Mediterranean architecture. Dating to 1921-1923 based on the automobile’s style, this photograph represents the recreational opportunities available to some American personnel during leave periods from their occupation duties.

Europe allowed for cultural and recreational experiences that would have been impossible for most Americans of this era. For many young Americans serving in the occupation forces, this European assignment represented their first—and perhaps only—opportunity to experience the wider world beyond their home communities.

Visual Legacies

The survival of these photographs, particularly those documenting the 1920 flood, represents a remarkable preservation of visual history that might otherwise have been lost entirely. With the bombing of the Lindstedt & Zimmermann studio during World War II, the unique nature of real photo postcards, and the general fragility of materials from this era, each surviving image offers a rare window into this formative period in world relations.

Karl and Änne Zimmermann’s work, along with that of contemporaries like Paul Stein, provides an invaluable visual chronicle of the first American occupation of European territory—a precedent for the much larger American military presence that would emerge in Europe after World War II. Their photographs capture not just military operations and formal events but the daily reality of cross-cultural interaction between Americans, French, and Germans during this unique historical moment and place.

Lens on Coblenz, 1918

A Swedish-German photography team documented America’s occupation in Coblenz after World War I.

Coblenz (now Koblenz), situated strategically at the confluence of the Rhine and Moselle rivers in Germany, has experienced numerous military occupations throughout its long history. The city’s geographic importance as a crossing point and defensive position made it a coveted location for military powers across the centuries.

Dating back to Roman times, when it was known as Confluentes, the settlement served as a military outpost securing Rome’s frontier. Through medieval and early modern periods, Coblenz changed hands repeatedly during Europe’s dynastic conflicts. However, the most significant pre-20th century occupation came during the French Revolutionary Wars and Napoleonic era (1794-1814), when French forces controlled the city for nearly two decades, incorporating it into the French First Empire.

After Napoleon’s defeat, the 1815 Congress of Vienna assigned Coblenz to Prussia. The Prussians recognized its strategic value and constructed the massive Fortress Ehrenbreitstein on the east bank of the Rhine, transforming the area into one of Europe’s strongest defensive positions. This began a century of Prussian, and later German, control that would last until the end of World War I.

US Occupation: December 1918

The American occupation of Coblenz emerged from the terms of the Armistice that ended World War I on November 11, 1918. The agreement stipulated that Allied forces would occupy the Rhineland, with the region divided into three primary zones: American, British, and French. This occupation was designed to ensure German compliance with armistice terms and provide leverage during peace negotiations.

On December 13, 1918, elements of the U.S. Army’s Third Army, commanded by Major General Joseph T. Dickman, crossed the Rhine and officially began the occupation of Coblenz and its surrounding area. By December 17, the American forces had fully established their headquarters in the city, with approximately 240,000 troops in the region, though this number would decrease significantly over time.

Major General Henry T. Allen later replaced Dickman as commander in July 1919, overseeing the majority of the occupation until American withdrawal in 1923.

Unlike France, which had suffered repeated German invasions and maintained historical animosities, American forces approached the occupation with less punitive attitudes. This pragmatic approach, combined with the economic resources American soldiers brought to the local economy, created a relatively stable, though still complex, occupation environment.

A Photographic Partnership

The American occupation of Coblenz coincided with a pivotal period in photographic history, and two photographers were perfectly positioned to document this unprecedented moment: Anna Victoria “Änne” Lindstedt and her husband Karl Zimmermann. By 1918, photography had evolved significantly from its mid-19th century origins, but still required considerable technical expertise. German and Swedish photography had developed along somewhat different paths.

Anna’s photographic journey began far from Germany, in southern Sweden. Born in 1883 in Hörby, Sweden, she was the daughter of J.M. Lindstedt, an established Swedish photographer. Photography in late 19th century Scandinavia was a growing professional field, with Swedish photographers making significant technical advancements. Anna grew up immersed in this environment, learning technical skills in her father’s studio during a period when photography was transitioning from a purely chemical process to a more refined art form. This Swedish background gave her a distinct perspective and technical foundation that would later influence her work in Germany. By the early 1900s, Anna had established her own photography studio in Lund, demonstrating her independence in a field still dominated by men.

Karl Zimmermann established a photography studio in Diez an der Lahn, Germany and was operating in 1914, at the outbreak of World War I. He had developed a reputation for documenting local events and creating portraits, building technical expertise during a period when German photography was gaining international recognition for its precision and artistic innovation.

The couple became engaged in 1916, in the midst of World War I. After the war ended, they merged their photography businesses in Coblenz, recognizing the unique historic and commercial opportunity presented by the American occupation.

The real photo postcard (RPPC) format that Lindstedt and Zimmermann utilized had emerged in the early 1900s, enabled by the development of the postcard backing paper with preprinted postage markings. These allowed photographers to create small edition prints that could be sold commercially and easily mailed.

YMCA in the American Occupation

The Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) played a crucial role in supporting American troops during the Coblenz occupation. Within weeks of the American arrival, the YMCA established facilities throughout the occupation zone, with their main headquarters in Coblenz itself.

The YMCA’s presence in military zones had been established during the war, but the occupation presented new challenges. Rather than serving troops in active combat, the organization now needed to address the morale and welfare needs of an occupation force facing potential boredom and disciplinary challenges.

By 1920, the YMCA operated approximately 20 centers throughout the American zone. These facilities provided alternatives to less supervised entertainment, offering recreational spaces, reading rooms, educational programs, religious services, and organized athletics. The organization also facilitated cultural exchanges, including German language classes that helped improve relations between American troops and local residents.

YMCA centers became important social hubs for American forces, with thousands of soldiers visiting these facilities daily. The centers also employed a combination of American YMCA staff and local German civilians, creating a rare space for cultural integration during the occupation.

Soldiers’ Experiences

While the broad historical narrative of the American occupation focuses on military units and official policies, individual soldiers’ experiences varied widely. Some troops formed positive relationships with German civilians, while others remained isolated within American enclaves. Some embraced the opportunity to explore European culture; others counted days until their return home.

The convenience of real photo postcards can be a barrier in historical research. Only some cards were labeled with names of men — Charles E. Wilson Jr., Norman Page, and Donald Harris pictured here — who were among the thousands of American soldiers who had their portraits made in Coblenz during this period. Bethel Tatum appears in multiple images, as does another  anonymous soldier. George Purcell’s military record confirms he received a silver medal for gallantry in action during World War I before serving in the occupation force.

One of the more curious connections involves 328 Chauncey Street in Brooklyn, New York, inscribed as the address for Charles Thomas, who appears in two photos. The same location later became famous as Jackie Gleason’s boyhood home and the fictional address in “The Honeymooners”. There are no known family connections, but this is how rumors begin. Soldier Charles Thomas bears an uncanny resemblance to the comedian star.

Olympic Connections

Pierre de Coubertin, founder of the modern Olympic movement, maintained a significant interest in post-war athletic events, including those organized by military forces. As president of the International Olympic Committee until 1925, he worked actively to revive international sporting competitions after the war’s disruption. He may have visited Coblenz on a tour of the Inter-Allied Games in the summer of 1919.

The 1920 Summer Olympics in Antwerp, Belgium—the first Games held after World War I—represented a significant milestone in de Coubertin’s efforts. Karl Zimmermann, who worked for both the US and French forces, may have traveled to Antwerp, and even photographed de Coubertin and General Pershing. 

By 1928, Karl’s declining health forced changes to their business operations. Änne became managing director in 1930 and changed the business name to Welt-Foto-Koblenz, perhaps an attempt to broaden their commercial appeal and provide delicate cover for husband’s ailments. Karl’s mental health continued to deteriorate, ending his photojournalistic work by 1934. After his death in 1943 at the Hausen/Wied sanatorium, Änne managed to preserve aspects of their photographic legacy through the war years.

Änne’s post-war life included time between Koblenz and her native Sweden, maintaining connections to both the place where their most significant work was created and her homeland. She died on November 11, 1962, and was buried in the new cemetery in Åhus, Sweden, bringing her remarkable photographic journey full circle.

A Photographic Legacy

The Lindstedt and Zimmermann postcards documenting the American occupation of Coblenz represent an important visual historical record of this significant period. These images provide insight into a unique moment when American forces first occupied European soil—a preview of the much larger American military presence that would emerge in Europe after World War II.

Their work serves multiple historical functions: documenting military operations, capturing cultural exchanges, preserving individual experiences, and recording the physical environment of occupied Coblenz. This rare visual archive helps us understand what happened during the occupation, and how daily life unfolded.

Through the combined Swedish-German lens of Lindstedt and Zimmermann, we gain a more nuanced understanding of this complex chapter in American-European relations and the early development of American overseas military presence that would shape the 20th century.

Read more about photographers Karl and Anna Zimmermann at Lindstedt und Zimmermann.

Precipice of Peace: Postcards from 1920 Antwerp Olympics

Sometimes a single image can capture the essence of an era. Such is the case with an extraordinary postcard, one of 18 rare images from the 1920 Antwerp Olympics. 

At first glance, it might seem like just another black-and-white snapshot of a bygone event. But look closer, and you’ll find yourself face to face with influential figures of the early 20th century. General John J. Pershing, commander of the American Expeditionary Forces during World War I, is captured in a crisp military salute. Baron Pierre de Coubertin, the father of the modern Olympic movement, instantly recognizable by his distinctive mustache.

This single frame tells a story far greater than the sum of its parts. Shot by an unknown photographer and made into a real photo postcard by Thomas Illingworth & Co., it shows a world emerging from the shadows of war and pandemic. 

A week earlier, US women won the vote and swimmer Ethelda Bleibtrey was about to bring home gold. The greats of the era – Duke Kahanamoku, Suzanne Lenglen, Paavo Nurmi, Frank Foss, and 72-year old Oscar Swahn – embodied the world’s tenuous progress through their excellence and effort in sport.

The accompanying 17 photos show the Parade of Athletes, including Australia, Belgium, Canada, Denmark, Egypt, France, Greece, Italy, Japan, Norway, South Africa, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, and USA. Each delegation presented themselves to the Belgian King, sometimes with a wave or salute.

Window into 1920

Before we dive into the significance of the individuals captured in this image, let’s consider the medium itself. In 1920, the postcard was more than just a souvenir; it was a vital means of communication and a bearer of visual stories in a pre-digital age.

The postcards we’re examining used light-sensitive paper, a recently available technology in the marketplace. In this case, the Horse Shoe Brand from Thomas Illingworth & Co. – tells us exactly who produced the photographic prints directly from negatives. Each card, despite being a reproduction, was essentially a unique photograph, carrying subtle variations in exposure and tone that mass-printed cards could never match.

The quality of these postcards was remarkable for their time. The ability to clearly discern General Pershing’s salute and the details of de Coubertin’s mustache over a century later is a testament to the craftsmanship involved in their production. It’s also a stroke of luck for historians, providing us with invaluable visual evidence of this pivotal moment in Olympic history.

A General’s Salute: More Than a Gesture

The presence of General John J. Pershing at the 1920 Antwerp Olympics, captured mid-salute, is laden with symbolism. Just two years earlier, Pershing had been commanding millions of troops in the bloody fields of Europe. Now, here he was, saluting not to the drums of war, but to the peaceful competition of nations. The crowd was thrilled when Belgian soldiers released doves of peace to open the ceremonies.

Pershing’s salute was a powerful endorsement of the Olympic movement’s ideals, and a gesture of solidarity to the King of Belgium, who he is facing in the stands. It’s a military man’s acknowledgement that the battlefield is not the only place where nations can meet. The attendance of the two military commanders lent gravitas to the event, underlining the Games’ importance in post-war international relations.

Moreover, Pershing’s attendance highlighted the changing role of the United States on the world stage. The U.S. had emerged from World War I as a major global power, and Pershing’s presence at the Olympics signified America’s commitment to engaging with the international community not just through politics and economics, but through culture and sport as well.

Man Behind the Mustache: Pierre de Coubertin

Baron Pierre de Coubertin is easily identified in the front row by his long and gray mustache. The visionary behind the revival of the Olympic Games must have felt pride and vindication at this moment. For de Coubertin, whose Olympic ideal centered on promoting international understanding and peace through sport, the successful staging of the Antwerp Games was nothing short of a triumph.

The 1920 Antwerp Olympics were the first Games held after the cancellation of the 1916 Olympics due to World War I. The year prior, the Inter-Allied Games were hosted in France, mostly to keep WWI troops occupied in the sudden transition out of war. The fact that de Coubertin stands alongside Pershing, a military leader, in this peaceful setting, perfectly encapsulates the Olympic dream of turning swords into javelins, conflict into friendly competition.

De Coubertin’s presence also connects the ancient Olympic tradition with the modern era. Under his direction, the iconic Olympic rings and flag were introduced in 1920, along with other modernizations in sport, gear, and rules of the games. There were limitations, too, especially related to the post-war economy. Top athletes went unchallenged in some categories when other countries could not afford to compete. 

The choice of Antwerp as the host city was deeply significant. Belgium had suffered tremendously during World War I, with much of the country occupied and its people enduring great hardships. Hosting the Olympics was a statement of Belgium’s resilience and the international community’s support for its recovery. The stadium was more than just a sporting venue; it was a symbol of reconstruction and hope. Repurposed from the city’s hometown venue, it was transformed on short notice into the Olympisch Stadion.

The selection of Antwerp as host was not just a gesture of respect for the Olympic movement, but also an acknowledgment of Belgium’s sacrifices and its determination to rebuild. In the end, though, the city lost money on the Games due to low attendance.

Photo Paper to Digital Pixels: The Evolution of Olympic Memories

As we examine this postcard set today, we’re struck by how much has changed in the way we capture and share moments of global significance. The photographer who snapped this image must have thought carefully about each shot, knowing that film and processing were expensive and opportunities fleeting.

Today, a similar scene would be captured by thousands of smartphone cameras, instantly shared across the globe. The modern Olympic Games are documented in minute detail, with high-definition video capturing every bead of sweat and every emotional reaction.

Yet, there’s something special about this centenarian postcard. Its physical nature, the silver halide crystals that hold the image fast, give it a permanence that our digital memories often lack. It’s a tangible connection to a pivotal moment in history, one that we can hold and examine closely. It’s also remarkably detailed, given the age and technology at hand.

In our era of information overload, where countless images flood our screens daily, the rarity of this postcard becomes even more significant. While we don’t know exactly how many of these postcards were produced – estimates range from several hundred to a few thousand – we know that most have been lost to time.

Each surviving postcard is now a valuable historical artifact. They appear occasionally at auctions, eagerly sought after by collectors who understand their significance. But beyond their monetary value, these postcards are treasure troves of historical information.

The T.I.C. logo and the small ‘x’ between POST and CARD on the back, for instance, tell us not just who made the paper, but in what year. This level of detail allows historians to verify the authenticity of Olympic memorabilia and build a more detailed understanding of how the games were documented.

Finding Our Photographer

Who was the photographer? The mystery unraveled makes these rare images all the more interesting. Our research landed at the website for the official Olympic history, and a brief snippet of film from the 1920 opening ceremonies. In it we see a gaggle of photographers covering the proceedings. As the camera focuses, a sole figure breaks from the crowd and raises his camera for the perfect shot. The Denmark delegation is rounding the oval path and heading toward the risers. It’s the exact image we see in the postcard collection. Thrilling to have the photographic evidence, and travel through time to witness the moment!

Echoes Across Time

Seeing these images today, we can’t help but draw parallels between their time and ours. The world of 1920 was recovering from a pandemic and rebuilding after a major global conflict. The push for civil liberties was gaining strength in the U.S. and around the world. Today, we too are emerging from a global health crisis, facing international tensions, grappling with rapid technological change, and defending democracy.

The image of Pershing and de Coubertin, saluting the host country in an Olympic stadium, reminds us of the power of sport to bring people together. It shows us a world recovering after unimaginable hardship, finding unity in athletic achievement.

The Olympic Games continue to serve as a symbol of international cooperation and human achievement. As we look to the Olympics today, we might wonder: what form will our memories take? Will our digital images have the staying power of these centenarian postcards?

In an age where our memories are increasingly digital and ephemeral, these physical postcards serve as a poignant reminder of the value of tangible history. They urge us to consider how we document our own pivotal moments, and what legacy we will leave for future generations to discover. As we look to the future, may we carry forward the spirit of resilience, unity, and hope that these extraordinary images so powerfully illustrate.