THAT WAS THE MILLENIUM THAT WAS (12 page)

Best Monumental Waste of Human Effort of the Millennium.

The Maginot Line. The best offense is a good defense, but a bad defense is offensive.

To fully understand the Maginot line and its complete and utter uselessness, we need to step into the Way Back Machine and set the dial for February 21, 1916. On that day, German forces began their attack on Verdun, along the Meuse River; the rationale for doing it (other than the general fact there was a war going on, and they had to attack
something
) came from German general Erich von Falkenhayn, who believed that the Verdun attack would force France to exhaust their resources defending their position. Soon they would be out of brie, and Paris would fall!

This would be a correct assessment, as far as it went. Unfortunately the Germans did not consider the possibility that they might
also
hemorrhage men and supplies, which they did, in vast amounts. All told, about 800,000 men kicked it in Verdun, in more or less equal measure on both sides, and at the end of it, Verdun was back in French hands. So I suppose you could call it a draw. But isn't that just like World War I: Lots of people getting killed, but a lot of nothing actually getting done.

Be that as it may, that battle and others like it scarred the French psyche after World War I. Perhaps ascertaining, and correctly, that the Treaty of Versailles was going to go the way of Marie Antoinette's head, and the Germans would once again come calling, the French tried to figure out the best way to avoid that scenario. The answer came from André Maginot, minister war in the late 20s and early 30s: Let's build a wall, and keep those nasty Germans out!

Well, not exactly a wall, but a
line
-- the Maginot Line, a series of interconnected fortifications that spanned the entire of the French border with Germany, from Sedan to Wissembourg: About 150 miles. There were 50 discrete forts on the line, all within cannon shot of each other, with block houses interspersed between them. Each of these forts was a marvel of defensive design, with the thickest concrete and best defensive weapons the world had to offer.  Each fort held up to 1,000 personnel, and thanks to an immense labyrinth of connecting underground tunnels, men and supplies could be shuttled back and forth without exposing them to enemy fire or prying eyes. 

Within the underground spaces were barracks, storehouses, and recreation areas; it was even air-conditioned. It was said that the Maginot Line was more comfortable to live in than any French city you could name. At the very least, no one was peeing up against a wall when they couldn't find a bathroom. By any critical standard military or architecturally, the Maginot Line was a wonder. It was, in fact, the largest single construction event in European history. Think of it as the French version of the Panama Canal, especially since the
real
version of the French Panama Canal (attempted in the 1880s, laid low by poor financing and malaria) was such a bust.

As far as anyone could see, there were two itsy-bitsy minor problems with the Maginot Line. The first was purely philosophical: By committing so many men and resources to the defensive nature of the Line, the French ran the risk of being lulled into a false (and smug) sense of security. They should also be preparing offensively as well. Charles De Gaulle, of whom you may have heard, suggested to his superiors that France should have an army that was both mechanized and mobile instead of sitting in a bunker waiting for the enemy to tromp into its sights. He was suggesting this course of action through the very beginning of 1940; he was not very popular for doing it.

The second itsy-bit
s
y little problem was that the Maginot Line only covered the border of Germany; it stopped in the east at Switzerland and in the West at Belgium. No one would be especially worried about something happening at the Swiss end: Switzerland was and is famously neutral (its motto: "We'll take money from anyone") and in any event, it's not real easy schlepping tanks over the Alps. 

But what about Belgium? Well, you see. The French had thought about that whole Belgium thing, but they weren't worried. They had already talked to the British, and everyone agreed that if the Germans, for some nutty reason, just
happened
to come through Belgium, the Allies would mount a ground offensive and everything would take place there (it had worked so well in World War I, after all!). And anyway, getting into France through Belgium meant going through the hilly forests of Ardennes, which were figured to be impassable for tanks and heavy weaponry and equipment. So there you have it. Nothing to worry about.

The French were so fixated on the superiority of the Maginot line that it was literally impossible to consider that it could be defeated, and the Germans (who may have been genocidal curs but were not stupid) used this to their advantage in May of 1940. First, the Germans kept their Army Group C facing the Maginot Line as a diversion, to keep the Line's 41 divisions of French troops where they were. Then the Germans launched their blitzkrieg into the Low Countries on May 10, wiping out any resistance, Allied or otherwise, in the space of days, and giving the Germans the corridor they needed to swing around the Maginot Line and enter France through Ardennes. What about the impassable forests? Not so impassible after all;
 
the
tanks and heavy artillery took to the roads while the German troops trekked through the trees. Over the river and through the woods, past Maginot's line we go.

The Germans were on French soil on May 12 and encountered little resistance; the Franco-
Belgium
border was the least defended frontier the French had, and what troops were there had little in the way of artillery defenses or anti-aircraft guns. By the 13th, German troops were across the Meuse; a few days later they were swarming all through France. The French finally pulled some troops out of the Maginot Line, but it was too little, too late. By the time of the German offensive at Somme on June 5, the 49 French divisions not walled in on the line faced 130 German infantry divisions as well as 10 divisions of tanks. 

On June 9, the Germans began driving towards the Swiss frontier, utterly isolating what troops remained on the Maginot Line. The troops in the line could do nothing to stop it. Inasmuch as the French considered the Maginot Line impregnable, all the big guns faced towards Germany. They could not be turned around. The Germans entered Paris on June 14, and after that, it's all just Nazi collaborators, Vichy France, and Charles De Gaulle going,
I told you so.

The few Maginot Line apologists (and there are some) note that the Maginot Line worked as advertised -- indeed, it worked
so
well that the Germans had to find
another
way into France! However, one must consider that the point of the Maginot Line was not to keep the Germans merely from attacking through their mutual border with France, it was to keep them out, period. On this ultimate and ultimately solely relevant criterion, the Maginot line is an immense and colossal failure, a testament to what happens when you combine a lack of imagination with a complacent world view. The Maginot Line is, in fact, hubris defined, poured into concrete and set in the ground. You can't look at it without figuring that France had it coming.

The Maginot line is still there (it's hard to dispose of 150 miles of concrete fortresses). The block houses and fortresses are now used for varying purposes, from homes to wine cellars to discos. One imagines that André Maginot might find it a bit humiliating to see a portion of his grand idea serving as a 180-bpm warehouse for young, coke-snorting Eurotrash. But if someone put in a disco and people actually show up to dance, it's at least finally doing what it's intended to do.

Best List of Bests of the Millennium.

The final topics of the TWTMTW series have been posted, and to all you who were wondering: Yes, I
will
finally get around to telling you the Best Use of Opposable Thumbs of the
Millennium,
so settle down, already. The final installments will include several topics that were suggested by readers, so let me just say to all of you who contributed an idea: Thanks. It made my job easier. 

My only regret was that I was unable to use all the suggestions sent in by readers. But then I thought, damn it, it's my Web space, and I can do whatever the heck I want. So, forthwith, I am proud to present this List of Bests of The Millennium, with topics suggested by
you
, the valued, wonderful, oh-so-smart and undoubtedly-amazingly-attractive-to-the-person-of-your-choice reader. 

Bear in mind that due to the high number of topics I'm going to bang through here, I'm not going to be doing much in the way of rationalizing my choices. But life is always a tradeoff, now, isn't it. Ready? Here we go:

Best Writing Implement:
The computer. Because the idea of going back and retyping (or, hell, re-penning) an entire book should fill any writer with suicidal horror. 

Best Candy Bar:
Snickers. It really does satisfy, although it galls me to put it like that.

Best Hat:
The fedora. Any hat that can make an ugly man like Humphrey Bogart look good has something going for it.

Best Method of Execution:
The Guillotine. You know, it was created to be a humane way of chopping off someone's head. Someone should have thought that point all the way through.

Best Inaccurate Prediction of What the Future Would be Like
: Any Popular Science from the first half of the century. I mean, really: Where the hell
is
my rocket car, anyway?

Best Means of Transportation:
The locomotive. Probably the single most important tool in opening up North America, which is why the natives spent so much time wrecking the rails.

Best Useless Structure:
The Eifel Tower. It was built to represent progress. The French hated it. Insert your own punchline here.

Best Font:
Goudy. Serifs rule, dude.

Best Character Actor:
Mel Blanc, voice of Bugs, Daffy, Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam, Porky Pig, et al.
Those
were characters.

Best Use of the Wheel:
In clocks, to help provide accurate, standard measurements of time. Western Civilization as we know it would not be possible without it; you decide whether this is good or bad.

Best Phallic Symbol:
The Washington Monument. Started in the early 1800s, paused during the Civil War (
constructus interruptus
), completed thereafter. Its status as phallic symbol was confirmed in a recent "Futurama" episode, in which the Clinton Monument was shown, both higher and taller (although not, consistent with rumor, curved).

Best Nursery Rhyme:
"Ring Around the Rosey." Proof that even the black plague can be turned into a child's game.

Best Cleaning Material:
Soap. Just soap. Around for millennia, its use as a cleaning agent only really picked up in the last couple hundred years. In the 19th Century, Justus von Liebig said that the amount of soap consum
ed by a nation was an accurate
measure of its wealth and civilization. So, you know, pick up an extra bar and let's stick it to the Swedes!

Best Use of
Propaganda
:
Shakespeare's "Richard III." As it happens, Richard III wasn't a hunchback or a mass murderer (he wasn't a very nice guy, but who among royalty back then was?). Why such the nasty representation of Richard? Could be because the reigning monarch at the time was the granddaughter of the man who overthrew him. Just a guess.

Best Man-Made Disaster:
Chernobyl. On the other hand, it's not like anyone really wanted to live in the Ukraine to begin with.

Best Dance:
The Waltz. When it came out, it brought Vienna into chaos, as people neglected home and business to dance night and day and night again (because people were dancing so close to each other! The horror!). Made the Macarena look like a blip. Which it was, but even so.

Best Drug:
Nicotine. Percentage-wise, it's easier to quit heroin than nicotine. Although admittedly, heroin doesn't advertise in trendy magazines with young men with washboard stomachs sailboarding with hot chicks in bikinis.

Best Inappropriate Remark:
"Let Them Eat Cake." Purists note that Marie actually said "Brioche," which is a sweet bread, and not exactly cake, but, you know, it's the thought that counts.

Best Superhero:
Oh, come on. It's Superman. Nietzsche rolls in his grave with every new issue. Some people hold out for Batman, but Batman isn't a superhero, he's just a psycho with a costume and a lot of money. Spiderman? Crap. Spidey sense ain't nothin' on X-Ray vision. Also, and I'll be blunt here, Marvel Comics superheroes bite. The whole lot of them. And everyone knows it. (I'm betting this last comment gets more mail than anything else I've written in this series).

Best Board Game:
Chess, which was introduced to Europe at the beginning of this millennium. Why is it the best? Because no one gives a damn that a computer can beat a human at Monopoly.

Best Use of an Unpleasant Climate by a Defending Army:
Russia.
Russian
winters did in Napoleon
and
Hitler. Not bad. Oh, sure, the Russian soldiers
helped
. But look how successful they've been in warm-weather wars, and you'll know: It was the snow.

Best New Religious Movement:
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Polygamy! Jesus in America! Building a homeland by a salty lake! Riding bikes in ties! Secret underwear!
Not a recipe for success by any sane standard, yet the LDS church (which prefers not to be called "Mormon," if you don't mind), has managed to both thrive and survive. Not the religion for me (I enjoy caffeine far too much), but credit where credit is due.

Best Proof The Human Race Is Not Merely a Festering Sore On The Face of This Over-Burdened Globe:
Beethoven's 9th Symphony, which is quite possibly the greatest artistic achievement the human race may accomplish. If all the universe gets out of us is that one piece of music, I figure we've paid our way. 

However, it means we've peaked. Let's try not to make the decline
too
steep, okay? Thanks.