Most people with a passing knowledge of H.P. Lovecraft know that he was an Anglophile. Mr. Lovecraft’s love of the Mother Country exuded through everything he did: his syntax, punctuation, grammar, his method of dress, his attitudes, and his politics. Lovecraft was an arch-reactionary Tory and Loyalist who believed that the United States made a serious mistake with its republican revolt against Parliament and King George III. As his essays in his self-published journal The Conservative make clear, Lovecraft saw the United States as an extension of England, not as a separate entity.
As such, during World War I, Lovecraft supported the cause of the British Empire against the Central Powers. Then, when the United States entered the fray in 1917, Lovecraft attempted to join up. At twenty-seven, the bookish nighthawk with just a couple of short stories to his credit arrived at the recruiting station for the Rhode Island National Guard and attempted to enlist. According to his registration card, Lovecraft listed his occupation as “writer.” Major Augustus C. Calder initially judged Lovecraft as “fit for service,” but this was later overturned thanks to intervention from Lovecraft’s family. (Major Calder would himself later be deemed unfit for service.) The experience saddened Lovecraft, who, in a letter to friend Rheinhart Kleiner, recounted the experience thusly:
Some time ago, impressed by my entire uselessness in the world, I resolved to attempt enlistment despite my almost invalid condition. I argued that if I chose a regiment soon to depart for France; my shear nervous force, which is not inconsiderable, might sustain me till a bullet or piece of shrapnel could more conclusively & effectively dispose of me. Accordingly I presented myself at the recruiting station of the R. I. National Guard & applied for entry into whichever unit should first proceed to the front. On account of my lack of technical or special training, I was told that I could not enter the Field Artillery, which leaves first; but was given a blank of application for the Coast Artillery, which will go after a short preliminary period of defence service at one of the forts of Narragansett Bay. The questions asked me were childishly inadequate, & so far as physical requirements are concerned, would have admitted a chronic invalid. The only diseases brought into discussion were specific ailments from which I had never suffered, & of some of which I had scarce ever heard. The medical examination related only to major organic troubles, of which I have none, & I soon found myself (as I thought) a duly enrolled private in the 9th Co. R.I.N.G.! As you may have deduced, I embarked upon this desperate venture without informing my mother; & as you may also have deduced, the sensation created at home was far from slight. In fact, my mother was almost prostrated with the news, since she knew that only by rare chance could a weakling like myself survive the rigorous routine of camp life. Her activities soon brought my military career to a close for the present. It required but a few words from our family physician regarding my nervous condition to annul the enlistment, though the army surgeon declared that such an annulment was highly unusual & almost against the regulations of the service. The fact is, I had really gotten the best of that astute medicus; for without making a single positive misstatement I had effectively concealed the many & varied weaknesses which have virtually blasted my career. Fortune had sided with me in causing no attack of blurred eyesight to come upon me during the physical examination. But my final status is that of a man “Rejected for physical disability.” On the appointed day I shall register for conscription, but I presume my services will not be desired. My mother has threatened to go to any lengths, legal or otherwise, if I do not reveal all the ills which unfit me for the army. If I had realised to the full how much she would suffer through my enlistment, I should have been less eager to attempt it; but being of no use to myself it was hard for me to believe I am of use to anyone else. [...] And so I am still in civil life, scribbling as of old, & looking with envious eye upon the Khaki-clad men who are now so frequently seen upon the streets of the business section & in the cars everywhere. [...] Had my enlistment matured successfully, I wonder how I should have kept up! And yet—I will wager that I would have kept up some way or other. Now that death is about to become the fashion, I wish that I might meet it in the most approved way, “Somewhere in France”.
The mix of patriotism, fatalism, and the thirst of self-annihilation are typically Lovecraftian. One wonders what the old man from Providence would had done if he had been allowed to don the uniform. Would he have been a good soldier? Would he have been able to write after surviving the horrors of France? One can only speculate.
So let’s speculate.
Private Lovecraft joins Battery A of the Rhode Island Field Artillery. He underwent basic training in Rhode Island. As a “boot,” Lovecraft was often ridiculed by his fellow soldiers. The lanky and gaunt Anglo-Saxon Protestant was the odd-man-out among the mostly Irish and Italian Catholic recruits. Even his fellow WASP enlistees avoided him, as they were primarily farm boys from Washington County or blue-collar types from the small towns in Kent County. The Swamp Yankees rolled their eyes whenever Private Lovecraft talked about Aryanism or astronomy (his pet pastime), and Lovecraft showed an equal disdain for all conversations about baseball and women. Lovecraft’s attempts to ingratiate himself with the officers, as well as his mother’s frequent visitations (all of which were accompanied by armloads of her son’s favorite sweets), eventually caused him to be shunned entirely.
After further training at Fort Devens, where the company joined the 26th Infantry Division, Lovecraft was granted a few days leave in Boston. From there he journeyed to Arkham. While the usual soldier would have frequented a whorehouse or a tavern, Private Lovecraft spent his leave on an antiquarian’s quest to locate the grave of a suspected witch who escaped the gallows of Salem. It is while on this journey that Lovecraft met a fellow soldier in the medical corps named Dr. Herbert West. The two men spent a night together discussing a bevy of matters, from science to religion. However, what the two men really bonded over was the supernatural. Lovecraft, an arch-materialist, challenged Dr. West’s theories about re-animation, particularly noting that they were not based in any known science. The two argued long into the night. It only ended when Dr. West invited Lovecraft to see him again in Arkham after the war’s conclusion.
By September 1917, Lovecraft found himself encamped at Saint-Nazaire, France. From September until April, he and the rest of the 26th spent a pleasant time guarding the quiet Chemin des Dames sector. Lovecraft, like a certain Bavarian corporal, preferred the company of cats and books to his fellow soldiers. He kept to himself, but, despite his general unpopularity, was considered reliable by the NCOs and officers alike. Things changed drastically when the 26th relieved the 1st Infantry Division at Saint-Mihiel on April 3rd. From there until the end of the war, the 26th was subjected to constant German attacks, and were also responsible for partaking in the largest offensive of the entire Western Front. Private Lovecraft saw lots of combat, but mostly near the rear as a gunner. It was his job to help load and maintain the large artillery pieces that the 26th relied on to barrage the German lines. By all accounts, Private Lovecraft was good at his job.
Between September 12 and 15, the 26th was involved in the Battle of Saint-Mihiel. Here, 14 U.S. divisions and 4 French divisions attacked a salient defended by the German 5th Army. The fighting proved ferocious, with thousands of men falling on each side. One of the casualties was Private Lovecraft, who sustained shrapnel wounds to his arms and legs courtesy of German aircraft. He was rushed to the nearest aid station. Unconsciousness overtook Lovecraft, and he would not wake again until after nightfall.
Upon waking, Lovecraft was startled to see a familiar face staring down at him. Dr. Herbert West invited Lovecraft to witness something astounding.
“Howard, I have conquered death.” Following that pronouncement, Dr. West moved to another cot. Lovecraft saw a white body that did not move. The body was a corpse, until, courtesy of an application a strange liquid by Dr. West, it began to twitch and shake as if alive. Private Lovecraft watched as the corpse sat up and moved off of its cot. Dr. West’s enthusiasm lasted only a few short seconds. It was replaced by horror as the reanimated corpse attacked Dr. West and attempted to strangle him. The horror of the sight proved too much for Private Lovecraft’s feeble and wounded brain. He slipped into a second, darker, and deeper unconsciousness.
The Army politely listened to Private Lovecraft’s account of Dr. West’s AWOL, but did not believe a word of it. In fact, the Army considered Private Lovecraft hopelessly insane. He was released from his contract with a medical discharge in October 1917, less than a month before the declaration of the armistice. Now a civilian, Lovecraft returned to his native Providence. From there he picked up his pen and began crafting weird fiction for the American pulp market. He married in New York, and for a time lived a content and happy life. Then, after a series of unfortunate events, Lovecraft once again found himself single and in need of money. By the late 1920s, his work was regularly rejected from Weird Tales. His ghostwriting, which had helped to pay his bills for so long, dried up. At a loss about what to do, Lovecraft resorted to the only thing that had ever provided him with a semblance of structure and support: the Army.
Lovecraft re-enlisted in the Rhode Island National Guard in June 1927. Private Lovecraft experienced a thrill of joy with each muster and drill. The good feelings came from the hot coffee and hot chow that he was regularly served, along with the meagre but acceptable pay. For the first time since France, Lovecraft felt useful to the society around him.
Things changed drastically during the winter of 1927-28. Lovecraft and the rest of the R.I.N.G. were activated to help the Massachusetts National Guard and Prohibition agents to clean up what was said to be a crime-infested town called Innsmouth. The original rumors spoke of extensive rumrunning, but Lovecraft and others soon learned that their mission was far more sinister. He and his fellow enlisted men were put in charge of guarding “suspicious aliens” in highly secretive internment camps located near the Massachusetts-Rhode Island border. It was while performing these duties that Lovecraft earned the confidence of a local man named Zadok Allen. The ancient drifter spoke to Private Lovecraft about blasphemous rites conducted beyond the Devil’s Reef, and about the darkened bloodline of the Marsh family of Innsmouth. The stories drove the impressionable soldier to madness.
Without saying a word to his fellow soldiers of company sergeant, Private Lovecraft left his post after midnight on December 6th, Saint Nicholas Day, and walked calmly into the Atlantic Ocean, never to be seen again. He left behind no notes and no diary. He was mourned by only a select few.