In the trenches: writing realistic war scenes in historical fiction

Ultima ratio regum. The last argument of kings. King Louis XIV of France liked the phrase so much he had it on his cannons.

Wars mark big turning points in history, so they naturally serve as the ultimate form of conflict and drama. So much historical fiction focuses on war – either as the direct focus of the work, like much of Bernard Cornwell’s work, or the fallout and consequences of such wars “back home”, as we see with the classic Little Women.

This article focuses more on the former, looking at how you can write realistic war scenes. Readers can be very unforgiving about errors in war scenes, and dropped stitches can undermine even superb writing. So you owe it to yourself, and your readers, to get this right.

Know your kit

What are your protagonists wearing? What are they carrying? What weapons do they fight with? If you opened up their kit bag, what would be inside?

By making sure you understand what arms, armour, and equipment your protagonists have access to, you draw the reader into the world. When they realistically use these objects, you’re saying to them, this story is something which could have happened.

You don’t need to drive yourself crazy googling the exact range of a Mauser C96 Broomhandle. But having an idea of how equipment is used will help your writing no end.

The best advice I can give you is to go to a historical reenactment event. It’s one thing knowing that rich Vikings wore chainmail, it’s quite another to feel its weight for yourself, or watch someone donning it before a battle, distributing its weight with a belt, and then watch the same warrior do a kind of shaggy dog shuffle to remove it afterwards.

If for whatever reason you can’t get out of the house, YouTube is filled to the brim with enthusiasts who will talk at length about different military kit.

The wider conflict

As well as seeing the very ‘small’ of what’s in your protagonist’s backpack, you need to look at the ‘big’, e.g. the wider conflict they are involved in. Cornwell does this very well, especially with Sharpe.

The balance you need to strike is that your protagonist’s actions need to be important, but they can’t win World War II single handedly.

Going back to Cornwell, let’s look at Sharpe’s Waterloo. Sharpe does multiple important things (of course he does, he’s Richard bloody Sharpe and it’s his name on the dust jacket!). For example, he is the one to spot Napoleon’s Army of the North crossing the border from France, and it is Sharpe and his regiment who break the final column of Imperial Guard.

Sharpe is important, and his actions matter. But he does not parachute down into the middle of the French lines to punch Napoleon in the face and ride off on a motorbike with an explosion behind him (but to be fair, that would be awesome). He is part of a wider conflict, and although important, is still a cog in the war machine. Cornwell has Sharpe alerting Wellington that the French have entered Charleroi, but it is Wellington who is still the brilliant commander that history has shown him to be.

Realistic war scenes happen when you can show how actions have consequences and affect the big picture. Not with one-man-army heroics.

The chain of command

Speaking of doing as you’re told, the chain of command is vital to understand across any historical period. Despite what Hollywood tells you, soldiers don’t get to go off and do cool stuff whenever they feel like. They have to answer orders.

Even elite behind-enemy-lines-creating-mayhem people like the SAS still have to do what their bosses tell them. And yes, there is something deeply satisfying about a loose cannon who doesn’t play by the rules. But if your goal as a writer is immersion and realism, you need to understand how armies work.

This will vary from period to period, so there really isn’t any kind of shortcut other than doing the research legwork.

This does not mean that to be realistic, your characters have to be robots. Of course not. Good commanders value initiative, and there is still plenty of scope for autonomy, even in a rigid military setting.

Give your characters roles which allow them to think for themselves. The more senior a person is, the more flexibility they have to act as they wish. Ditto, spies and undercover operations are given carte blanche to get the job done.

Give your character superiors who appreciate their abilities. Looking at Uhtred of Bebbanburg, another of Cornwell’s protagonists, Alfred is smart enough to realise Uhtred knows what he’s doing and doesn’t need micromanagement. If you need to slightly twist a historical figure’s personality to make them more flexible, do it. The real-life Duke of Wellington was an incredible stickler for the “proper” social order, and almost certainly wouldn’t have taken advice from a common-born man like Richard Sharpe.

The fog of war

Even in modern warfare, misinformation and deception are rife. Understanding the limitations of communications and logistics is important in crafting an authentic war story.

People lie and mislead each other – even on the same side! Often, commanders are motivated by personal glory and may choose to withhold vital intel from each other if they think it will give them a better chance to come out looking good. The personal ego of officers is the bane of any commander and can make troops unpredictable. For example, the MacDonalds refused to charge at Culloden because they were on the left flank, and wanted to be on the right. (No, seriously!)

With a historian’s hindsight, we can see how chaotic and confusing certain battles were. To incorporate this into your writing, as well as understanding the big picture of what is going on with the battle or campaign, you also need to get into the head of your protagonist. What do they know? You may very well know that in a couple of days there is a relief force coming from the south, but your character doesn’t. They might only have rumours or snippets of false information.

The scars you don’t see

Finally, it’s worth discussing how to write about the emotional aftermath of war, in a respectful and realistic way. Not every combat veteran turns into Rambo.

That being said, substance abuse issues, post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, and anxiety are all potential effects of being in a warzone. This is not a new thing! Look at Sonatorrek by Egil Skallagrímsson, a Viking poem that explores these themes after Egil’s life of fighting.

If someone’s focus and drive have been based around the army, it can be very hard to transition to civilian life. Wellington, for example, always rose early and never lost the habit of sleeping in a camp bed, even years after leaving the army.

Lastly, and most commonly, almost all soldiers throughout history have developed a certain earthy sense of humour, possibly as a coping mechanism. Use this when writing dialogue for more authentic interactions. A quick google of “military humour” will give you some ideas of the type of jokes soldiers make. Best not to do it at work though…