Upon the signing of the Armistice at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month 1918, the lives of New Zealanders both home and abroad changed forever. After a devastating conflict involving the service of more than 100,000 New Zealand men and women, people longed for a reprieve from the fighting. That day finally came at 9am on Tuesday 12 November as Prime Minister William Massey broadcast the news of an Armistice, an agreement to temporarily cease the conflict, from the country’s post and telegraph offices. In Wellington, signal guns went off at 9am but those lacking their own artillery made do with gasworks sirens, as in Masterton, or by watching the post office flagstaff in Rakaia.^[1]

The news spread quickly, and a holiday was declared, though immediate peace celebrations were ‘dampened’ by the ongoing flu epidemic. The Heath Department requested them all to be in the open air because of transmissibility, and many plans were cancelled or postponed depending on how hard hit each region was, making it “quite impossible to have any uniformity throughout the Dominion."^[2] Regardless, processions, both spontaneous and official, did erupt all around the country and the days following the Armistice were marked by speeches, concerts, and services. These events were later dwarfed by the public jubilation of June 1919 when the official end of the war was announced with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. Unhindered by the pandemic, New Zealand was able to truly appreciate the end of the devastating violence of World War I (WWI) and begin to move forward. Click here to read Glyn Harper’s article on the Treaty of Versailles which goes into greater detail.

While the Armistice was not an official end to the conflict, it did mark a vital turning point. For the approximately 52,000 New Zealand service personnel overseas, the news meant leaving behind muddy trenches and starting a long journey back home.^[3] This article focuses on the story of one man, William Osborne Liggins, as he details his trek from France to the Rhine in the months following the Armistice. William’s story reminds us that despite the dawn of peace, the Armistice was merely the beginning of a new chapter for many of our service personnel who had yet to make it back to New Zealand shores. 

William Osborne Liggins

William Osborne Liggins was a career soldier born on the 8^th June 1879 in Leicestershire, England. Prior to his enlistment in the New Zealand Expeditionary Force in June 1917, William served with the 5^th Leicester Royal Artillery and had been discharged at his own request after 12 years of service. After moving to New Zealand in 1913 he had served as a Sergeant Major in Palmerston North, and his military personnel file contained a letter from his commanding Colonel noting that “he has discharged his duties exceedingly well and is well reported on by all Officers.” By 1917, William was 37 and had married Agnes Amy Hart two years prior. Like many other soldiers at the time, William symbolised both his marriage and his ongoing commitment to the military with two tattoos, a ring on his left middle finger and an anchor on his left forearm.

William was posted to the 34^th New Zealand Field Artillery upon enlistment, and he retained his rank of Temporary Sergeant from his time in the New Zealand Forces prior to WWI. By early 1918, William had moved first to the 36^th New Zealand Field Artillery and then to the 37^th, and had embarked for London upon RMS Balmoral Castle. After disembarking, William was stationed in the French camp Etaples and, after many months of active service, he was promoted to Sergeant. Not long after his promotion, the Armistice was signed and William found himself eager to return to New Zealand after 1 year and 91 days of active service in Europe.

Homeward Bound

To learn more about troopship magazines, read this article by Jacqueline Snee.

From France to the Rhine

William’s article, From France to the Rhine: With the NZFA, begins right after the announcement of Armistice as he and his fellow troops “returned to the shell-shattered town of Quivey.” After several days of well-earned rest, they were inspected by their popular Commander Royal Artillery (CRA.), General Johnston, who told them that the New Zealand Division had been honoured by their inclusion in the Army of Occupation of the Rhine. William recalled that many men were “not too pleased” about the prospect of going to Germany, but upon learning the news that those who did not go would be employed in France filling up shell holes, “we were more or less inclined to think that the “trek” through to Cologne would be more preferable after all.”

They left on the morning of 28^th November 1918, passing through Solesmes and Escarmaine before halting at Capelle for the night. Here they slept in a huge, old barn with plenty of straw and, most importantly, a roof over their heads to protect them against the heavy rain which started overnight. Marching was postponed the next day on account of the weather, but 30 November saw them off again through Beaudigne and the outskirts of Le Quesnoy. William recalled that “only a few weeks ago we were fighting our way through” the same landscape they now traversed without fear. Ignoring the strangeness of this situation, William’s primary focus was the “cold and miserable” weather as the rain refused to relent in the coming days. The troops kept their spirits high with songs and hot dinners, though upon reaching Longueville, Hautmont on 3^rd December, William and three other men found themselves lucky enough to be hosted at the home of a woman who supplied hot coffee, a nice fire, and even a bed. Unfortunately, “this was too much for us” and none of the men got much sleep, swearing “we ought to have slept on the floor.”

Passing through the countryside, William wrote of hundreds of abandoned Germany railway tracks and ammunition trucks blown to pieces. These remnants of the recent conflict posed a harsh contrast to the French farming towns he encountered, untouched by “the ravages of war” and therefore undisturbed by the news of Armistice. When the troops crossed the border to Belgium and marched onwards to Lobbes they finally encountered modern comforts including huge barges and electric trams, causing William to proclaim that they had reached “civilisation once more.” As they moved into the cities, crowds of people formed to watch their journey and William described huge displays of flags and buntings suspended above the troops while school children lined the roads cheering “Vive la Nouvelle Zealande.” William’s time in Belgium was marked by this exceptional hospitality and “at each halt the women would come out with small basins of coffee.”

Despite these kind interactions, William’s writing was damped by the persistent rain and freezing conditions which continued into mid-December. The landscape shifted from pastures and farms into coal mines and stone quarries as the troops progressed through the valley of the Meuse. William was awed by the “grand rugged scenery”: slopey, pine covered hills descended to the river, where the broken remains of German lorries, wagons, ambulances, and workshops littered the banks. As they trekked onwards to the City of Liege, William sometimes caught glimpses of the New Zealand Infantry marching to his left and the troops finally made contact on the 18^th December. “It was a rare meeting of the clans, everybody running across someone they knew.”

By the 20^th December William and his comrades had crossed the border into Germany, halting for two days at a small town in Rotgen. William again noted the hospitality of the civilians they encountered as he found himself staying with a German farmer who “much to our surprise, made us very comfortable.” The man told William “how glad he was that it was all over,” and shared that he had fought alongside his son who had later been discharged after sustaining terrible wounds. They bonded over the accordion and the two nights spent there were enlivened with music.

Christmas Eve found William in Kaspen, staying at a large school close to the town square. William remembers that “Rhine wine flowed freely” and a very timely arrival of English mail “saved most of us from dining altogether on stew.” However, the festive season did not slow their progress and by Boxing Day the troops were on the outskirts of Cologne. William recalls how, due to the national holiday, “hundreds of people thronged the streets to see us march through the city, along the Hoenzollen Strasse and over the Hoenzollen Bridge.” As William’s cold and miserable trek through Europe came to an end, he had to ask himself “what did the Germans think of us as we rode triumphantly through the city in all our war paint dirty, draggled, muddy, out at the knees and elbows?”

Life after Europe

The consequences of the Armistice were international as each country was uniquely shaped by the rapid developments and changing cultural attitudes spurred on by the aftermath of WWI. The occupation of the Rhineland was particularly vital in defining a postwar Europe, but it proved to be a short-term assignment and on the 25^th March, 1919 the last draft of New Zealand soldiers left Cologne.^[4] The troops were pulled back to Britain and the New Zealand Division disbanded. Despite this, the journey was far from over as the lack of ships meant that many people had to wait a prolonged amount of time before going home. The last group of soldiers reached New Zealand in March 1920.^[5] 

William and the other passengers aboard the S.S. Briton were fortunate enough to disembark in Wellington at the end of July 1919, marking the beginning of William’s life as a farmer. The New Zealand that William returned to was a very different country to the one he had left all those years ago. Both veterans and civilians struggled as it became increasingly clear that the fantasy of returning to a prewar world was impossible in the wake of such devastation. The human cost of the war was immense and among the dominions of the British Empire, New Zealand had the highest percentage (5%) of its military-age men killed. The loss of life had only risen with the devastation of the 1918 Influenza Pandemic which had spread across the battlefields before being carried back to New Zealand shores. Between one third and one half of the New Zealand population were infected by the flu in the years following Armistice.^[6] Read more about the impact of the pandemic on WWI veterans and the broader community here.

The loss of so many New Zealand lives from both WWI and the subsequent pandemic meant that Armistice Day has maintained a complicated legacy of both relief and grief. In 2024 we look to this commemoration as a reminder of the ongoing pursuit of peace and as an acknowledgement that the 11^th November 1918 did not mark an end to the stories of WWI but rather the start of a new chapter.

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