The Chemin des Dames, in the Aisne department, crosses eighteen villages, seven of which were totally or partially destroyed during the deadly battles of World War I. This episode was one of the bloodiest of the first global conflict. It gave rise to La Chanson de Craonne, a desperate song set to a musette waltz melody, and triggered the first mutinies within the French ranks, shaking the military high command.
We refused to go up to the front line on Tuesday evening […]. We almost went on strike, and many other regiments did the same.” This is what a soldier from the 36th Infantry Regiment wrote in a letter to his wife. It was 1917, at the height of the fighting, and the infantryman let his anger explode: “They treat us like animals, making us march like this with barely anything to eat, and then getting battered for nothing. If we had gone on the attack, half of us would have been left behind, and we wouldn’t have advanced at all. Maybe you won’t even receive my letter; they might open it […]. I don’t care, I’ve had enough of their war…
Indeed, the postal control intercepted this letter. It was Guy Pedroncini, the first historian to study the Mutinies of 1917 (PUF, 1967), who unearthed it half a century later. This event, a mere drop in the bloody ocean of the Great War, remained largely ignored for years. After the armistice, the nation sought to heal its trauma by celebrating victory with great pomp. In such a grand symphony, the mutinies sounded like discordant notes. While monuments to the fallen flourished, those who failed in their patriotic duty of sacrifice were cast into oblivion. And their rebellion was forgotten. Yet, it seems to have marked a turning point in the war…
Three Years of Disastrous Attacks and Still No Armistice…
At the beginning of 1917, morale was at its lowest. Holed up in trenches, hundreds of thousands of soldiers were losing hope in an armistice that was constantly promised but never fulfilled. For two and a half years, French casualties had piled up due to disastrous and futile offensives. After the massacres of 1914 (300,000 dead), the failed offensives in Artois and Champagne in 1915 (200,000 dead), and the slaughter at Verdun in 1916 (160,000 dead), the front line had barely moved, and the poilus (French soldiers) were beyond exhausted.
Yet, their superiors once again dangled before them the prospect of returning home—this time, by spring. Robert Nivelle, who had just replaced Joseph Joffre as Commander-in-Chief of the French Army, claimed to hold the key to final victory. He had planned a large-scale operation to break through German defenses in the heart of Picardy. A matter of 24 or 48 hours, he assured.
His colleagues tried in vain to temper his optimism. The German lines he planned to attack were positioned along a ridge about 30 kilometers long. The problem? To reach enemy trenches, the poilus would have to climb 100 meters up steep, shell-cratered slopes, burdened with 30 kilos of equipment on their backs—all while completely exposed.
Impossible? Not at all, countered Nivelle—German machine-gun nests would have been destroyed beforehand. Confident in his impending triumph, the Commander-in-Chief gathered over a million men between the Aisne and the Vesle, where his offensive was to take place.
The Final Battle Begins: The Chemin des Dames Offensive
What was supposed to be the last battle of the war began on April 16, 1917. At dawn, under terrible weather conditions, entire battalions rushed to storm the ridges. Unfortunately, not only had the previous days’ bombings failed to destroy enemy lines, but they had alerted the Germans, who reinforced their positions. Within hours, the French infantry’s advance was completely stalled. Exposed and moving slowly across treacherous terrain, the men became easy targets and fell by the thousands.
The offensive had failed within 24 hours, yet Nivelle, blinded by his dreams of glory, refused to acknowledge it. Despite repeated waves of French infantry assaults, the German lines held firm. On April 29, Nivelle was finally dismissed for failing to deliver the promised two-day victory. His replacement, Philippe Pétain, was appointed on May 15. However, the battle itself dragged on until October 24, shifting between German counterattacks and smaller tactical operations—six months of slaughter.
What was meant to be a new Austerlitz instead became the Chemin des Dames, named after the small ridge that French high command was obsessed with capturing. Nearly 300,000 soldiers would die on both sides. “Three hundred thousand dead—how many tears does that make?” wrote Roland Dorgelès, a former soldier, in his book Le Réveil des morts (The Awakening of the Dead).
It was in the midst of this inhumane and senseless battle that, by the end of April, an initially imperceptible wave of revolt began to rise.
In the Forests Behind the Lines: Defiance Grows
To their commanders, the soldiers’ discontent seemed insignificant. But among themselves, they murmured against the incompetence and stubbornness of the high command. Their disillusionment was as great as their hope had been in Nivelle’s promises. These men were still willing to defend their positions—but they refused to throw themselves into another doomed attack.
At first, isolated refusals to fight (which had occurred throughout the war) became more frequent in early May. By then, it was no longer just refusal—it was mutiny. The pattern was often the same:
At nightfall, when orders came to prepare for another march to the front, some men simply disappeared into the woods behind the lines. Meetings were held, petitions were written, and frustration spread. The ordinary infantrymen (la biffe) expressed their anger in song—most famously, La Chanson de Craonne, an updated version of an older protest song.
Graffiti covered the soldiers’ transport trains that spring:
Despite the atmosphere of defiance, however, violence against officers remained rare—even though the soldiers were armed and engaged in a brutal war.
May 1917: Mutiny Spreads but Remains Unorganized
By May, disobedience had spread across the French army. Some soldiers from the 128th Infantry Regiment refused orders to march. An entire battalion of the 19th Regiment rebelled. Near Soissons, dozens of soldiers from the 36th and 129th Regiments even planned to march on Paris.
However, these isolated acts of defiance never coalesced into an organized rebellion—they lacked leaders and strategy. The fragmented structure of the army prevented large-scale coordination. Instead, officers dealt with each outbreak individually, suppressing resistance one unit at a time.
At first, high command left the handling of disobedience to lower-ranking officers. But as protests spread and political slogans appeared, they realized the seriousness of the crisis.
On May 22, stationed in Villers-sur-Fère after fighting at Chemin des Dames, rumors spread through the 18th Infantry Regiment that they were being sent to Baurrieux, a frontline outpost. More than a hundred soldiers protested. Fights broke out between mutineers and those who refused to disobey orders.
The rebels pushed aside a few officers, then marched through the village shouting “Down with the war!” and singing The Internationale.
The Suppression of the Mutiny: Arrests and Executions
The next day, in despair, the mutineers surrendered without resistance to the military police sent to restore order. 130 men were arrested:
Three men were ultimately executed, while a fourth was pardoned. The fifth, Corporal Moulia, a decorated veteran of Verdun, escaped the night before his execution.
Pétain’s Response: Restoring Order with a Dual Strategy
By May 29, General Pétain, the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief, grasped the seriousness of the mutinies and alerted the Minister of War:
“In recent days, acts of collective indiscipline and protests have multiplied in an alarming manner. They are clearly organized and suggest the potential for more serious uprisings.”
The military blamed external subversion—defeatism, pacifism, anarchism, and especially the influence of the Russian Revolution, which was beginning to make waves in France. A pamphlet circulating among soldiers from ten different regiments seemed to confirm this suspicion:
Comrades! […] We urge you to join us in stopping this massacre, this war whose primary goal is to enrich capitalists and destroy the working class.
By framing the mutinies as external contamination, military leaders conveniently shifted responsibility to civilian authorities, accusing them of failing to maintain order in society. However, this theory fell apart under closer scrutiny. In reality, pacifist activism was minimal, consisting mostly of a few militants distributing flyers in train stations or helping deserters escape.
True, some labor strikes occurred, but they were focused on wages and working conditions, not ending the war. For instance, in mid-May, Parisian garment workers (“midinettes”) went on strike—not for peace, but to demand a five-day workweek.
Meanwhile, strict censorship of letters and newspapers ensured that the public remained unaware of the mutinies. Instead, the press was obsessed with Mata Hari, the famous spy.
Espionage and Crackdown: The Army’s Counterattack
By early June, the military launched a counteroffensive against the mutineers. They:
- Relocated rebellious units to quieter sectors.
- Infiltrated regiments with undercover informants dressed as soldiers.
One of these undercover operations took place on June 2 in Cœuvres, Picardy. The 370th Infantry Regiment, resting for a few days, was ordered to prepare for a return to the front.
Tensions exploded when a convoy of mutineers from the 36th Regiment passed by, being forcibly transported back to the rear. These mutineers had been stopped by cavalry units just before marching on Paris. From their trucks, they waved red flags, sang “The Internationale,” and shouted:
We shouldn’t march on Berlin! We should march on Paris! If you’re not cowards, don’t go to the front!
Some of these men mingled with the 370th soldiers and encouraged them to drink heavily. However, these were not genuine mutineers—they were military informants. Once the regiment was surrounded and disarmed, the undercover agents stepped forward and identified the most rebellious soldiers.
The Mutiny Reaches Its Peak (May 20–June 10, 1917)
Despite these “preventative measures,” the mutiny spread further, reaching reserve companies stationed at the rear, who refused to participate in training exercises. Thousands of flyers encouraged soldiers to rise up against their officers.
On June 2, in the 41st Division (Jura region), General Bulot—accused of having ordered machine-gun fire against mutineers—was physically attacked. His rank insignia was torn off as soldiers shouted:
“Murderer!”
“Blood-drinker!”
“Death to him!“
In this exceptional event, 2,000 soldiers participated—a rare large-scale act of defiance, as most rebel groups remained under 200 men.
This period, from May 20 to June 10, marked the peak of the mutinies.
But Pétain found a way to restore order.
Pétain’s Dual Strategy: Concessions and Repression
Unlike Nivelle, Pétain understood his soldiers. To prevent further rebellion, he took a two-pronged approach:
1. Improving Soldiers’ Lives
Pétain personally visited the front lines, speaking directly to the poilus. He implemented several popular reforms:
Most importantly, he changed military strategy—no more reckless, high-casualty offensives like Nivelle’s. Future attacks would have realistic goals, prioritizing minimizing troop losses.
2. Harsh Military Justice
At the same time, Pétain reactivated the special military tribunals, which had been abolished in April 1916.
In the following months, thousands of soldiers faced trial for:
Most of the accused were ordinary soldiers, many of them battle-hardened veterans with clean disciplinary records. They came from all regions of France, were of all ages, and were overwhelmingly from lower-class backgrounds—peasants, artisans, and laborers.
Out of 3,500 soldiers tried:
Among them, only four were white-collar workers, and one was a socialist schoolteacher and union activist, who was ultimately pardoned—the government feared his execution would be seen as political persecution.
Les mutineries de 1917 constituent un moment clé de la Première Guerre mondiale, à la croisée de la contestation militaire, politique et sociale. Plusieurs éléments ressortent clairement de votre texte :
- L’ampleur et la diffusion du mouvement : Avec 30 000 à 40 000 mutins répartis sur 68 divisions, ces événements ont touché une large portion de l’armée française, bien qu’ils soient restés temporaires et localisés.
- Les causes multiples : Fatigue, pertes massives, échec de l’offensive Nivelle, mais aussi une conscience républicaine et sociale qui pousse les soldats à revendiquer un meilleur traitement et une réévaluation des stratégies militaires.
- Les interprétations historiques divergentes :
- Guy Pedroncini voit dans ces mutineries un simple épisode de lassitude, limité et sans conséquence majeure.
- André Bach y perçoit un mouvement ancré dans les valeurs républicaines, avec une volonté de dialogue sur la guerre.
- André Loez les analyse comme une “grève de la guerre”, un acte de désobéissance collective qui a directement influencé la stratégie de Pétain.
- Les réponses du commandement : Pétain adopte une double approche, combinant répression sévère (tribunaux militaires, exécutions) et concessions (rétablissement des permissions, amélioration des conditions de vie des soldats).
La question centrale reste donc : ces mutineries furent-elles simplement une réaction aux souffrances de la guerre, ou bien un véritable mouvement porteur d’idées et de revendications ? L’accès complet aux archives pourrait permettre d’apporter des réponses plus précises.