Anyway, at precisely 11am on November 11, 1918 the guns that had roared for four years were silenced. And it was a dramatic silence. Regard:
Some, though, were trying to get a last chance at valor. Enter Henry Nicholas John Gunther. If you can't trust a man with two first names, how are you supposed to react to a man with four first names? That's neither here nor there.The power of silence:— BBC Breakfast (@BBCBreakfast) November 6, 2018
Using the real-life sound graph below The @I_W_M has recreated the ceasefire on the 11th of the 11th month 1918.#WWI #Armistice100 #WeWillRememberThem pic.twitter.com/rdjFWWECCq
Henry Gunther was born to children of German immigrants on June 6, 1895 in Baltimore. He was raised in Highlandtown, a predominantly Catholic German neighborhood east of the city in existence since 1866.
Because he was of German descent, Gunther did not immediately enlist in the Army when Wilson declared war in April 1917. He was a bank bookkeeper and had recently gotten engaged. Growing anti-German sentiment impacted Gunther's family. Henry Gunther's great-nephew, Joseph Long, described a whisper campaign:
We were told growing up that the local pharmacist accused my grandmother of being a German spy. The police took her in, but she was later released. It was a pretty tense time.
Five months later Gunther was drafted into the 313th Infantry Regiment, part of the 79th Infantry Division which saw major action in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive where the division earned the name of the "Cross of Lorraine" in honor of their defense of France in the latter stages of 1918.
Gunther wasn't enjoying himself. He wrote in a letter to his mother just how bad the conditions were on the front. As if that wasn't a terrible enough crime, Gunther also advised a friend to do anything he could to avoid getting drafted. Two penalties on one play - tough one.
See, at the outset of WW1 (for the Americans, the rest of Europe had been at war since 1914), Wilson said in the War Message to Congress that "war would require a redefinition of national loyalty." Wilson further explained that there were "millions of men and women of German birth and native sympathy who live amongst us. If there should be disloyalty, it will be dealt with a firm hand of repression."
Congress passed the Espionage (1917) and Sedition (1918) Acts.
The Espionage Act allowed postal officials to ban newspapers and magazines and to go through letters searching for dissenting opinions. The Sedition Act made it a federal offense to use "disloyal, profane, scurrilous, or abusive language" about the government, military, or the flag.
Bad time for Henry Gunther, precisely the type of person Wilson singled out in his War Address, to write his letter. He got demoted from sergeant to private.
Fast forward to November 11, 1918. The ceasefire was signed at 5:10am and scheduled to take effect at 11am. In the almost-six hours between the signing of the ceasefire and the actual ceasefire, historian Joseph Persico estimates that more than 10,000 casualties as the military leadership tried to get their last swipes in at the enemy.
Gunther's regiment, stationed at Ville-devant-Chaumont, between Verdun and Damvillers, was made aware of the ceasefire at 10:30am. They were held in place by a German machine gun nest. Knowing the war was but minutes away from ending, Gunther decided to try and get his rank back.
Henry Gunther picked up his rifle and charged the machine gun nest through thick fog. His fellow troops yelled for him to stop. The German machine gunners tried to wave him away. Gunther kept running with a fixed bayonet. Why?
The Baltimore Sun's James Cain talked to Gunther's buddies:
According to his comrades, Gunther brooded a great deal over his reduction in rank, and became obsessed with a determination to make good before his officers and fellow soldiers. Particularly he was worried because he thought himself suspected of being a German sympathizer. The regiment went into action a few days after he was reduced (demoted) and from the start he displayed the most unusual willingness to expose himself to all sorts of risks.
Cain:
Gunther still must have been fired by a desire to demonstrate, even at the last minute, that he was courageous and all-American. When the Germans saw him coming they waved at him and called out, in such broken English as they could, to go back, that the war was over. He paid no heed to them, however, and kept on firing a shot or two...After several vain efforts to make him turn back, the Germans turned their machine gun on him.
Henry Gunther's time of death: November 11, 1918. 10:59am. One minute before the ceasefire.
But Gunther's plan worked. He was posthumously returned to the rank of Sergeant. He was awarded a Divisional Citation for Gallantry in Action as well as the Distinguished Service Cross. VFW Post 1858 in East Baltimore (which no longer exists) was named after Henry Gunther. But was it necessary? Is it better to die in a literal last-minute charge to save your integrity, or survive and face scrutiny upon your return?
More Americans were killed on the morning of Armistice Day than were killed on D-Day. Baltimore Sun reporter Dan Rodricks has the great question:
Today, looking back through the lens of history, we might see Gunther's death differently - as foolish, unnecessary, ironic, like the 'Great War' itself.
